Chapter 5

I don’t go back to my room.

Not yet.

Julian watches me, his gaze sharp, unreadable, but he doesn’t stop me when I step past him and walk down the hallway. I don’t know where I’m going, only that standing still feels like suffocating.

I need space.

I need air.

But most of all, I need to think.

The letter burns against my skin where I hid it in the pocket of my robe. The words echo in my skull.

Run before it’s too late.

I squeeze my eyes shut. Who wrote it? Who knew I would be here, in this house, alone and lost inside my own mind? Why did they think I needed to run?

And from what?

Or… who?

A chill creeps down my spine.

I push the thought away, gripping the polished wooden railing as I descend the grand staircase. The dim light from the chandeliers overhead flickers softly, casting long shadows against the walls. The house feels different at night—too big, too quiet.

Almost as if it’s waiting.

I make my way through the corridors, past rooms I don’t recognize, past doors that stay closed, hiding secrets I can’t remember.

Until I find it.

A large set of glass-paneled doors leading outside.

I hesitate, my fingers hovering over the brass handle. A strange sense of déjà vu washes over me, an odd tugging in my chest.

I’ve been here before.

I don’t remember it, but my body does.

I push the doors open.

A rush of cool night air greets me, brushing against my skin, carrying the scent of rain and damp earth. The garden stretches before me, wild and untamed, glowing beneath the silver light of the full moon.

It’s beautiful.

But it doesn’t feel safe.

I step onto the stone pathway, my feet moving before I can second-guess myself. The sound of rustling leaves and distant crickets fills the silence. The night hums with an energy I can’t quite name.

I keep walking, my heartbeat steady but heavy.

And then—

A flicker.

It happens so suddenly, so violently, that I don’t even realize I’m not in the garden anymore.

I’m somewhere else.

A flash—

A dark alley.

My breath catches.

Another—

Hands. My hands. Covered in blood.

I gasp, stumbling backward, the image so vivid it feels real. I can smell it. Metallic, sharp.

I squeeze my eyes shut, my pulse thundering in my ears.

What was that?

I force myself to breathe, to steady the shaking in my hands.

It’s just my imagination.

It has to be.

But then it happens again.

A scream.

High-pitched. Terrified.

My entire body locks up.

The sound is deafening, but the night is silent.

I clutch my head, willing it to stop, but it doesn’t.

Another flash.

A woman—her face blurred, her mouth open in a soundless wail.

The blood on my hands.

A whisper in my ear—

Run.

I collapse to my knees, my breath ragged.

No.

No, no, no.

This isn’t real.

This isn’t—

A hand touches my shoulder.

I flinch so hard I nearly scream.

But when I whip around—

Julian.

He crouches beside me, his face carefully blank, but his eyes—his eyes are stormy, wild, and filled with something close to fear.

“Ana,” he says, his voice soft but firm. “What happened?”

I shake my head, unable to find the words.

Because I don’t know.

I don’t know what I just saw.

I just know it wasn’t mine.

It didn’t feel like a memory.

It felt like a nightmare.

Or worse—

It felt like the truth.

Julian’s fingers tighten slightly on my shoulder, grounding me. “Ana,” he murmurs, slower this time. “Tell me.”

I look at him, my heart still racing. “I—I saw…” I swallow hard. “Blood. And—I don’t know. I don’t know what it was, but it felt—”

His grip tenses.

I stop.

Something flickers in his gaze, just for a second.

And that’s when I know.

He knows what I saw.

My stomach drops.

I straighten slowly, stepping back. His hands fall away, but his eyes never leave mine.

“You knew,” I whisper. “Didn’t you?”

Julian exhales, his expression unreadable. “Ana—”

I take another step back, my chest tightening. “You knew. You knew I would remember something.”

“Ana, please—”

I shake my head, panic clawing at my ribs. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Silence.

His jaw clenches. “You need to trust me.”

I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “Trust you?” My voice breaks. “How am I supposed to trust you when I don’t even know who I am?”

Julian takes a slow step forward. “I’m trying to protect you.”

I meet his gaze, my hands still trembling. “From what?”

A pause.

Then, softer, sadder:

“From yourself.”

The words hit me like a blow.

I don’t move. I don’t breathe.

Because there’s something about the way he says it—

Like it’s not just a warning.

Like it’s a fact.

I take another shaky step back. The world tilts beneath me, my legs weak.

I want to argue. To fight his words. To demand answers.

But then—

A gust of wind sweeps through the garden, brushing against my cheek.

And suddenly—

A voice.

Soft. Whispered. Close to my ear.

Run before it’s too late.

My stomach turns to ice.

I whip around—but there’s nothing there.

Just the night. The trees. The moon.

And Julian—watching me like he already knows what I just heard.