Chapter 12: The Battle of wills

Ava sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the wall. The weight of exhaustion pressed down on her, but sleep had become a battleground—every time she closed her eyes, something lurked in the darkness, waiting.

Tonight was no different.

The moment she drifted off, she was back in that cold, empty penthouse. The scent of gunpowder still clung to the air, her hands trembling as she aimed the weapon. Jaxon Knight stood before her, but this time… something was different.

He wasn't the powerful, dangerous man she remembered. His hands were raised, his eyes wide with fear. "Please," he whispered. "I have a son. Don't do this."

Ava's heart pounded. No, this wasn't right. That wasn't what happened. She had killed a monster, hadn't she?

Her finger tightened on the trigger, but doubt slithered into her mind like poison. Jaxon fell to his knees, tears brimming in his eyes. "You've made a mistake," he choked out. "A terrible mistake."

The gunshot rang out, and Ava jolted awake, gasping for air.

Her room was dark, silent—yet the weight of the vision lingered, cold and suffocating.

What if she had been wrong?

Ava's breath came in quick, uneven gasps. She pressed a trembling hand against her chest, trying to steady her heartbeat. It was just a dream. A lie. She knew what she had done.

Didn't she?

The room felt suffocating, the shadows stretching unnaturally long in the dim glow of her bedside lamp. She rubbed her hands together, expecting the familiar warmth of her skin—but all she felt was cold.

Jaxon's voice still echoed in her mind. You've made a mistake. A terrible mistake.

Ava squeezed her eyes shut, forcing herself to breathe. This is what he wants. He's trying to break me.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand, making her flinch. She grabbed it quickly, relieved to see Elijah's name on the screen.

Elijah: Can't sleep. You okay?

Ava hesitated. She could tell him—he'd listen. He always did. But what if he started doubting her, too? What if she was wrong?

Before she could stop herself, her fingers moved.

Ava: I don't know anymore.

The reply came almost instantly.

Elijah: I'm coming over.

Ava stared at the screen, her pulse still racing. She wasn't sure what she wanted more—to be alone with her thoughts or to have someone pull her out of them before they swallowed her whole.

But one thing was clear.

Jaxon wasn't done with her yet.

A soft knock at the window made Ava jolt. She turned to see Elijah standing outside, his hoodie pulled over his head, his expression tense.

She hurried to unlock the window, letting him climb in. "You're insane for coming here this late," she muttered, but there was no real bite in her words.

Elijah shrugged. "You texted me like you were about to spiral. What kind of friend would I be if I just ignored that?"

Ava exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. "I—" She hesitated. The words felt like they were lodged in her throat. What if he doesn't believe me?

Elijah sat on the edge of her bed, watching her carefully. "Ava, talk to me."

She swallowed. "I… I think Jaxon is messing with my head."

Elijah's brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

Before she could answer, the air in the room shifted. The temperature dropped, making her skin prickle with an unnatural chill. The lamp flickered once, then twice, before the light sputtered out completely.

Then, a voice.

Low. Cold. Familiar.

"You shouldn't have let him in, Ava."

Her stomach twisted.

Jaxon was here.

Ava's breath hitched, and when she turned, her blood ran cold. The shadows in the corner of the room stretched, forming into something solid. Jaxon's figure emerged, his eyes dark with something unreadable.

Elijah didn't react. He couldn't see him.

But Ava could.

Jaxon took a slow step forward, his lips curling into something almost amused. "You really think he's going to understand?" His voice was smooth, deceptively gentle. "You think he'll look at you the same once he knows what you did?"

Ava clenched her fists, her heartbeat hammering against her ribs. "Shut up," she whispered.

Elijah's head snapped toward her. "Ava?" His voice was laced with concern. "Who are you talking to?"

Jaxon smirked, his form flickering in and out like a broken signal. "Go on. Tell him," he taunted. "Tell him what you saw. Tell him how you killed his father. And then watch the way he looks at you."

Ava's breathing grew shallow. She wanted to tell Elijah everything—but Jaxon's words slithered into her mind, poisoning the courage she had left.

Maybe he was right.

Maybe Elijah wouldn't look at her the same.

Ava's breath trembled, but she forced herself to stand taller. Jaxon's words coiled around her like a noose, squeezing doubt into her ribs. But she wasn't the same girl who had woken up in that hospital bed, lost and afraid.

She had survived him once. She would survive him again.

Ava squared her shoulders, meeting Jaxon's dark gaze. "You don't get to control me," she said, her voice stronger than she expected. "Not anymore."

Jaxon's smirk twitched, but the amusement in his eyes didn't fade. "You say that like you have a choice."

Elijah shifted beside her. "Ava?" His voice was cautious, worried. "What's going on?"

