CHAPTER 61 – The Ghosts of the Past

The battle was over, but the war inside Alexander was only beginning.

The scent of blood still lingered in his mind, even though the fight had ended days ago. His wounds were healing, stitched up by careful hands, but his body still ached like he'd been torn apart and barely put back together. He sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the wall, his breathing slow, measured—like if he let it slip, everything would collapse.

Eve moved quietly behind him, placing a cup of coffee on the nightstand. "You need to eat something."

He didn't respond. He wasn't sure if he even heard her. His mind was somewhere else—trapped in a place between the past and the present, between the living and the dead.

The first time it happened, he thought it was exhaustion. A trick of the light.

Then he saw them again.

The shadows in the corners of the room. The ghosts of the men he had killed. The ones he failed to save. Their eyes were hollow, accusing, watching him. He closed his own, trying to shake them away, but their voices were louder in the silence.

You should have died.

You don't deserve to be here.

You're no different from him.

He exhaled sharply and stood up, running a hand through his hair. He felt the weight of Eve's gaze on him, but he couldn't look at her. He didn't want her to see whatever was breaking inside of him.

"You're doing it again."

He flinched at her voice. "Doing what?"

"Shutting me out."

He sighed, shaking his head. "I'm fine."

"You're lying."

He turned to her then, his jaw tight. "What do you want me to say, Eve? That I can't sleep without seeing their faces? That I can still hear him in my head, telling me that I'll never be free?" He exhaled sharply. "Because that's the truth."

She didn't back away. She didn't flinch. She stepped closer. "Then let me help you."

He clenched his fists, his body tense. "You can't help me."

Eve's eyes darkened. "You don't get to decide that."

But he did. He had to.

Because the deeper she stayed in his world, the more she'd suffer for it. His father may have fallen, but the damage was done. There would always be someone waiting in the shadows, looking for a way to hurt him—and the easiest way was through her.

His nightmares weren't just in his head. They were real.

And if he let her stay, she'd become one of them.

He turned away. "Eve… you need to leave."

Her breath caught. "What?"

He swallowed hard, forcing himself to say the words. "You'll never be safe with me. No matter what I do, no matter how much I try to change… I'll always be this. Blood, violence, destruction." His voice dropped. "I don't need saving, Eve. I need this to end."

The silence stretched between them, heavy, unbearable. Then she stepped forward, grabbing his face with both hands, forcing him to meet her gaze.

"I don't care."

His breath hitched.

"I don't care how broken you think you are. I don't care how many ghosts you see or how much blood is on your hands. I love you, Alexander. And I'm not going anywhere."

His walls cracked, just for a moment. His hands found her waist, gripping her like she was the only real thing left in his world. She pressed her forehead against his, her voice a whisper.

"You're not alone."

For the first time in days, the ghosts went silent.

But the war inside him was far from over.