THE STERLING SECRETS

Chapter 11: The Midnight Fever

Chapter 11: Blood on My Hands

"Julian!" I screamed, standing up from the chair so fast it toppled over behind me. The sound echoed through the silent library. "That was my only phone! How dare you—"

"I told you he was a liability," Julian roared.

His chest was heaving. His face was red with rage. He crossed the space between us in two steps and grabbed my upper arms, pulling me flush against him.

His grip was bruising. Desperate.

His eyes were wide, erratic, and fiercely possessive. Wild.

"He is calling a tapped line!" he yelled in my face. Spit hit my cheek. "If Eleanor or my security team intercepts his signal, they will kill him, Clara! Do you understand me? They will kill him! And then they will come for you!"

"He's just trying to help me!" I cried, tears of frustration spilling over. Hot and angry. "Because you're keeping me caged here! Because you won't let me leave! Because you destroyed the only way I had to call for help!"

"I am keeping you alive!" he yelled back. His grip tightened on my arms. "Don't you get it? This isn't a game! Eleanor killed my brother! She will kill you too!"

We were both breathing hard. Both shaking.

And then he suddenly froze.

A deep, violent tremor ran through his entire body. Like an electric shock.

His eyes clouded over. The anger drained out of them and was replaced by something else. Pain.

The strength in his arms vanished instantly.

He stumbled backward, a breathless, agonizing groan escaping his lips.

He clutched his side. Right below his ribs.

"Julian?" My anger evaporated. Instantly. Replaced by instant, cold panic.

He collapsed against the edge of the mahogany desk. His knuckles went white gripping the edge. His face turned entirely pale. Like paper.

Beads of cold sweat broke out across his forehead. Running down his temple.

"Julian, what—" I rushed to his side. Caught him before he hit the floor.

He was so heavy. So much heavier than I expected.

As I put my hands on his waist to steady him, my palms brushed against something warm and wet.

I pulled my hands back.

I stared at them.

They were covered in fresh, dark blood.

Thick. Sticky. Coppery smell.

The wound from the intruder two nights ago. The one he had claimed was just a scratch. The one he refused to let the doctor see.

It had torn completely open.

He had been bleeding through his clothes all morning. Hiding it. Hiding the pain. Just to keep a possessive eye on me. Just to make sure I didn't run.

"Oh my God," I whispered. "Oh my God, Julian."

"Clara..." Julian choked out. His eyes were half-closed. His skin was clammy.

A feverish heat began to radiate off his skin. Burning.

He reached up with a weak, trembling hand. His fingers tangled into my hair, gentle despite everything. Pulling me close even as his consciousness began to fade.

His gray eyes found mine. So dark now. So tired.

"Don't..." he whispered. His breath was ragged. "Don't leave. Don't let him take you..."

"I'm not leaving," I sobbed, cradling his head in my lap. Blood was soaking through my sweater. "I'm right here. Please, Julian, stay with me. Stay awake."

"Promise me," he murmured. "Promise..."

With a final, heavy sigh, his eyes rolled back.

And he went completely limp in my arms.

"JULIAN!" I screamed.

The sound was raw. Desperate.

I looked around the library frantically. Blood everywhere. On my hands. On his shirt. On the floor.

I grabbed my sweater and pressed it hard against his side.

"Someone help!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. "Security! Anyone! He's bleeding!"

Footsteps. Running.

The library doors burst open.

Two guards ran in. Then another.

"What happened?" one of them barked.

"He's shot!" I cried, tears streaming down my face. "The old wound! It's open! Please, you have to help him!"

One guard immediately pulled out a radio. "Code Red. Mr. Sterling down. Medical team now."

The other guard knelt beside me. "Ma'am, we need to move him. Can you—"

"No!" I snapped, clutching Julian tighter. "I'm not letting go. Not until he's okay."

As they lifted him onto a stretcher, Julian's hand was still fisted in my hair. Even unconscious, he wouldn't let go.

And as they wheeled him out of the library, I realized something with sickening clarity.

I didn't want to leave him either.

Not anymore.