The air felt heavy, thick like molasses, pressing down on her chest. Ava's fingers curled into the fabric of her sleeves as she forced herself to focus. "He's trying to make me doubt myself," she muttered. "Trying to twist my mind."

Jaxon let out a soft, amused hum. "Because you know I'm right." His voice dipped into something almost tender, almost convincing. "You see it, don't you? You feel it."

The flickering image of Elijah kneeling at his father's grave flashed through her mind. She saw the way his fingers dug into the dirt, the silent tears streaking down his face.

Jaxon had shown her this. He had forced this vision into her mind.

And for a moment, it almost broke her.

She gritted her teeth, shaking her head as if she could physically dislodge the thought from her mind. "You're lying," she said, but her voice wavered.

Jaxon took a slow step forward, shadows curling around him like a living entity. "Am I?" he murmured. His voice slithered into her ears, deceptively soft. "What if I was just a man trying to protect my son? What if you killed me for nothing?"

Ava squeezed her eyes shut. No. He's manipulating me.

Her stomach twisted violently, and suddenly the room shifted.

The walls blurred, stretching into something different—something horrifyingly familiar.

She wasn't in her bedroom anymore. She was back in Jaxon's penthouse.

The night she killed him.

The smell of gunpowder hung in the air, thick and acrid. Her fingers curled around the cool metal of a gun—her gun. And Jaxon was in front of her, just like before. But this time, he wasn't the man she had faced that night.

He was on his knees, trembling. His lips quivered as he whispered, "Please. I have a son. Don't do this."

Ava's hands shook. The weight of the gun felt heavier now, as if it carried the truth of what she had done.

Had she made a mistake?

Had she killed an innocent man?

No—no, this wasn't real. It wasn't real.

A cold, mocking laugh echoed around her. The vision shattered like glass, the pieces cutting through her mind as she was yanked back into the present.

She gasped, stumbling backward, her head spinning. The bedroom returned to focus, but the weight of the illusion still clung to her.

Elijah caught her before she could collapse. "Ava!" He gripped her arms, panic flashing in his eyes. "Talk to me—what's happening?"

Ava's breaths came in sharp, shallow bursts. The room still felt warped, like it wasn't entirely solid. But Elijah's hands on her arms grounded her. His warmth was real. He was real.

And so was Jaxon.

Ava lifted her head and met Jaxon's gaze again. His smirk had returned, sharper now, smug. He knew he was getting to her.

And that's when something inside Ava snapped.

She clenched her fists, her body tensing with something hot and electric. Her power. She wasn't just some helpless girl being haunted—she had the ability to fight back.

Ava closed her eyes, inhaling deeply, and when she exhaled, she pushed outward.

The air trembled. The shadows in the room recoiled. Jaxon flinched.

Elijah felt it, too. His grip on her arms tightened as he whispered, "What the hell…"

Ava stepped forward, her pulse pounding in her ears. "You don't control me," she repeated, firmer this time.

Jaxon's smirk faltered.

Ava could feel it—his hold on her was slipping. His form flickered, like a dying flame struggling to stay lit.

She wasn't afraid of him. Not anymore.

The energy inside her surged, growing stronger. The room pulsed with it, the walls groaning as if they, too, could feel the shift.

Ava took another step forward. "You want me to doubt myself? To question what I did?" Her voice was steady now, unwavering. "You were a monster, Jaxon. And you still are."

Jaxon's face twisted, but this time, there was no smugness in his expression.

Ava felt a surge of satisfaction. Good. Let him feel weak for once.

Elijah stood frozen beside her, watching as Jaxon's form wavered again. "Ava…" His voice was barely above a whisper.

Ava ignored him. She focused all her energy, all her will, and pushed harder.

Jaxon let out a snarl, his face contorting with rage. "This isn't over," he hissed. His voice was layered—distorted, like it was coming from multiple places at once.

Ava held her ground. "Yes, it is."

With one final pulse of energy, Jaxon's form shattered into wisps of darkness, dissolving into nothing.

Silence fell over the room.

Ava's knees nearly buckled, but Elijah caught her. "Jesus, Ava," he murmured, his voice full of concern. "What the hell was that?"

Ava swallowed hard, her throat dry. She felt like she had just run a marathon, every inch of her body trembling with exhaustion.

But despite that, she had won.

For now.

She looked up at Elijah, forcing herself to take a steady breath. "I told you," she said quietly. "I see ghosts."

Elijah stared at her, his grip on her arms still firm.

Then, to her surprise, he gave a small, determined nod. "Then we figure out how to deal with them," he said simply.

Ava's chest tightened. He didn't run. He didn't question her sanity.

He believed her.

For the first time in what felt like forever, she didn't feel so alone.

But deep down, she knew one thing for certain.

Jaxon wasn't gone. Not really.

And he would be back.