Alex's breath hitched.
A weight crushed his chest, heavier than anything he'd ever carried on the battlefield. His fingers curled into tight fists, trembling. My fault… The words echoed in his mind, cruel and sharp.
My fault…
His legs buckled.
He stumbled forward, hands slamming onto the cold floor of the hideout, the smooth steel beneath his fingers turning slick from the sweat pooling in his palms. His eyes stung, but he refused to blink. Refused to cry. But no matter how tightly he clenched his jaw, no matter how hard he tried to keep it in—his mother's voice still played over and over in his mind like a curse.
"They know what you could become… They'll stop at nothing…"
He let out a harsh, broken breath. "So it's because of me…" he whispered, barely audible, but each word carried the weight of a landslide. "Logan… Mogan… Dad…"
He slammed his fist into the floor.
"Because of me!"
The force left a small crack on the metallic surface, blood now dripping from his knuckles.
