ONE YEAR LATER
CHAPTER 18
MAX
Monday morning, I woke up violently hungover—the kind of hungover that made me question every decision leading up to this point. My head throbbed, and the room seemed to spin even with my eyes closed. Just like yesterday. My days were bleeding together in a monotonous blur. I was trapped in the hell I’d built with my own two hands: a prison of my own making.
People always said time healed all wounds, but I found myself questioning the validity of that statement. I waited, counting the days as they turned into weeks, and the weeks as they turned into months. The pain persisted, a relentless ache that refused to leave me alone.
Everything was a chore. Feeding myself felt like a punishment, and going to sleep at night felt like accepting defeat. How much longer did I have to wait for the pain to subside?
I was stuck in a constant state of absence. I was here, and I could see everyone, but I was deprived of the courage to keep going. A knife in the heart would hurt less than forcing myself to drown in the constant pain that came with the memory of her.
Rosalie.
I could never stop thinking of her.
I needed to stop telling myself she was still here. I needed to stop remembering her. But every time I closed my eyes, I saw her. I saw how perfect she was. She kept showing up, reminding me not to let go. It felt like I was grabbing onto a thin thread that threatened to rip apart if I tugged on it too hard.
The memory of her was both a comfort and a torment, a double-edged sword I couldn’t seem to put down. She haunted every thought I had, her laughter echoing relentlessly in my mind.
With trembling hands, I reached for the small container tucked away in the drawer.
Opium.
I hesitated for a moment. I’d promised myself I’d never take it again, yet here I was, about to break that promise. The ache in my chest, the desperate need for her touch—it was unbearable. This was all I had left of her.
Then I took a pill.
I closed my eyes, feeling the effects running through my veins. My senses were all over the place, which was exactly the point.
When I opened my eyes, she was there, standing before me. Her image was fickle, just enough to remind me how much I ached for her. Her hands reached out to me, but it was her voice that threw me for a loop.
She called me by my name.
I reached for her, desperate to hold onto the fading vision, to feel her warmth against my skin once more. But as quickly as she’d appeared, she vanished, leaving me alone with the emptiness I felt. Ineededher, yet holding onto her was tearing me apart piece by piece.
The hallucinations grew more intense with each passing moment. I saw her everywhere I looked. She was there, yet shewasn’t. It was a cruel trick of my mind; a relentless reminder of what I’d lost.
I knew I was losing myself, sinking deep into the darkest parts of my mind. The opium was a temporary escape, but it was never enough. I was trapped in this cycle, unable to break free from the chains of my grief. The hallucinations were nothing but a cruel reminder.
I knew I had to find a way to let her go, to move on, but my soul ached in her absence. The thread—the one I clung to desperately—grew thinner and more frayed with each passing day, but I couldn’t bring myself to release it.
It wasn’t the memories of her that would destroy me but my inability to let them go. Rosalie was gone, and her ghost would forever haunt me.
My mind was sick. I had to live with it for the rest of my life.
CHAPTER 19
MAX
Mikhail leaned his weight casually against the brick wall, his foot propped at an angle.
I’d been working for him ever since Marco got me out of jail. I’d spent the past year proving myself, showing him he could rely on me.
It was honest work this time. Mikhail was work-driven, and that was exactly what I needed. He had a way of making the most mundane actions seem deliberate and full of purpose.
He was targeting the Clarkes because he thought they wanted Sloane. He’d offered Liam deals I knew he would break, which was exactly what I wanted.
