“Start talking,” Ava demanded.
The air in Ava's study felt heavy, almost like a thick blanket, and the walls were lined with books from floor to ceiling, making the space feel somewhat cramped.
A warm light flickered from the mantle, throwing a golden glow over the shiny dark wood furniture. It should have felt cosy and inviting, but instead, it felt unsettling, like a cage.
Alex stood still, the faint mark of Ava’s handprint on his cheek. He didn’t touch it or react in any way. Instead, he looked straight into her eyes, his golden-brown gaze meeting hers without any apology.
Ava stood across from him, silent, with her arms rigid at her sides. She was tense, and her bright green eyes were locked on him, without blinking.
“You want the truth?” Alex said at last. His voice was low, steady, but laced with something raw. “Fine.”
He took a slow step forward. “I’m Alex Moretti, or as you’ve come to know… X.”
The confession didn’t crack the air; it shattered it.
“I’ve been running the Moret
