Novel & Cerita When His Perfect Mask Shattered, I Awoke

cold, unreadable behind the mask. “When you wake up, remember….. you chose this.” his voice was muffled and echoing almost gentle. Then everything went black.

Is that who he’s been? I don’t want to know. I don’t want to see. I lean against the wall in the shadows grasping for a steadying breath, my heart shredding to pieces. He’s Jake Carrero. This is how he is; this is how he always is. I need to forget all that crap on the boat and get a grip, put the mask back on … Please put it back on! … I can’t! Its fallen on the floor and broken into a million pieces today and I can’t find any crazy glue to piece it back together. I’m left vulnerable and I hate it. This isn’t me. I stare at my hands in the dark watching them tremble, then my body follows suit.

In the end, I didn’t even get to see his face. He was wearing a black mask and just when he was about to take it off, I woke up. Those blue eyes, those graceful fingers, and the black mask. A sharp pain shot through my brain and then my head started to ache like never before. I quickly closed my eyes and concentrated on breathing deeply as I waited for the pain to subside. When I opened my eyes again, a plain white ceiling greeted me.

My fingers curled into fists. “You’re throwing your life away,” he said—snarled. Because the mask had cracked. He was seeing the real me, and I was seeing the real him, too. He rose from his chair. “You’re allowing one heartbreak to turn you into someone I don’t even know.”

The same claw-mark scars from his human face ran across his muzzle. He lunged—not at Samuel, but toward the broken window at the end of the hall. Glass shattered as he crashed through, landing on the grass below. I staggered forward, trying to follow, trying to finish the fight. But my vision wasn’t working anymore. Darkness crept in at the edges. The last thing I saw was the white mask lying on the floor. I reached for it, fingers grazing the smooth surface. Then— Everything went black.

The hooded man died when his mask was shattered. I dashed towards Tracy and struck her abdomen with the bottom end of my sword's hilt. She growled with pain and fell on the floor. I flipped her over, sat on her, and tried to pry the mask from her face. She clawed at me and scratched me. I was bleeding. It took almost all my strength to remove the mask. Her mask was glued to her face with black slime. I pulled and I pulled until finally, I got it off her face. Tracy stopped struggling and lay motionless on the floor. I threw the mask behind me and checked for a pulse. She was still alive, thank God. I felt my mask vanish from my face like blowing on a dandelion. I shook her trying to wake her

The Masked Guy has been my sanctuary, my escape from reality when everything else became too much to bear. But another part of me— the part that's been shattered and rebuilt so many times I've lost count— needs to know. Needs to understand how he's here, in this moment, when my life has just exploded into a million jagged pieces. The mask lifts away from his face like a curtain being drawn back on a stage. And everything stops. Every thought in my head evaporates. Every breath leaves my lungs in a rush that makes spots dance across my vision. The face looking back at me is impossible, incomprehensible, a reality my mind simply refuses to process.

He stopped three feet away—close enough to touch, close enough to kill. "Neoma," he whispered. My breath hitched. The sound of my name on his tongue broke something inside me—some dam I had built to hold back the grief of the last month. My chest ached. A physical pressure behind my sternum. "Take it off," I croaked. My voice trembled. "Let me see you." His hand came up. He unclasped the mask. Click. It fell to the ground. Shattering on the stone. Crash.

With a brusque motion, he tore off the black mask that had always hidden his face. It was the first time I had seen the true face of the Cursed Alpha since I arrived here. He always wore that mask, a barrier that separated him from the world. But now, with his eyes fixed on me, the truth was exposed. His skin was marked by dark spots, deep scars, and burns that deformed a part of his face—the marks of the fire I believed had taken his life.

The tears keep coming and I keep letting them fall. I don’t know how long I spend crying. But soon, the tears stop coming. I get to my feet, wipe my eyes, and walk into the ring. I pick my mask up, running my shaky fingers over the smooth surface. In here, I don’t need to be Thorne. I don’t need a mask. I will make sure I never have to wear a mask again. I’ve shed my last tears for my lost love. It’s over now. Burned to ash. Never to be recovered.