Rose pov
The moment Julian locked the door, the air in the room shifted. The once cool atmosphere felt suffocating, thick with something unspoken. Rose stood frozen near the window, her pulse hammering as she took in his disheveled appearance—the way his chest rose and fell heavily, the slight unsteadiness in his steps. His gaze, dark and unfocused, locked onto hers with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine.
Something was wrong.
"Julian?" she called hesitantly, taking a small step back as he moved forward. His pupils were blown wide, his jaw tight like he was fighting something unseen. A deep exhale escaped him, and then he did something she didn't expect—he reached for her, his fingers trembling as they brushed against her wrist.
"Help me…" his voice was rough, strained, almost desperate.
Rose's stomach twisted. Help him? With what? Her mind raced, trying to piece together what was happening. She had seen Julian a few times before, had even exchanged brief words with him, but this… this was something else. His control was slipping, she could see it in his expression, in the way his hands clenched and unclenched as if trying to ground himself.
Her gaze flickered to the door. Locked. Panic started to creep in, but she forced herself to stay calm. Running wasn't an option, not when he was clearly struggling.
"Julian, talk to me," she urged, forcing strength into her voice. "What's wrong? What happened?"
He exhaled sharply, his fingers tightening on her wrist before he abruptly let go, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. "I don't know… I drank something… and now… I can't—" He cut himself off, his breathing growing ragged. He squeezed his eyes shut like he was trying to shake something off, but when he opened them again, the hunger in his gaze hadn't faded.
It clicked. Rose inhaled sharply as realization dawned. Someone had done this to him. Something was in that drink.
Her mind flashed to the novels she'd read, where things like this happened—where people were drugged to lower their inhibitions, to push them into something they wouldn't normally do. But this wasn't fiction. This was real, and Julian was struggling, trying to fight whatever was coursing through his system.
"Julian, listen to me," she said firmly, stepping closer despite every nerve in her body telling her to retreat. "You have to fight it. Whatever this is, you're stronger than it."
He let out a shaky breath, his hand pressing against the wall like he needed the support. "It's not that simple, Rose," he murmured, his voice edged with something raw. "You don't understand… it burns."
Her heart clenched. The way he looked at her, like she was the only thing keeping him tethered, sent a confusing mix of emotions spiraling through her. He was dangerous like this—unpredictable. And yet, beneath the intensity, she saw something else: fear. Fear of what he might do. Fear of losing control.
She took another step, closing the distance between them. "Then tell me how to help you," she whispered.
His breathing hitched. His fingers twitched at his sides, and then, before she could react, he reached out, pulling her against him. A gasp left her lips as her hands instinctively landed on his chest. She could feel the rapid beat of his heart beneath her palm, the heat radiating from his body.
"Rose…" he breathed her name like a plea, his forehead resting against hers. His grip was firm but not painful, his body trembling as if he were at war with himself.
Her mind screamed at her to push him away, to put distance between them before he completely lost control. But another part of her, the part that saw the torment in his eyes, knew that walking away wasn't an option.
Not when he needed her.