Chapter 14 · The Name on the Torch

The film started with Julian Cross holding a torch in front of my childhood home.

For one ugly second, nobody breathed.

The projector rattled on the metal crate between us. Light shook across the vault wall. Outside, something huge slammed into the sealed door hard enough to make dust rain from the ceiling.

Julian took one step toward the projector.

I caught his wrist.

“Don’t.”

His skin was ice cold. The black curse under it crawled over the back of his hand in thin branching lines, like ink dropped into water.

“Nia,” he said.

“No.” My fingers tightened. “You don’t get to say my name like that and then grab at the evidence.”

“I’m not grabbing at anything.”

“You literally moved toward it.”

“I was there.” His jaw locked. “I know what’s on that film.”

Evan limped between us before Julian could say more. He looked worse under the projector light. Blood had soaked through the side of his shirt. His face was gray beneath the dirt.

“You need to stop it,” he said.

I stared at him.

That hurt more than it should have.

My brother. Alive.