Mag-log inLUNA POVHis heavy words hung in the quiet living room.I failed you. I am so sorry.Killian stayed on his knees, his eyes closed, pressing his forehead against my scarred knuckles. His massive shoulders were tense, bracing for whatever I was going to do next. He was waiting for me to yell at him again. Or maybe, he was hoping I would just let my fingers curl around his hand and forgive him.I looked down at his dark hair. My chest heaved with a ragged, painful breath.I snatched my hand away.The movement was sharp and violent. I pulled my arms back, wrapping them tightly around my own knees, pressing my spine into the corner of the sofa to get as much space between us as I could.Killian’s head jerked up. The sudden emptiness where my hand had been seemed to hit him like a physical blow."Yes," I whispered, my voice trembling violently. I looked at him through my tears. "You failed me."He didn't move. He didn't try to reach for me again. He just knelt there on the hardwood floor, l
LUNA POVMy fork hit the porcelain plate with a loud clatter.The sharp sound echoed across the long mahogany table, but it didn't even slow him down. The heavy thud of his boots just kept moving against the hardwood floor.He was leaving. After hiding from me for three entire months, he had sat at my table, eaten his food in absolute silence, and was now just walking away again.I sat there for a few seconds, staring at his empty chair. My chest rose and fell. The suffocating weight of the last four months—the weeks of cold isolation before the fire, the agonizing night he left for Italy, the sheer terror in that drawing-room—boiled up into my throat all at once.Something inside me finally snapped.I pushed my chair back. The wood scraped harshly against the floor."Killian."My voice came out sharp, cutting through the quiet dining room.His boots stopped. He froze in the archway, but he didn't turn around. His broad back just faced me, completely unmoving.I took a shaky step towa
LUNA POVThe house was quiet as I walked down the curved staircase.For the first two months after the hospital, I had eaten every meal in my bedroom. But lately, the walls had started to feel too close. I had been pushing myself to go down to the formal dining room for dinner, trying to build a normal routine. I usually ate alone, accompanied only by the soft ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway.I turned the corner and stepped through the archway.My foot froze an inch above the hardwood floor.Sitting at the far end of the long mahogany table, staring down at a glass of water, was Killian.My heart instantly slammed against my ribs. A sudden spike of panic shot through my veins, urging me to turn around and run back upstairs. It had been exactly three months since I last saw his face.I gripped the doorframe.He didn't look up. He had to know I was standing there—his instincts were too sharp to miss someone walking into the room—but he kept his gaze glued to the table.H
The heavy, sickening crack of a neck snapping echoed over the roar of the underground crowd.Killian didn't step back. He stood over the massive Russian fighter, his chest heaving, sweat and blood dripping from his dark hair. The man at his feet twitched once, and then his body went completely slack against the chain-link floor.It was a death match. The only kind of fight Killian had sought out for the past three months. No referees, no bells, no submissions. Only one man walked out of the cage alive.The crowd screamed, a chaotic mix of money exchanging hands and raw, bloodthirsty adrenaline, but Killian didn't hear any of it. He looked down at his taped knuckles. They were split open, the white fabric soaked in dark crimson. The sharp, biting physical pain burned through his nerves. It was the only thing that managed to temporarily quiet the deafening noise in his head.Killian ducked through the metal doors of the cage and walked down the damp concrete corridor toward the locker r
3 MONTHS LATERLUNA POVThe morning sunlight spilled across the hardwood floor, warm and blindingly bright.I stood by the massive floor-to-ceiling window in my bedroom, resting my forehead against the smooth glass. Outside, the sprawling garden was covered in vibrant yellow and white roses. The stone pathways wrapped around a small fountain, the light catching the water as it flowed.It was a peaceful place. It was nothing like the dark, isolated Bratva fortress we used to live in. When I was discharged from the hospital three months ago, they didn’t take me back to that imposing estate with its high concrete walls. They brought me here. A house with open skies, massive windows, and quiet, sunlit corridors.I lifted my right hand, letting the sunlight hit my skin.The heavy plaster casts had cut off my wrists a few weeks ago. I slowly traced the tip of my finger over the thick, raised scar running across my forearm.My breath hitched. A sudden, sharp phantom pain shot through my nerv
The room was dimly lit. Luna was lying in the center of the hospital bed, hooked up to IV lines and a heart monitor. Her face was pale, heavily bruised, and covered in small bandages. Both of her hands and wrists were heavily wrapped in thick white casts.Killian’s chest tightened. He took a slow, gentle step forward.Luna’s heavy eyelids fluttered open. Her dull green eyes shifted, locking onto his tall, dark frame standing at the foot of her bed.Killian opened his mouth to speak. To tell her she was safe. To beg for her forgiveness.But the moment her eyes met his, her pupils dilated in pure, absolute terror.The heart monitor beside her bed spiked violently, the steady beeping turning into a rapid, frantic screech. Luna pushed herself backward against the pillows, ignoring the broken ribs and the fractured wrists.A raw, blood-curdling scream tore out of her throat.Killian froze. The air completely left his lungs."No!" Luna shrieked, thrashing wildly against the sheets, her terr
The water shut off.Silence rushed back into the bathroom, broken only by the harsh, wet gasps tearing from my throat.I sat on the tiled floor of the shower, my back pressed against the cold wall, my legs drawn up to my chest. My wet hair hung in heavy ropes around my face, dripping pink water onto
"You," Killian repeated, and his voice dropped into something cold and final. "She cannot do it. Look at her."He bent down without warning and scooped me up off the floor.He didn't do it gently. There was no care in the movement. He grabbed me under the knees and shoulders and hauled me into the a
"Look at me."I squinted through tears streaming from my eyes. He was a dark shape in the center of the brightness, backlit until he looked like a hole in reality."The rules are simple," Killian said. "You stay awake. You stay upright on that stool."He checked his watch."It's eleven in the mornin
It was heavier than I expected, solid cast iron designed for commercial use. The handle was hot even through the decorative towel wrapped around it.My hands were shaking. My whole body was shaking. I was weak from hunger, from pain, from exhaustion so deep it had seeped into my bones.I lifted the







