After I Torched Alive, My Alpha Went crazy novel Chapter 145

"I will," I said, softer now, my resolve beginning to solidify. The words felt strange on my tongue, but they were the right ones.

I couldn’t leave; I couldn’t drag Cyrus into all of this mess. "But no more threats, Merhold. Not with my son."

Merhold’s gaze softened, his features relaxing ever so slightly. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. For a moment, it felt like the walls between us had crumbled.

He wasn’t just a figure of power anymore. He was someone. Someone who was complicated and misunderstood.

"Understood," he said, his voice a little more genuine. But there was still something in his eyes that I couldn’t quite understand.

Over the next few days, there was an odd tension between Merhold and me. It wasn’t hostility anymore, but it wasn’t peace either.

There were moments where he would look at me in a way that made my heart race, and then he would look away, as if unsure of what he was seeing.

One evening, as I walked into the room, I caught him staring out of the window. His gaze was fixed on something far beyond the horizon. His profile was sharp, his features a study in both strength and vulnerability.

"You’re still not saying everything," I said, standing in the doorway. "What’s your deal, Merhold? Why this? Why all of this?"

He didn’t turn to face me right away. But after a long pause, he finally spoke, his voice lower than usual. "I don’t want to lie to you, Grace. But sometimes… it’s hard to trust anyone."

I stepped closer, feeling an inexplicable pull toward him. "You didn’t trust me from the start," I said, my voice quieter now. "But now, you’re telling me things you never would have before. What’s changed?"

Merhold finally looked at me. His dark eyes locked onto mine. For a moment, there was no guard, no coldness. Just raw honesty.

"My past," he said simply. "It’s not easy to talk about. My family…" He trailed off, his gaze distant, as though he was remembering something painful.

I took a step toward him, hesitant but compelled to understand. "You can trust me, you know. You don’t have to hide everything from me."

Merhold let out a soft breath, running a hand through his hair. "I was part of the Dark Ghost Pack once. My father was the Alpha. But then there was a rebellion.

A fight for power. And I—my mother and I, we had to leave. We ran. We hid from those hunting us down." His voice cracked ever so slightly, but he quickly masked it. "She was still suffering from the disease."

I could feel the weight of his words, the grief that he had carried for so long. "I’m sorry," I whispered, the sympathy in my heart growing stronger. "That must have been hard."

Despite their efforts to be discreet, I could see the way Merhold’s attention would shift the moment they entered the room.

His eyes would flicker away from me, his focus pulled by the latest news they brought, leaving our brief moments of connection to dissolve into the background.

He never seemed to receive the information in time to act—always too late to prevent the tension it brought. And yet, each time he returned to me, I saw it in his eyes: the conflict.

Duty pulled him one way, but his gaze remained on me, filled with unspoken things. But there was no time to explore that. Not now.

The island, which had been unusually quiet all day, suddenly erupted with the blaring sound of a siren just before dinner.

The sharp, jarring wail cut through the silence. The distant sound of helicopter blades sliced through the stillness.

It started faint, growing louder with each passing second, until the unmistakable silhouette of a helicopter appeared over the horizon. Behind it, a battalion of soldiers followed in formation.

Carlos. He had returned, and he hadn’t come alone. He brought his entire battle group with him.