Saint’s POV

The city did not welcome us back. It never would.I could feel it in the weight of every glance, in the sharp edges of voices that lowered when I walked past. The cabin had been silence, but silence here was different. It wasn’t peace. It was pressure. Waiting for me to crack.I told myself I didn’t care. I told myself the only voice that mattered was hers. But telling and believing were not the same.At night, when Maya slept soundly in my arms, I stared out at the skyline through the glass. The city glittered like it was mocking me. My empire without a king. My crown without a head. They were still out there, chanting my name in shadows, waiting for me to remind them who I was.But I wasn’t theirs anymore.I had to remind myself of that every hour, every minute, every breath.Lucio didn’t help. He came by the day after we returned, his face tight, his words sharper than usual.“You think the city forgets?” he demanded, dropping a newspaper on the counter. The headline was nothing ne

Last Updated : 2025-09-30

Maya’s POV

Life after the cabin felt like balancing on glass.Every step forward with Saint was careful, deliberate. We built our days out of small moments—cooking, shopping, sitting together in quiet—and each one felt precious. But beneath them, I always felt the city pressing against us, waiting for a crack.He tried to hide it from me, but I could see it in his eyes. The hunger. The war. The constant tension in his body when we walked the streets. He said he was done, and I believed him. But I also knew that being done was not the same as being free.I wanted to believe freedom was possible. For him. For us.One morning, I woke to find him already gone from bed. My chest tightened, fear rushing through me before I even moved. I found him in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a cup of coffee, staring at the sketch of the house.“You’re thinking about it again,” I said softly.He looked up, his expression unreadable. “Always.”I stepped closer, tracing the lines of the paper with my

Last Updated : 2025-09-30

Saint’s POV

The skyline was louder than words.I stood at the window most nights, staring out at the towers and the streets, the lights burning like a thousand open eyes. They remembered me. I could feel it in the way the air shifted, in the way voices carried when I walked past. The city never forgot its kings. It waited for them to fall.I used to feed on that. I used to crave it like oxygen. Fear was my crown. Blood was my throne. But now, standing in the dark with Maya asleep in the other room, I felt the hunger differently. It was still there, sharp and relentless, but it wasn’t everything anymore. She was.I turned from the glass and went back to bed. She stirred when I slid beside her, curling against me like I was her home. Her hand pressed flat against my chest, steadying me without even knowing it. I buried my face in her hair and whispered a promise she would never hear.I’ll keep walking away. For you.The next morning, I tried to hold onto that vow. I made coffee, burned the toast, l

Last Updated : 2025-09-30

Maya’s POV

Every day with Saint felt like both a victory and a test.I knew the city wasn’t done with him. I saw it in the way strangers stared, in the smirks that lingered too long, in the whispers that always seemed to carry his name. I saw it in the way his body tensed when we passed an alley, in the way his jaw clenched when young men laughed too loud. He told me he was done, and I believed him. But being done didn’t mean the world believed it too.At the cabin, I had tasted a life free from all of that. Quiet mornings. Laughter over burnt food. Evenings by the fire where his eyes were soft instead of sharp. Coming back had reminded me how fragile that peace really was.Still, I held on.Because I saw the way he chose me. Over and over, in small moments. He held my hand when the whispers rose. He kissed me when the hunger burned in his chest. He turned away when everything in him wanted to turn back. That was love. That was war. And it mattered more than anything the city thought it could de

Last Updated : 2025-09-30

Maya’s POV

The city didn’t quiet down after Saint told me we would start looking for a house. If anything, it got louder.Graffiti painted his name across alley walls. Red, black, jagged letters that seemed to pulse under the streetlights when we passed them. Sometimes it was just “Saint.” Sometimes it was “King.” Sometimes it was a crown scrawled above the letters, crude and defiant.He never stopped walking, never said a word. But I saw the tension in his jaw, the way his hand tightened around mine, the way his eyes flicked from shadow to shadow.The whispers grew too. Shopkeepers lowering their voices when he entered. Young men smirking like they knew something about him. Older men nodding, respect or fear etched into their faces. The city remembered him, even if he had tried to bury that man.I hated it.Because every time someone said his name like it still belonged to them, I wanted to scream. He wasn’t theirs. He wasn’t the city’s. He was mine.But claiming him didn’t erase the pull.One

Last Updated : 2025-09-30

All Chapters of His Halo is a Lie: Chapter 81 - Chapter 85

Saint’s POV

Maya’s POV

Saint’s POV

Maya’s POV

Maya’s POV