Ethan reached for the box and collected it, the courier took a bow and left with a stiff step. Ethan closed the door and stepped back into the office and set the box on the desk, fingers lingering. The pendant dimmed, he looked at Juliana, unreadable for a long moment, then he said, "Lock the ledger, take this key, open the storage room, and do not touch the box." As her fingers closed in on the key, the pendant at her throat felt heavy, a slow burn. She nodded, "I will." His gaze held the weight of both a test and a warning, "if anything moves," he said, "Report it." She walked toward the storage door, the key heavy in her palm, her steps steady. Behind her, the box sat quiet on the desk, a line of shadow across its lid. The courier's knock echoed in the room like a question. The pendant pulsed once again, bright enough to warm her skin. The door closed behind her with a soft click.
Juliana had been at the penthouse for a week, the hours heavy but clean. Ethan was spot on, he worked in calculated silences, giving orders clipped, never asking twice. She learned to read his pace, when to speak, when to let the room breathe. He watched her often, not always with his eyes, but she felt it on her skin like static.
One night, when the firm's floor was dark and the city lights cut the windows, she stayed behind to finish some files.
Ethan had left the office an hour before, or so she thought. The shelves were high with relics, sealed cases marked with sigils, and in the center of the desk sat a glass trinket. A simple sphere, faint lines marked across it, sitting on a bronze stand. She reached to shift the files, her hand brushed the sphere. Her lungs seized as a flash tore through her vision. Chains rattled, fire hissed, she saw a boy, thin and shaking, bound inside a circle of salt, voices roared around him, deep, non-stop, chanting words she could not grasp. His skin cracked under heat, hands clawed against shackles, his screams raw. A tall figure pressed a sigil into his chest, the smell of burnt flesh filling the air.
Juliana staggered back from the desk, panting, her hand to her mouth. The office was still, the trinket dull again, but the echo of his scream rang in her skull. She turned and found him standing in the doorway. Ethan, tall, shadows under his eyes, jaw tight. "What did you touch?" His voice cut sharp, "the sphere," she said, breath shaky, "I… I saw something, you, a boy, the chains." His eyes hardened, the air in the room pressed close, "that memory is not yours," "I didn't mean—" "You saw nothing," he said, stepping in, his ring flaring faint red, "say it." She swallowed, her pulse hard against her throat, "I saw nothing." He stopped in front of her, his face inches away, his eyes searched hers, looking for a crack. Then he exhaled slowly, and his shoulders eased.
"You should not have seen it," he said, quieter now. "It was real," she said, steady, "they hurt you," his jaw worked once, then stilled. His hand brushed the trinket, sliding it back into a drawer. He turned his back, staring out over the city, "you think you know what that was? You don't," Juliana held her ground, "then tell me." A long silence, the hum of the city outside filled the space, he turned again, slower this time, the cold edge in his eyes cracked. "They tried to awaken me," he said, "my family, they wanted the devil they thought I should be, they burned it into me until it answered," his hand touched the ring, fingers stiff. "This binds what came out," she stepped closer, not too close, her voice softer, "you survived it." He let out a laugh without humor, "survived? You think that means I'm whole?" He turned his palm, showing the scars burned into the skin. "I am their work, their weapon, you shouldn't be here." Juliana reached into her coat, drew out the pendant her mother gave her, the silver chain reflecting off what Little light in the room, she held it in her hand. The stone glowed faintly, pulsing once, then dimming, "It reacts to soul-bond," she said. "To love, to truth, it glowed when I stood near you."
His breath caught, but he didn't step back, his eyes softened for the first time, and in them she saw pain and want tangled together. "I don't deserve that," he said, "maybe not," she whispered, "but you're not what they made you." The silence stretched, the city outside was distant now, like they stood in their own world. His hand lifted, fingers brushing the chain before pulling away, his voice came low, almost human, "You think you see me, Juliana, but what you see is only the surface, there are things under it that will tear you apart." "Then let me decide if I stay," she said, and for a moment, he looked as if he might say more, but he turned away, setting the mask back on. "Go home and get some rest, tomorrow's another day," she nodded once, though her chest was tight, she gathered her things. At the door, she turned to look back, he still stood by the window, the city light cutting his silhouette, hand tight on the ring.
The next day, Juliana walked the city with a faint tremor in her hands, her thoughts circled his words, the flash, the scars, she carried both fear and a strange warmth. Andy's voice was loud in her ear when she called, teasing her about working late, asking if the Devil himself had kept her chained to a desk. Juliana didn't laugh, she almost told her, but stopped. That night, walking home, she felt the dizziness hit again, it had started small the past few days, a tilt in her balance, a sting at her temples. Tonight it was sharper, her breath caught, her head heavy as she leaned against a wall, blinking hard. Her nose bled faintly as she wiped it quickly, like she was trying to hide it from someone.
A hand touched her arm, "you're pale," Jason's voice said, calm. He stood there with his clean coat, his eyes soft, "come on, sit," she shook her head, pulling away, "I'm fine," "fine?" he said, tilting his head. "C'mon look at you, blood on your hand, eyes glazed. That's not fine." He pulled a small vial from his pocket, and uncorked it, "drink this, it'll steady you." Her vision swam, the world doubled, and against her better sense, she took the vial and sipped. It was sweet at first, then bitter, burning down her throat. The street tilted sideways, and her knees gave in, Jason caught her under the arm, lowering her down with gentle care. "Easy now," he said, "you'll be safe." The last thing she saw before blackness was his watchful eyes, steady and cold.
Andy found her an hour later, crumpled near the wall, her skin cold. She screamed for help, her phone shaking in her hand as she called an ambulance. At Central Hospital, the lights blazed, doctors rushing her in, IVs were fixed. Andy stood frozen in the waiting area, hands red with Juliana's blood, breath ragged. Word traveled fast, Ethan was at the firm when the call came in. Marlo stepped in, with a slate in his hand, his voice tight, "she's at Central, in critical condition." Ethan rose quickly without a word, the air around him sharpening. He was at the hospital within the hour, black coat wet with rain. Andy saw him first, eyes wide, "she collapsed, they don't know what it is, and she won't wake up."
He walked past her into the ward where Juliana lay on the bed, skin pale and her lips faintly blue. Monitors beeped, and nurses moved fast as he stood at her side, hand near hers but not touching. "What happened," he asked, voice low. The doctor cleared his throat, "her body is failing, she has a blood imbalance and we don't know the cause. If it continues, she won't make the week." Ethan's eyes flicked to the pendant on her chest as it glowed faintly, then dimmed, his jaw locked. Andy gripped his sleeve, desperate, "save her, you have to," he didn't move, didn't blink, his chest burned with rage, fear, and guilt all at once. He had shown her his scars, let her near, and now she lay dying. His cursed ring pulsed hot, whispering rites in his head, old voices from the fire. Just then the monitors spiked, alarms blaring loudly, and Juliana's body shook once, then sagged.
Nurses rushed in, desperately shouting for stabilizers, Ethan's hand closed around hers, his face bent low. "Don't leave," he said, voice breaking for the first time, the lights in the room started flashing wildly, and the machines screamed, and her breath came in one sharp gasp before cutting off. And the screen… flatlined.