“My son,” she whispered, the words spilling from her lips like a sacred prayer.“I love you more than words could ever capture.”Her voice, heavy with love and longing, seemed to fill the small cell.“I pray the stars will guide us together again one day.”
A single tear slipped from her eye, tracing a glistening path down her cheek before falling onto his still hand.She leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to his brow, her lips lingering there as if to imprint her soul onto his skin.Roman stirred not, his eyes closed, but his breath remained shallow, fragile, but steady.
Her gaze turned to me, and I felt my composure fracture under the weight of her anguish.The sight of her there, fragile yet fierce, seared into my memory.
“We must go,” I murmured, stepping forward, my voice low with urgency.“Amara will care for him.She vowed to treat them as her own—she would not fail them.”
Reluctantly, I helped Elizabeth to her feet, the torchlight casting flickering shadows over her tear-streaked face.She nodded, her sorrow etched into every line of her expression, but her steps were firm as we left the chamber behind.
As we entered the night, I wrapped my arm around her shoulders, drawing her close.Her body pressed into mine, seeking warmth in a world suddenly colder.
“There are dangerous eyes everywhere,” I murmured, my lips near her temple.“For now, only their ignorance keeps our sons safe.But fate is not yet finished with them.One day, Roman’s wife will reunite them.”
“His wife?”Elizabeth’s voice was barely a whisper, taut with confusion.
“She hasn’t yet met him,” I murmured, my gaze fixed on the moonlit streets ahead, though all I could see was the anguish etched into her face.
Her breath caught—fractured, ragged—a sound that pierced straight through my chest.“I don’t want to leave,” she confessed, her voice trembling and thick with unshed tears.“I want to watch over them, even if only from afar.Can we stay in Rome for a little bit?”
The raw ache in her plea struck something deep within me.I understood all too well—the agony of parting from one’s blood, of walking away when every instinct screamed to protect.I turned to her, cradling her face in my hands, my thumbs brushing away the tears threatening to fall.
“Yes,” I said, my voice low and certain.“We will stay.Until the next full moon, we will remain here.Together.”
She exhaled a breath she hadn’t known she was holding, her body leaning into mine, seeking solace in the only place left to her—my embrace.Her sorrow clung to her like mist, but beneath it, I felt her resilience awakening, steady and fierce—the same resilience that had drawn me to her all those years ago.
In the shadow of the Colosseum, with the city of emperors slumbering around us and the past bleeding into the present, we would stand vigil over the two sons fate had stolen from us once—and now returned.
Until the moon called us home, we would not leave them again.
* * *
The full moon had waned; with it, the mystical tether that bound us to ancient Rome released its hold.The familiar mustiness of our English parlor wrapped around us like a well-worn cloak, the scent of aged wood and hearth smoke a stark contrast to the blood and sand we had left behind.
Elizabeth’s breath came in excited bursts as she spun through the room, her skirts sweeping around her ankles.The weight that had clung to her shoulders in Rome now lifted, vanishing like mist beneath the dawn.Her bright, unburdened laughter rang out, and it was the sweetest sound I had heard in years.
“I’m going to make you the best dinner,” she declared, her eyes dancing with light, a spark of the girl I once met flickering anew in her gaze.
“Go then,” I murmured, a rare smile tugging at the corner of my mouth.She was a balm; her grace was an elixir that soothed the quiet storm forever brewing within me.
She disappeared into the kitchen, her laughter trailing like the last notes of a song.I stood in the quiet that followed, savoring the illusion of peace—until I saw it.
A parchment lay on the table, a blemish on the polished wood.My fingers, calloused from battle, curled around it with growing dread.The seal was already broken.The moment I unfolded it, I knew.
You think you can protect her forever, Amir?But the shadows are my domain, and I am always watching.One day, your plans with Lazarus will crumble beneath my power, and Solaris will fall to me.But more importantly… You will lose her.Mark my words—when that day comes, nothing will save her from the fate I have planned.
The blood drained from my face.
My pulse thundered in my ears.
The scrawl was unmistakable—elegant yet cruel, every line dripping with mockery and menace.
Salvatore.
Only he could lace ink with such venom.
Only he could turn parchment into a weapon.
A declaration of war.
