Page 108 of Espíritu

Julian’s voice rose, cracking with rage. “She’s not one of us— she’s just a coward! A selfish, lying piece of shit—just like Catriz!” He kicked a half-melted candle at a nearby grave. It exploded into shards of wax.

Yadriel flinched.

Not dramatically. Just a breath—a step back, a flash of pain across his face. But it stopped Julian cold.

The apology rushed out of him. “I’m sorry!”

But that wasn’t fear in Yadriel’s eyes.

It was hurt.

Julian’s mouth opened, then closed again. The heat in his chest turned to ice.

“I didn’t—” he started, but the words caught in his throat. There was nothing he could say that wouldn’t make it worse.

Maritza didn’t look at him. She just brushed past Julian to Yadriel’s side, her silence louder than anything she could’ve said.

Yadriel didn’t move, but his shoulders went tight—like Julian’s words had struck him physically. His fingers curled into the sleeves of his hoodie.

Julian’s gut twisted. He hadn’t meant—

But he had.

“That temper’s gonna get someone hurt,” Maritza said flatly, not even turning around.

Julian stood there, feeling all the fire inside him sputter into ash. The shame came rushing in, sharp and hot and blinding.

“I need to cool off,” he said, mostly to himself. He was already turning, shoes crunching against the gravel as he backed away.

Yadriel looked up suddenly, the worry breaking through the hurt in his expression. “But—wait—the Midnight Vigil’s tonight,” he said weakly.

Julian froze mid-step. For a second, he’d forgotten.

He turned slightly, offering a promise he meant with everything he had. “I’ll be back in time. I swear.”

Neither of them said anything.

And Julian kept walking.

SEVENTEENJULIAN

Julian shoved the apartment door open harder than intended, the slam echoing through the empty space. He stepped inside, breathing unevenly, pulse still thrumming with leftover rage and shame from his confrontation with Angel. He just needed a minute—just a minute to calm down, recenter, and prepare himself for the Midnight Vigil. But as soon as he looked up, that hope vanished.

Omar, Rocky, Flaca, and Luca sat in tense silence in the living room, their gazes snapping toward Julian as he entered. The quiet intensity of their stares hit Julian like ice water.

“Yo, Jules,” Omar began, voice flat and controlled, “Wanna explain why you weren’t where you said you were?”

Julian froze and blinked, trying to collect himself. “What? I was at Yadriel’s—”

“No, you weren’t,” Rocky cut in, voice sharp, sleek ponytail whipping as she turned to face him. “We checked your location. We went there looking for you, and you were gone.”

Julian’s heart lurched. “You … followed me? Into the cemetery?”

“We wanted to make sure you were okay,” Flaca said quietly, disappointment clouding her features. “But turns out, you were just lying again.”

“I wasn’t lying,” Julian started weakly. “I was just—”

“You promised.” Luca finally spoke up—not with anger but a deep sadness that cut even deeper. “I know you have to keep some things secret, and I get that. Really, Jules, I do. But you keep ditching us, and it feels like you’re leaving us behind.” Luca hesitated, his hand unconsciously moving to his chest.