The New York skyline was completely silent, but it wasn't the warm, amber sanctuary of the penthouse roof anymore.
It was cold.
A blinding, sterile white fog had rolled over the glass terrace, swallowing the city below until we were entirely marooned in an empty, freezing void.
I was standing near the edge, wrapped in a blanket, waiting for William.
When the glass doors slid open behind me, relief flooded my chest, and I turned around with a smile on my lips. "William, you're—"
The words died violently in my throat.
It wasn't William.
Julian stepped out of the fog, wearing an immaculate, tailored black suit that looked almost abyssal against the white mist.
He didn't say a word.
He just walked toward me with a slow, agonizingly calm stride, his polished oxfords clicking rhythmically against the concrete. The terrifying, unhinged smirk he had worn in that dimly lit hospital hallway was plastered across his face, his eyes completely wide and hollow.
