It was a sad reality. No one had to teach Izara the right thing—she had to teach herself.
Izara had spent years trying to fight against the darkness that surrounded her. But every step forward felt like walking against a tide that threatened to drown her.
Edward shifted on the thin mattress, sensing her presence. His sharp, hollow eyes turned to her, filled with cautious curiosity.
"Who are you?" he asked.
Izara felt a lump form in her throat.
"Brother," she whispered, taking a hesitant step forward.
Edward’s brow furrowed. "Who are you?" he repeated, his voice void of recognition.
Izara wasn’t surprised. After everything he had endured, his mind had fractured. His mories were in pieces, scattered like shards of a broken mirror.
She swallowed hard. "Brother," she said again, her voice trembling as she took another careful step toward him.
Edward tensed instantly. His body, once so familiar and warm, was now rigid with fear.
Then, suddenly, his expression shifted. Sothing in his gaze softened.
"Izara?" he murmured. His voice cracked as he stared at her, his eyes flickering with sothing fragile—hope, maybe? "Is that you?"
Izara nodded quickly, afraid that if she spoke, her voice would betray the emotions bubbling up inside her.
Edward let out a shaky breath, his lips trembling as he took her in. "Look at you," he murmured. "You’re all grown up now."
Izara wanted to run to him, to wrap her arms around him like she had when they were children. But she forced herself to stay still. If she got too close, there was no telling how he would react.
Then, Edward’s eyes darted around the dimly lit room. "Where’s Desmond?" he asked, his voice laced with anticipation. "He didn’t co with you today?"
"I’m here."
Izara turned sharply at the voice.
Desmond stood in the doorway, his face partially obscured by the dim light.
Her pulse quickened. "What are you doing here?" she demanded.
Desmond sighed and held up a black mask in his hand. "Don’t worry," he assured her. "I wore a mask the entire way here."
Izara’s shoulders remained tense. She feared the club’s patrons—especially the older noblen—might have caught sight of him. Even though their family specialized in trafficking n, there were still powerful figures who would take an interest in soone like Desmond.
Edward’s gaze locked onto Desmond, his lips parting slightly in surprise.
Their family had always been unconventional. The king and queen of Regalith had used surrogacy to conceive their children. However, Edward, the firstborn, had been born frail, constantly falling ill. His more delicate, feminine features had been considered an abomination in a kingdom that worshipped strength.
From the mont he was born, their parents had deed him unworthy of the throne.
But the king was not a man who wasted resources.
Instead of simply discarding Edward, he had found a way to make a profit.
That was how their father’s sex trafficking empire had begun.
Edward had been his first victim.
Izara’s stomach churned at the mory.
She and Desmond had fought to save him. With Mario’s help, they had tracked down the buyer and repaid every last di to get him back. But the damage had already been done. The trauma Edward had suffered at the hands of their own family had left him shattered.
Now, he was a ghost of the brother they had once known.
"Desmond!" Edward suddenly shouted.
Before either of them could react, he ran forward and pulled Desmond into a tight embrace.
"You’re so big now," Edward whispered, his voice filled with awe. "Oh my... what happened to ti? It feels like it’s been ten years since I last saw you."
Desmond stiffened. He glanced at Izara, his expression filled with unease.
He was rembering the last ti Edward had lost control.
"You two..." Edward’s voice wavered. He took a step back, looking between them. "You’ve forgotten about , haven’t you? That’s why you never visit anymore."
Izara felt her heart squeeze.
"That’s not true," she said softly.
Edward’s gaze darkened.
"I’M TALKING TO THE BOTH OF YOU!" he suddenly roared.
Izara and Desmond flinched.
"Yes," they replied in unison, their voices barely above a whisper.
The tension in the air was suffocating.
Then, Edward’s lips curled into a small smile. "Co," he said, motioning toward the bed. "I want to tell you two a story."
Izara and Desmond froze.
That was the warning sign.
Edward always wanted to tell them a story.
But every ti, without fail, sothing in his mind would snap.
Desmond’s eyes t hers. They didn’t need words. They both turned on their heels and bolted for the door.
"DON’T RUN FROM !" Edward scread.
They barely made it out in ti, slamming the door shut behind them. The tallic clang echoed through the room as they locked it.
BANG.
Edward’s fists pounded against the door.
"LET OUT!" he howled, his voice filled with rage.
Izara pressed her forehead against the cold tal, biting down on her lip to keep from crying.
Behind her, Desmond exhaled shakily.
"So," he said, breaking the silence, "what’s your plan?"
Izara wiped at her eyes. "The military officer I spoke to said he can’t act against the royal family," she admitted, her voice laced with frustration. "But he gave a file with a list of nas. People from other nations who might be willing to help."
Desmond frowned. "Do you trust them?"
"No," she admitted. "I don’t know if we can."
Desmond hesitated before saying, "What about Jennifer Reyez?"
Izara stiffened.
"She offered to help," he reminded her.
Izara shook her head. "Jennifer is involved in sex trafficking, too. They deal with won, and their operations are even worse than what our parents are doing."
Desmond exhaled sharply. "But she’s powerful. She has influence. If she’s offering to help, maybe—"
"I don’t trust her," Izara interrupted.
Desmond ran a hand through his hair. "Look, if we don’t act soon, Mom and Dad are going to start paying attention. If they co here, they’ll find Edward." Izara’s stomach twisted. And if they found Edward, it would all be over.
"It’s not like we have anything we have that can be of great interest to her. If she wants, she might as well take over this trafficking business." He added.
They need to act. Fast.
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