Chapter 63 – Cold Hard Truth

That night, after the sparring match, Bastian insisted on sleeping in the other room. "We both need to rest," he said, his voice soft but firm. Anastasia didn't argue, though part of her wanted to protest. The training had taken its toll on all of them, and with just a few days left on the island, they needed all the energy they could muster. Still, she missed the warmth of his presence as she settled into bed.

As sleep took over, Anastasia drifted into a dream, one that felt so real she could almost taste it. She was lying in bed, the soft caress of someone's hand gliding down her arm, their touch sending shivers through her body. The hand moved lower, brushing against her waist, and then slid further, fingers exploring intimately. She sighed, believing it was Bastian, the heat of his body so close to hers, his lips trailing soft kisses along her neck. She smiled into the pillow, comforted by the familiarity of him.

But then, something felt off. The touch became rougher, possessive. Anastasia's eyes fluttered open, the weight of the person beside her suddenly unfamiliar. Her heart dropped into her stomach as she looked up—and saw Dylan. His face was close, too close. His smirk sent a jolt of terror through her.

Anastasia woke with a start, gasping for air, her heart pounding wildly. She shot upright, blinking into the darkness, trying to shake the image from her mind. It was just a nightmare. It had to be. There was no way Dylan could have been in her room. Yet the feeling of his hands on her skin lingered, making her shudder.

Her chest heaved as she hugged herself, trying to push the nightmare away, but it left a stain on her thoughts, one that wouldn't fade quickly.

The next few days were relentless. The final stages of training were grueling, but Anastasia, Matt, Sean, and Rose no longer needed to be pushed. Their bodies had been honed to perfection. The constant exhaustion from those first weeks had been replaced by strength, endurance, and discipline. They could sprint for five hours without faltering, their footwork precise, their stamina seemingly endless.

The martial arts they once struggled to grasp had become second nature, their movements fluid and deadly. Anastasia could take down an opponent twice her size with ease, and even Matt, who had relied heavily on his strength, now moved with the grace of a seasoned fighter.

Bastian, meanwhile, had been undergoing his own training. His powers had improved drastically, and under Billy's guidance, he had unlocked abilities he hadn't even known he possessed. His telepathic skills had sharpened, and he could now sense emotions, manipulate energy, and even create powerful shields to protect those he loved. Billy had pushed him harder than ever, and the bond between them had strengthened as well. Each day, Bastian grew more confident in his abilities, and with each sparring session, he and Billy pushed their limits, increasing their strength and precision.

The night before they were set to leave the island and face the threats that awaited them, the air was thick with anticipation. They knew that their time for preparation had come to an end, and what awaited them was far more dangerous than any sparring match or training session.

Anastasia sat alone by the fire that the boys had set up outside earlier, the flickering flames casting shadows across her face. The warmth of the fire did little to ease the chill in her bones. She sensed Bastian before he even approached, the bond between them thrumming quietly. There was something on his mind that evening. She could sense it during dinner and even now, the way he approached her after everyone had gone to bed.

He sat down beside her, silent for a long moment, staring into the fire. "There's something I need to tell you," he said finally, his voice low.

Anastasia turned to him, her brows furrowing. "What is it?"

Bastian exhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair. "I've been keeping things from you. Things you deserve to know."

Anastasia's stomach knotted. "What kind of things?"

He hesitated, as if searching for the right words. "Do you remember the night you got drunk… the night you ended up at Dylan's?"

Anastasia nodded slowly. It wasn't a memory she liked to revisit. "Yeah."

"I was the one who carried you to his car," Bastian admitted. "I didn't want to, but… you were in bad shape, and I didn't know what else to do. He didn't see me but I stayed with you until I knew you'd be safe. But it wasn't easy watching you with him. It drove me insane."

Anastasia blinked, the confession catching her off guard. "You were there?"

"I was always there," Bastian continued, his voice thick with emotion. "I was the one who knocked on Dylan's door that morning… out of jealousy, out of desperation. I didn't want you to be with him, but I knew I couldn't stop you. I just… I couldn't leave you alone."

Anastasia stared at him, her heart pounding. "Bastian, I—"

"That's not all," he interrupted, his gaze intense. "I watched over you for four years. After I died… I went to train for four months in preparation to be an Angel Warrior but I convinced my superiors to let me come down here and since then I never left you. I saw everything. I heard everything. Even when I went with Billy, I could still feel you, still hear you."

Anastasia's breath hitched. "You… you saw me? After you died?"

Bastian nodded. "I saw you that night, Ana. I was there, just before I went to the celestial city. I heard every word you said to me."

Tears welled in Anastasia's eyes as the weight of his confession sank in. He had been with her all this time, even when she thought he was gone forever.

He took a deep breath, the hardest part yet to come. "There's more," he said softly, his voice breaking. "I've only got a year left here. One year to protect you. After that… I have to go back. I have to resume my duties in the Celestial City."

Anastasia felt as if the ground had been ripped out from under her. "What?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"I have to go back," Bastian repeated, his eyes filled with sorrow. "I was given this time to protect you, but when it's over… I can't stay. I'll have to leave."

Anastasia's heart shattered. The words hit her like a blow, and she shook her head, refusing to believe it. "No. No, you can't leave me."

Bastian reached for her hand, his grip firm but gentle. "I don't want to leave you. But I don't have a choice."

Tears spilled down her cheeks, and she pulled her hand away, standing up abruptly. "This can't be happening," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "I just got you back. You can't leave again."

Bastian stood, stepping toward her, his expression pained. "Ana…"

But she couldn't bear to hear any more. "No!" she shouted, backing away. "You can't just drop this on me now."

Before Bastian could say another word, Anastasia turned and ran into the night, her heart in pieces, her mind spinning with the weight of everything he'd just told her.

The storm that had been brewing for so long had finally hit, and as Anastasia disappeared into the darkness, she knew that nothing would ever be the same again.