Being the head of the Mafia came with its rewards—money, influence, unquestioned power.

But it also demanded distance. Distance, Reign Mason hated. Too many nights away. Too many flights taken without his little bird tucked safely at his side. Klqu_bby was… fragile. Clinically unstable, the doctors said, though none of them truly understood her the way Reign did. She needed routine. Presence. Him. And when he was gone?

The silence of the house became dangerous.

Left alone, Klqu_bby had a talent for finding trouble—whether that meant repainting the kitchen at three in the morning, picking fights with armed guards, or spiraling into something far darker. Boredom gnawed at her. The quiet swallowed her whole. And she always found some way to make the emptiness stop.

“I’ve got to go, darling…” Reign murmured, voice low and careful as he brushed a loose strand of hair from her face. He hated the way she looked up at him then—eyes wide, glassy, silently begging him not to leave.

Please don’t go.

“You know I’d stay if I could.” He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, lingering longer than he should. “Behave for me, my little bird,” he added softly. “I won’t be gone long.”

Stepping away felt wrong. Leaving her behind always did.