“I found one of the crossbow bolts. In the wreckage. Broken. Obsidian tip. I kept it.” I opened my eyes. Met his. “I've been tracking the design. The craftsmanship. The materials. For years. And every lead takes me deeper into the city's underbelly. Every piece of information I find is wrapped in violence and crime.”
“So you hunt criminals hoping to find the one who knows.”
“Yes.” I held his gaze. “And I won't stop. I can't stop. Not until I find out who took her from me. Who took her from us. I need to know, Viktor. I need to understand why she had to die.”
“And when you find out? When you have name? What then?”
“Then I make them pay.”
“By killing them.”
“Yes.”
He was quiet for a long moment. Just stood there with his forehead pressed to mine, hands cradling my face, breathing me in.
Then his hands tightened. Not painful. Anchoring.
“Sebastian.” His voice was rough. Raw in a way I'd never heard. “Look at me.”
I did. Saw something broken and human in those winter eyes.
“You do not have to do this alone. You do not have to carry this by yourself.” His thumb brushed my cheekbone. “You do not have to pretend you are fine when you are breaking.”
My throat tightened. “I'm not?—”
“You are.” His voice cracked. “I see it. The way you smile when you are dying inside. The way you joke when you want to scream. The way you hold yourself together with nothing but will and fury because you think showing weakness means you have failed.”
“I can't afford to break. If I break, I fall apart. And if I fall apart?—”
“Then you fall apart.” His forehead pressed harder against mine. “And I will be there to catch you. To hold the pieces until you can put them back together. That is what people do when they care. They do not demand you stay strong. They give you permission to be human.”
Something in my chest cracked. “Viktor?—”
“You lost your mother. You watched her die. You have spent years hunting her killers while playing perfect prince for a kingdom that demands you smile through your grief.” His voice broke. “When do you get to mourn, Sebastian? When do you get to rage? When do you get to feel anything other than this cold determination to find answers that might not even exist?”
“I can't.” The words came out strangled. “If I let myself feel it, I'll drown. I'll never surface.”
“Then drown.” His hands moved to my shoulders. Gripping hard. “Drown and I will pull you back up. But you cannot keep going like this. Cannot keep pretending you are whole when you are shattered. Cannot keep smiling when you want to burn the world down.”
“I don't know how to stop.” The admission tore out of me. “I don't know how to be anything other than this. The golden prince. The vigilante. The boy who's strong enough to handle anything. If I'm not that, then what am I?”
“You are human.” His voice gentled. “You are man who lost someone he loved. Who has been trying to be brave for so long he forgot that bravery is not the same as never breaking. That strength is not the same as never feeling.”
My vision blurred. “I'm so tired, Viktor. I'm so tired of being strong. Of pretending. Of hunting ghosts while everyone expects me to smile and wave and act like I'm fine.”
“I know.” His arms came around me. Pulled me against his chest. “Iknow you are tired. I know you are breaking. And it is okay. You are allowed to break. You are allowed to not be fine.”
“I have to keep going. I have to find out?—”
“You will. But not like this. Not by destroying yourself piece by piece until there is nothing left.” He held me tighter. “You can hunt your answers and still be human. Can seek justice and still allow yourself to feel. Can be strong and still admit when you need help.”
Something in me shattered. The control I'd been holding for years. The mask I wore even when no one was watching.
I broke.
My hands fisted in his shirt. My breath came in gasps that burned my throat. And for the first time since that night, since I'd found my mother's broken body in the wreckage, I let myself feel it.
All of it.
