A WAR INSIDE.

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Volume 2, Chapter 71 – A War Inside.

Vincent had said it.

He had let the words slip, raw and unguarded.

And now?

Now, he didn't know how to take them back.

Zane hadn't pushed. Hadn't thrown them in his face. He had just looked at him—like Vincent had finally given him something real. Something Zane had been waiting to hear all along.

And that? That was almost worse.

Because Vincent didn't know what it meant.

Didn't know what he was supposed to do now.

So he did nothing.

He sat on the edge of the bed in the safe house, elbows resting on his knees, his head in his hands. The room felt smaller than before, suffocating in its silence.

Cain was watching him from across the room, his arms crossed, his expression unreadable. For once, he wasn't saying anything.

That was dangerous.

Cain was only quiet when he was waiting for Vincent to admit something.

Vincent exhaled sharply. "Just say it."

Cain lifted an eyebrow. "Say what?"

Vincent clenched his jaw. "Whatever it is you're thinking."

Cain tilted his head slightly. "You sure you want to hear it?"

Vincent let out a bitter chuckle. "No. But that's never stopped you before."

Cain studied him for a moment. Then—

"You're scared."

Vincent tensed.

Cain leaned back against the wall, voice calm. "You're not mad at Zane anymore. You just don't know what to do with how you feel."

Vincent's fingers curled into fists. "That's not—"

Cain cut him off with a sharp look. "Don't lie to me, Vincent. You're not good at it."

Vincent inhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair.

Because Cain was right.

And that pissed him off.

Cain shrugged. "Look, I get it. Letting someone in? Letting yourself want something? That's not easy. But you already made your choice."

Vincent frowned. "What choice?"

Cain's lips quirked into something that wasn't quite a smile.

"You chose him, Vincent."

Vincent swallowed hard.

Because that? That was the part that scared him the most.

Cain's voice softened. "You think you can undo that? Walk away and pretend you don't care?"

Vincent's stomach twisted.

He wanted to say yes.

Wanted to pretend he could forget, that this wasn't pulling him apart piece by piece.

But Cain wasn't done.

"That night at the auction?" Cain continued. "The second you saw him—when you realized he was there—you changed. You didn't hesitate, didn't think. You went straight to him."

Vincent didn't say anything.

Cain shook his head. "And when the attack happened? You didn't run, Vincent. You weren't thinking about your own survival. You only cared about getting to Zane."

Vincent exhaled harshly, shaking his head. "That's not—"

Cain stepped closer. "Then tell me, Vincent. What would've happened if he got shot that night?"

Vincent's pulse stuttered.

Cain's gaze sharpened. "If Jasper had killed him, would you have walked away?"

Vincent's throat felt tight.

Cain waited.

Vincent clenched his fists, his chest burning. Because he didn't need to answer. They both knew the truth.

If Zane had died that night—

Vincent wouldn't have walked away.

He would've burned the world down.

Cain sighed, shaking his head. "You already know the answer. You've known it for a long time."

Vincent exhaled sharply, his voice quieter now. "It's not that simple."

Cain gave him a look. "It is, actually."

Vincent let out a humorless laugh. "It shouldn't be."

Cain tilted his head. "Why?"

Vincent clenched his jaw. "Because it's dangerous."

Cain raised an eyebrow. "More dangerous than pretending you don't care?"

Vincent swallowed. "I don't—"

Cain didn't let him finish. "Then why are you still here, Vincent?"

Silence.

A heavy, suffocating silence.

Because Vincent had no answer.

Cain took a step back, studying him. "Zane isn't the problem here. You are."

Vincent inhaled sharply.

Cain turned toward the door. "Fix it. Before it's too late."

Then—he left.

And Vincent?

Vincent just sat there.

The war inside him raging louder than ever.

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