Six weeks later, the empire fell.
Lucien was gone.
Not killed. Exiled. Powerless. The men who once knelt before him now bowed to no one.Day didn't take his place.
He burned the throne.
Let it rot with everything his father tried to build from fear and bullets.
He didn't want to rule.He wanted peace.
And he wanted Sky.
The safehouse wasn't theirs anymore.Now it was a home.
The walls were painted. Soft lights in the corners. Mugs that didn't match.A cat Sky rescued from the warehouse district slept curled up on their bed.
Day stood in the kitchen, shirt half-buttoned, flipping pancakes with a fork like he was absolutely not trained for domesticity.
Sky leaned on the doorway, watching with a grin.
"You know, for a mafia heir, you're weirdly bad at breakfast."
Day didn't turn. "You say that like pancakes weren't invented just to insult me."
"Maybe they were. I mean, I wouldn't put it past your father."
Day turned then. Smirked.
There it was—that look that meant Sky was the only person who'd ever gotten under his skin and stayed there.
"Come here," Day said.
Sky crossed to him.
Day wrapped an arm around his waist and kissed him like there wasn't a war behind them.Like the only thing that mattered now was this morning.
They ate breakfast on the floor. Day burned half the batch. Sky didn't mind.
When the sunlight spilled through the window just right, Sky said,
"We made it out."
Day nodded, eyes soft.
Sky added, "So let's make it matter."
That night, they curled up on the couch, limbs tangled, hearts slower.No ghosts between them. No orders. No guns.
Just breath.
And peace.
And maybe—for the first time—forever.
THE END.
Signing out
SID~~~