Her family thought they had control. They didn’t.
I walked through the night like the city itself cleared the path. The drive was a blur of headlights and red signals I didn’t bother with. All I could see was her message. All I could feel was the acid of it burning through my chest.
I could break her phone. I could take every number, word, every message she ever sent. I could silence her guards, turn every lens black, flood the feeds with nothing but her face.
But her mind—her mind was still locked to me.
That silence was the one cage I couldn’t hack.
And if I could? I’d kill whatever was consuming her from the inside. Strangle it with my bare hands until she breathed easy again.
The lobby guards didn’t look at me when I crossed the floor. They kept their heads down. Smart. The elevator doors slid open at my touch, the pin sequence quick under my fingers.
The ride up was too long. My pulse hammered steady, sharp, but my breathing stayed even. That was the difference between me and Bastion—I didn’t rage, I calculated.
Every floor I climbed, I imagined her sitting in silence. Dying by degrees she wouldn’t admit.
And I told myself:Every second you’re alone is another second you’re breaking. And you don’t get to break without us.
The doors opened.
The penthouse air was still. Polished surfaces, dynasty wealth dripping from every detail.
Then I saw her.
She was on the couch.
Her hair was loose, a mess around her face. Makeup streaked, black smudges staining her skin. Her shoulders shook. Her fists curled against her lap.
She was crying.
Not the quiet tears she let slip when she thought no one was looking. The polished sorrow of a dynasty daughter. This was ugly. Raw. Her whole body shaking with it, her face red and blotched, sobs ripping out of her chest.
It stopped me cold.
Because no one was ever supposed to see her like this. Not the dynasty. Not anyone but us.
Her head lifted. Eyes wide. Shock slammed across her face.
“How did you get in here?” Her voice cracked. “You can’t?—”
I didn’t let her finish.
I crossed the room in three strides. She shrank back a fraction, not from fear but disbelief.
I knelt in front of her. My hands came up, cradling her face, my thumbs sweeping hot tears from her cheeks.
“You’re coming home.”
She shook her head.
“Luca—”
I leaned closer, cutting her words, kissing the corner of her mouth. Then her cheek. Then the trembling line of her jaw.
“These tears, baby…” My voice came low. “…they’re ours to kiss away. And I can’t do that if you’re hiding them from me.”
Her breath hitched, shaky. I followed the trails down her face with my lips, kissing the stains. Every drop mine to claim.
