Kaz
Six Months Later
It’s been six months since I lost my soul.
Six months since I watched my moon’s body crumple to the ground, blood pooling beneath her like spilled wine.
I replay that moment constantly—day and night.
The way she fell almost gracefully.
The order to shoot her.
The way she didn’t make a sound when the bullet tore through her.
How I wasn’t fast enough when I heard the venom-laced command barked out in Russian.
They gave her five months.
Lily and Max kept her alive that long—five months on machines that breathed for her, pumped her heart, kept her tethered to life with wires, tubes, and stubborn loyalty.
They told us if she didn’t wake up by then, they’d let her go.
We missed it.
I missed it.
Because I was too busy chasing a fucking imaginary throne—trying to reclaim what was “rightfully” mine.
My father’s legacy.
The Bravata crown.
An empire built on blood, pain, and control.
What a fucking joke.
I traded the chance to see her one last time for power I don’t even want without her.
And now? We don’t know if she ever woke up before the deadline. We have no idea if she’s alive.
The only reason we even knew about the five-month mark was because Lily and Max told us when we handed Barbra over—gift-wrapped for their revenge.
So here I sit.
In this gilded prison of the Bravata throne.
Shackled.
Broken.
Empty.
“Kaz?” Dario’s voice cuts through the silence—softer than usual.
Even he hasn’t been the same. His golden-retriever energy replaced by shadows and silence.
I glance up. “What is it?”
