CHAPTER 49 – The Breaking Point

The air between them was thick with tension, a weight neither of them could shake. Eve stood in front of Alexander, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. Her eyes burned with frustration, with desperation. "You're walking into something you can't come back from. You know that, right?"

Alexander exhaled sharply, turning away from her. The dim light of their hideout cast harsh shadows over his face, accentuating the bruises that hadn't yet healed. "I don't have a choice, Eve. This isn't about what I want—it's about what has to be done."

She grabbed his arm, forcing him to face her. "No, Alexander. You always have a choice. You just refuse to take the one that doesn't end in blood."

His jaw clenched. He couldn't afford to let her in any deeper. Every time he did, it only put her in more danger. His father had already made that clear. "You think this is about me? About my anger?" He laughed, but it was a hollow, bitter sound. "This is survival. My father won't stop. Carver won't stop. If I hesitate, if I let myself get comfortable, they'll take everything from me—including you."

Eve's expression hardened. "Then let me help. Don't shut me out. We're in this together."

Alexander pulled away, shaking his head. "That's exactly why I have to push you away. If you stay close, they'll use you against me. My father has already proven that. Carver has proven that. You're my weakness, Eve. And they know it."

Her voice wavered, but her resolve didn't. "I don't care. You think you're protecting me by shutting me out? You're just making me an easier target."

He stared at her for a long moment before stepping back. "Go, Eve. Before it's too late."

She didn't move. Not at first. But when she saw the cold determination in his eyes—the finality in his words—her heart clenched. Swallowing hard, she turned and walked away, refusing to let him see the tears brimming in her eyes.

The attack came that night.

Eve had barely made it back to her apartment when the air shifted, a presence lurking in the shadows. A lifetime of running, of surviving, had honed her instincts. She knew she wasn't alone.

The moment she stepped inside, she didn't bother turning on the lights. Her fingers hovered over the knife she kept on the kitchen counter, but she wasn't fast enough.

A hand clamped over her mouth. An arm locked around her throat. She thrashed, kicking backward, but her attacker was strong, precise. A low voice whispered against her ear, chilling her to the bone.

"A message from your lover's father. He should've stayed dead. And so should you."

Her vision blurred as the pressure tightened against her windpipe. Panic surged through her veins, but she refused to go down easy. With the last of her strength, she slammed her heel into her attacker's knee and wrenched free, stumbling forward. She barely had time to catch her breath before the glint of a blade slashed through the darkness.

She dodged—just barely—but pain seared across her arm. Blood dripped onto the floor. Her pulse roared in her ears. No time to think. Only to act.

She lunged, using her smaller frame to her advantage, knocking the attacker off balance. The struggle was brutal, silent except for the scuffle of feet and the sharp intakes of breath. Then, just as quickly as it had begun, it ended.

The attacker crumpled to the ground, a knife buried in his side. Eve staggered back, her own breath ragged.

She didn't have to guess who sent him.

Alexander's father had made his move.

The phone rang in the middle of the night. Alexander answered without hesitation, his heart already racing.

"Alexander…" Eve's voice was shaky, weak.

His blood turned to ice. "What happened?"

A pause. Then, "He sent someone. I barely made it out."

The world around him blurred. His grip tightened around the phone until his knuckles turned white. His father had crossed the line. This wasn't just a warning.

This was war.

A slow, deadly fury took over him, eclipsing everything else. "Where are you?"

"At my place, but I can't stay here."

"I'm coming. Stay put."

He didn't waste time. Within minutes, he was out the door, his mind a storm of violence. His father had made a mistake—a fatal one.

And Alexander was going to make sure he paid for it.

Eve sat on the couch, her arm hastily wrapped in bandages, her fingers still trembling from the adrenaline. When Alexander arrived, the moment his eyes landed on her injury, something in him snapped.

He crouched in front of her, taking her hand gently, his usual hardened expression replaced with something unreadable. "Did he say anything?"

She hesitated before nodding. "He wanted to send a message." Eve took a shaky breath before repeating the words exactly as they were told to her. "'Love is your greatest weakness, son. That's why you'll never win.'"

A dark, humorless chuckle escaped Alexander's lips. "That's where he's wrong."

His father thought love was his weakness. But he had no idea.

It was the very thing that made Alexander unstoppable.

And now, he was going to burn everything his father had built to the ground.