Page 12 of Reckless Royalty

“Sorry about Sofia,” Marina says, her voice soft as she closes the door behind us. “She’s… She’s going through a lot right now. Santiago was her father. It’s been hard for her.”

I nod, unable to respond. My cheek still throbs where she hit me, but the pain is already fading into the background, overshadowed by the numbness settling in my chest.

Marina gestures to the walk-in closet. “My father had clothes and other things brought in for you. But if you need anything else, anything at all, just let me know, okay?”

I look over at the closet and feel a strange, hollow sensation in my chest. Like this is someone else’s life. Someone else’s room. None of it feels real.

“Are you okay?” Marina asks, her tone softer now, more careful.

I nod again, though I’m not sure whatokayeven means anymore. How do you even begin to explain what you feel when nothing makes sense?

Marina watches me for a second longer, her eyes soft with concern, but she doesn’t push. “Alright. I’ll leave you to settle in. If you need anything, I’m two doors down from you, okay?”

She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes, and with that, she slips out of the room, closing the door softly behind her.

I’m left alone; the silence pressing down on me, thick and heavy. I don’t move for a long time, just standing there in the middle of the room staring at nothing. Everything feels surreal— like I’m stuck in some kind of nightmare I can’t wake up from.

I don’t even realize I’m moving until I find myself in the bathroom, turning on the shower. The sound of the water is a low, constant hum, and I watch the steam rise, fogging up the mirror. I undress slowly, my hands shaking as I step under the spray.

The hot water hits my skin, and I should feel relief, but I don’t. It just washes over me, like everything else.

Numb. I’m so numb.

I press my hands against the tiles, my forehead resting against the cool surface as the water runs down my back.

My mind keeps replaying everything. The restaurant, my sister’s laugh, the gunshots, the blood. My mother’s face, the wayshe collapsed beside me. The way I couldn’t do anything to stop it.

And now… Sofia. Her slap and her accusations.

I was shot at twice and I survived both times, but I don’t feel lucky. I don’t feel relieved. I feel… lost. Like I’m not even in my own body anymore.

Is this my life now? Running? Hiding? Being protected because someone, somewhere, thinks I’m important? That I know something that could change everything?

I stay in the shower until the water runs cold, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing changes. Nothing ever changes.

When I finally step out, I wrap a towel around myself, staring at my reflection in the fogged-up mirror. The girl staring back at me looks different. Her brown eyes are too wide, too hollow. Her skin is pale, her blonde hair clinging to her neck in damp strands. She’s a stranger to me now.

I wipe the mirror, revealing more of my face, but it doesn’t help. No matter how hard I try, I can’t recognize the person looking back at me.

This isn’t who I was supposed to be. I was lively, full of energy. I laughed and spoke without thinking. I was never afraid.

But now … now I don’t even know who I am.

MIHAI

Imarch after Sofia, my blood still running hot from the scene in the driveway. The slap, the screaming—I didn’t expect any of it, though I probably should have. Sofia’s never been the type to handle her emotions quietly, especially not when it’s about her family. Santiago was everything to her, and now he’s gone.

But damn it, I didn’t expect her to take it out on Madison like that.

When I reach her door, I don’t bother knocking. I push it open and step inside, finding her just as I knew I would—collapsed on the edge of her bed, her shoulders shaking as she sobs into her hands. The sight of her hits me harder than I want to admit.

Sofia’s is fire and fury, so seeing her like this—broken and raw—twists something in me.

We were together once, and I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t still a spark there. From the moment we first got together, I knew she was the kind of woman who could own me if I let her. But it’s more complicated than just desire.

Our legacies pulled us in different directions, and I made the choice to step back. It doesn’t mean the feelings aren’t still there.

“Sofia,” I say quietly, closing the door behind me.

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