MasukLucian’s POV Maryelle's room hums with quiet intimacy. The room Israfil set aside for her smells faintly of lavender and candle wax. Lamplight pools across the floor while shadows gather in the corners, turning the space soft and private. Safe. A dangerous thing for a man like me to crave. "Can I take you to my palace?" The question leaves before I can stop it. Hope disguises itself poorly. A flicker of hesitation crosses her face. Small. Brief. Still enough to make my stomach tighten. "I don't know if that's a good idea." Her fingers toy with the edge of a blanket. "What if they don't like me?" She takes another breath. "And what about Lomi?" I smile. Not because her concerns are unreasonable. Because they're so painfully Maryelle. "They'll love you because I love you. And Lomi is handled. She won’t be an issue." Her eyes narrow. "You're just saying that so I say yes." "I'm actually saying it because it's true." I step closer. "I promise y
"That part is all you... with the help of Bailey." Every eye in the room lands on her. "Phan you broke my heart long before I ever laid eyes on Lucian." The words hit harder than they should. Because some small selfish part of me treasures them. Even now. Even here. He ignores everything she says, and tells her, "I won't be able to guarantee your safety in Rome if you stay with him." The threat is disguised as concern. Barely. Maryelle's expression hardens instantly. "The line's been drawn in the sand." Her voice carries through the dining hall. Calm. Certain. Terrifying. "Do what you need to do, Phantom." She sighs. "We'll respond accordingly." Then she hangs up. Just like that. Silence follows. Heavy. Absolute. I watch her. She meets my gaze. No hesitation. No regret. Just conviction. "I'm guessing everyone heard that?" Her voice sounds tired. "It was loud and clear." Israfil's answer comes immediately. His tone has changed. Dangerously so. Kat slams h
Lucian’s POV "This place makes me antsy." Joaquin shifts in his chair, candlelight flickering across his restless features. The admission earns a few nods around the table. "I'm ready to head home, too," His brother Rick says with a sigh. He slumps back in his seat as though the last few days have drained every ounce of energy from him. I understand the feeling. Since Maryelle returned from Phantom's palace earlier than expected, I'd joined her, Israfil, and the rest of his royal fold for dinner. The dining room to the rental property is beautiful. Massive chandeliers. Polished silver. Crystal glasses. Enough luxury to impress most kingdoms. Yet I can't fully appreciate it, because everything feels suffocating. Because Maryelle barely touches her food. And because she hasn't really spoken since she came back. "Mar?" Israfil sets down his fork. "Are you okay?" Her eyes remain fixed on her plate. "I'm fine." She's not. I know exactly how she looks when she's hurting.
Bailey’s POV continued The bedroom door suddenly opens. I nearly scream. My entire body jerks. The book slips from my hands and crashes onto the floor. Phantom freezes halfway through the doorway. For a horrifying second, I think this is it. This is the moment. He's figured it out. Then his expression softens. "Goddess, Bailey." The concern in his voice catches me off guard. "You startled me." Relief crashes through me so hard my knees almost go weak. I force out a nervous laugh. "Sorry, Phan." My pulse refuses to slow. "I guess I'm just..." Exhausted. Terrified. Consumed by guilt. But I can't say any of those things. Instead I say: "Tired." He nods. "Me too." The words carry a sadness that makes my chest ache. For a moment, he simply stands there. Looking older. Grief has aged him. The sharp edges of his arrogance seem dulled. Like losing his mother carved something out of him. Something important. Then he walks farther into the room and sits on the edge
I make it halfway through the entrance hall before Vahlia reappears. Like a ghost waiting in the shadows. She blocks the exit. Dark hair. Cold eyes. Barely restrained hatred. "Didn't take you for a crown chaser. You make me sick." Venom drips from every word. My body immediately tenses. "Pathetic waste of space. I trusted you, and you abandoned me. You abandoned my brother. " I stare at her. Tired beyond anger. "The only reason you're still alive is because killing you would destroy what's left of Phantom." Her smile is cruel. "But if I ever see you on werecoyote land again..." The threat hangs unfinished. For a moment, neither of us moves. I think about her grief. About her mother. About the pain radiating off her like heat from a fire. Then I sigh. "I'll never show cruelty to someone drowning in grief. My condolences, Vahlia. " Something flickers across her face. Surprise. Maybe guilt. Maybe nothing at all. "Get some rest, Vahlia."
Maryelle's POV The guards lower their weapons the moment I step forward."Maryelle Cirales," I announce, forcing confidence into my voice. "I'm here to request an audience with Princess Vahlia and King Phantom."Steel scrapes against stone as they nod and move aside.The massive gates swing open.A knot forms in my stomach as I step through.Maybe showing up unannounced was a mistake.Maybe I should've called first.Maybe I should've stayed away entirely.But it's too late now.The palace swallows me whole as I make my way through familiar corridors.Everything feels different.Darker.Quieter.As if grief itself has settled into the walls.I follow the route to Vahlia's wing.Halfway there—Agony explodes through me.My knees buckle.A strangled cry tears from my throat as I crash onto the marble floor.Pain rips through every inch of my body.Fire.Ice.Pressure.Like invisible hands are reaching inside me and tearing me apart.My vision blurs.For a moment, I can't breathe.Can't
In the club, the music pounds against the speakers like an angry woodpecker trying to demolish a tree. Al yells her order over the noise, and the bartender hands her two shots in return. She shoves one in my direction, and before I can decline, a guy jumps in front of me and shoves the glass filled
The sun sets. Captivated, I watch its buttery haze disappear behind the clouds in pretty shades of blue, purple, and splotches of gold. It reminds me of the sunsets back home at Falls Quaker and briefly takes my mind off being stuck in Rome, Georgia. I glance at Al’s bed and wonder what the next fe
“This is not Australia.”“You're a genius, Maryelle—too clever for the world,” my mother deadpans.“Mom, what the heck! You said we were going on a summer vacation. You were taking me to Australia and Rome. Again, I have to point out that this place looks like neither.” I hadn’t been suspicious whe
Despite the mountain lion scare, Phantom and I spend the next couple of weeks moving through summer as if it were stitched just for us. Each moment with him eclipses the last, and the way he treats me makes him feel less like a prince of bloodlines and more like the kind of prince carved out of dre







