Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

I'd gotten used to her cold remarks and stinging words. How could I hold a grudge now? What good would it do? My gaze dropped, the cigarette in my hand untouched, each breath feeling like a knife to the chest. If I hadn't left in a huff, she wouldn't have vanished. The thought of Brielle being dead sent a jolt of panic through me, visible even in my usually composed eyes. The cigarette slipped from my fingers, hitting the deck.

"Keep searching," I ordered, my voice firm. "Even if we have to turn this whole damn sea upside down, find her."

Even if it's just her body, we need to bring her back.

On the other side of the deck, Isaac stood with Noir. Noir wasn't cut out for sea life, curled up in a lethargic ball. Isaac gently rubbed its head, but his mind was elsewhere. The sparkle in his eyes was gone.

Every so often, he'd scan the horizon, hoping one of the fishing boats would bring good news. He didn't want Brielle to be dead. Joseph had once told us that those thrown into the sea to feed the sharks never left a whole body behind. Even if you avoided the sharks, the water would bloat and disfigure you in no time.

Brielle was so beautiful. The thought of her being unrecognizable tore at him.© 2024 Nôv/el/Dram/a.Org.

The search dragged on for two days.

Meanwhile, Arthur's inauguration speech was happening. His first address was in his home district, drawing a crowd of locals and media. Though few international reporters were present, the speech was broadcast worldwide.

Arthur, ever the showman, adjusted his suit before stepping up to the podium, his speech in hand. The crowd, phones out and recording, waited eagerly.

But three minutes in, the microphone cut out. Arthur, mid-sentence, suddenly had a bullet tearing through his forehead, blood spurting.

Screams filled the air.

"Call an ambulance!"

Chaos erupted as Arthur stood there, life fading, then collapsed backward. Police rushed towards the sniper's possible perch, while others hurried Arthur into an ambulance. But everyone knew it was too late. A bullet to the head meant no coming back.

Kenzo, mission-complete, packed

his rifle into a black case and made his escape via helicopter from the

rooftop. But killing a prince is the

something you walk away from easily. Several helicopters took up the chase.

The streets below were a mess.

To be assassinated during an inauguration speech, live on camera, Arthur's death was the most disgraceful in royal history.

Dustin, initially uninterested in the

speech, was curious about whate Arthur might say. So, even out at sea, he had the TV on. He didn't catch Arthur's words, more focused on the endless horizon.

When the broadcast descended into chaos, he turned just in time to see Arthur get shot.

Surprise flickered in Dustin's eyes. He hadn't ordered the hit, so who did? But the surprise was brief. Arthur had made plenty of enemies. Why get bogged down in details?

Turning off the TV, Dustin gazed at the sea, a heavy feeling settling in. Maybe Brielle was already gone.

Against the vast ocean, human efforts seemed so small. Dustin's heart ached, but like King, he wouldn't go back until they found her body.

King stood on another boat's deck, feeling cold to the bone. Isaac approached, trying to warm King's hand, but it felt like touching ice. "Dad?" Isaac called out, but got nothing in return.

King, lost in thought, questioned Max internally. If Max was supposed to be the rational one, why hadn't he stopped King from leaving? King knew blaming Max was pointless. It was his fault.

Yet, King and Max were opposites.

о мах

Max could watch Brielle suffer, seeing it as toughening her up. Despite the dangers Brielle faced in Beaconsfield, and the ease with which Max could have helped, he never did.

Sometimes, King wondered how Max could be so detached, so rational.