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CHAPTER 33: THE STAG
Prague looked like a fairy tale.
Cobblestone streets. Gothic architecture. The Vltava River cutting through ancient beauty. Too pretty for what we were here to do.
Tom's bachelor party. Last blowout before marrying into the Roy family and surrendering whatever independence he had left.
The hotel was obscene. Tom had spared no expense—probably overcompensating for the fact that he was still an outsider trying to prove he belonged.
I'd arrived with Kendall and Connor. Greg had come separately, looking terrified of the entire concept of Prague debauchery.
Tom greeted us in the lobby. Already drunk. Already performing.
"The Roys!" he announced. "My future family! Let's get fucking wild!"
Kendall gave him a bro-hug. Connor offered awkward congratulations. Greg hovered at the edges.
I shook Tom's hand. "Congratulations."
"Thanks, man. Thanks." He was sweating. Nervous energy pouring off him. "This is going to be legendary. Absolutely legendary."
The Empathy Engine pulsed. I let it extend slightly.
From Tom: Please let them accept me. Please let this work. Marrying Shiv means something. Means I'm someone. Means I'm not just... please let them see me as family—
Desperate. So desperate to belong.
I pulled back. Didn't need more than that.
The night proceeded as bachelor parties do. Bars. Clubs. Too much alcohol and too many bad decisions.
Where original Roman would've spiraled—drugs, chaos, the self-destructive spiral—I maintained control.
Drank enough to be social. Not enough to be impaired. Made appropriate jokes. Stayed sharp.
Tom kept pushing. "Come on, Roman! Live a little! This is Prague! What happens in Prague stays in Prague!"
"I'm good," I said.
"You're being boring. Since when are you the boring Roy?"
"Since I learned that interesting doesn't mean stupid."
He laughed. Clapped my shoulder. Moved on to torment Greg instead.
I observed. Used the Empathy Engine sparingly—just enough to read the room.
Kendall was drinking too much. Dancing with people he didn't know. That manic energy that preceded bad decisions.
Greg was terrified and trying to hide it. Matching drinks he couldn't handle.
Connor was Connor. Talking to anyone who'd listen about politics and ranches.
And Tom... Tom was performing. Desperately. Trying to prove he was fun, he was one of the guys, he belonged in this family.
Around two AM, most of the party had scattered to various nightclubs or hotel rooms. I found myself on a balcony with Tom. Just us. Prague spread below.
"You're different," Tom said. Drunk but lucid. "Everyone keeps saying it. Roman's different now."
"People change."
"Not Roys. Roys don't change. They just... are." He gestured with his drink. Sloshed some on the railing. "But you. Something happened to you. The hostage thing. Whatever. You're not the same."
"Is that bad?"
"I don't know. It's weird." He looked at me. "You scare me a little now. Before, you were just... Roman. The joke. The crude one. Now you're actually competent. That's scarier."
I let him talk. The Empathy Engine showed me layers beneath the words.
"I'm marrying your sister," Tom continued. "And I'm terrified. Of her. Of Logan. Of all of you. Because I'll never really be family. I'll always be the guy who married in. The outsider."
"That's in your head."
"Is it? Because from where I'm standing, the Roys eat outsiders. I'm just hoping I can make myself useful enough to not get consumed."
Truth. Painful truth. Tom saw his future clearly and was choosing it anyway.
"For what it's worth," I said, "you're more capable than you think. And less of an outsider than you fear."
"Really?"
"Really. You just need to stop performing so hard. Be yourself. That's enough."
He laughed. Sad and drunk. "I don't know who myself is anymore. Been performing for so long."
We stood in silence. Prague glittered below. Beautiful city. Terrible reason to be here.
Eventually Tom went back inside. I stayed on the balcony. Breathed the night air.
My phone buzzed. Gerri.
How's Prague?
Me: Excessive. Tom's terrified. Kendall's spiraling. Connor's Connor. Greg's drowning.
Gerri: And you?
Me: Observing. Maintaining. Missing you.
Gerri: Miss you too. Be safe. Come home.
Me: Soon.
Early morning. Four AM. The city quieter.
I couldn't sleep. Too much in my head. The wedding approaching. The disaster I knew was coming.
I walked out. Through empty Prague streets. Across the Charles Bridge.
Tourist city at dawn. Beautiful and ancient and completely indifferent to the small dramas of American billionaires.
I stopped in the middle of the bridge. Looked at the river. The statues lining the walkway. The castle on the hill.
Anonymous person in a beautiful place.
I pulled out my phone. Took a photo. Something to remember when this was over.
A moment of peace before the storm.
Because the storm was coming. I could feel it. The wedding. The party. The inevitable tragedy that ended Season One.
And I still didn't know if I could change it.
Or if I should even try.
The flight home was Sunday. Everyone hungover and quiet.
Tom slept. Greg looked like death. Connor talked at the flight attendants. Kendall stared out the window.
I sat beside Kendall. He didn't speak for the first hour.
Then, quietly: "I drank too much in Prague."
"Yeah."
"It's a bad habit. Drinking too much when I'm stressed."
I didn't respond. Let him continue.
"The wedding's coming up. Shiv's wedding. Big family event. Dad watching everyone. Judging. I'm dreading it."
"Why?"
"Because weddings are performances. And I'm so tired of performing." He looked at me. "Aren't you tired of it? The constant performance?"
"Every day."
"How do you deal with it?"
"I remember that some things are real. And I protect those things." I thought about Gerri. About the genuine moments. "Everything else is just noise."
He nodded. Went back to staring out the window.
I watched the clouds scroll past.
The wedding was in two weeks.
And I still didn't know how to save my brother from what came after.
But I'd promised. And I'd try.
The wounded king, flying toward disaster.
Hoping he could change what canon said was inevitable.
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