His legs shook as he forced himself straight, using the wall for support. Blood dripped from his chin, and each breath scorched his throat. Still, his legs moved on their own, guiding him out of the room and then onto the terrace once again.
The cold night air hit him like a wall. He welcomed it. At least this cold wasn't trying to kill him.
But the moment he reached the edge, another wave of pain tore through him. He dropped to his knees, slamming hard onto the stone floor.
He could barely hold himself up—but he forced himself to.
Not out of pride. Not out of stubbornness.
But because the answer—the cause of all this—was standing right in front of him.
His half-lidded eyes flicked upward, meeting the shadowed figure before him.
"Wh–who... are... you..." Julian managed to utter, each word tearing through his throat like shards of glass.
