"Six years, and you still visit her grave. You must really miss her, Sir. But tell me, do you believe everything you read?" Vixen's new consigliere asked, curiosity lacing his tone.
Vixen let out a long, weighted breath, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, eyes fixed on something in the distance.
For a moment, time seemed to slow. The tension in the air was thick, his thoughts heavy.
His jaw clenched, a storm of emotions brewing as his gaze locked onto Enim's grave.
"I don't know if I should," he muttered through gritted teeth. "It was her own words. She wrote it herself. But every year, like clockwork, I come here. And every year, my heart remains trapped in the past. I wish she'd told me the truth. I wish she'd shared what she was going through... maybe then I could've protected her from everything that happened."
Marcus stepped closer, his presence a steadying force as he placed a hand on Vixen's shoulder, offering a deep sigh in solidarity.
