CHAPTER 161: THE CHOICE

Are you really willing to do ANYTHING for power?

Images flashed through his mind in rapid succession... unbidden, unwanted, undeniable:

Marcus. That smirk. The one he wore when they cornered him. When Alex’s world shattered into a thousand pieces and Marcus just... laughed.

The humiliation. The destruction. The complete and utter powerlessness of watching someone use you, break you, and walk away without consequence.

"You were so easy," Marcus had said. "Did you really think someone like Sophia would want you?"

The memory was a knife, still sharp after all this time.

And here he was... standing in David’s bedroom, kissing David’s wife, using Linda’s manipulated feelings for his own survival...

Becoming exactly what Marcus had been.

A user. A manipulator. Someone who took what he wanted and called it necessary.

Different circumstances. Different excuses.

Same poison.

You really are willing to do anything for power, aren’t you?

The question wasn’t rhetorical anymore. It was an accusation. A mirror held up to show him exactly what he’d become.

Lilith promised you strength and you sold your soul.

She promised you revenge on Marcus and you became him.

She promised you’d never be powerless again and you gave up the only power that actually matters...

The power to choose who you are.

The truth of it shattered something inside him.

He’d thought he was being strategic.

Practical. Making hard choices for survival.

But he wasn’t surviving.

He was surrendering.

Surrendering every value, every principle, every part of himself that made him worth being powerful in the first place.

What’s the point of having power if you hate who you have to become to keep it?

What’s the point of revenge if you turn into the monster you’re trying to punish?

What’s the point of never being powerless if you’re too corrupted to use that power for anything good?

The questions piled up, relentless and unanswerable.

And underneath them all, one final, crushing realization:

You can’t do this.

Not because it was wrong... though it was.

Not because it would hurt people... though it would.

But because he couldn’t live with himself after.

Couldn’t look Danny in the eye knowing what he’d done with his mother.

Couldn’t stand at Nina’s bedside and pretend to be the hero who saved her while knowing he’d destroyed her family.

Couldn’t face David and shake his hand and accept his trust while carrying this betrayal.

Couldn’t look in the mirror and see anything but Marcus staring back.

You can’t do this.

You CAN’T do this.

If you do this, you’re gone. The person you were, the person you wanted to be... GONE.

And what’s left won’t be worth the power you kept.

No.

The word detonated in his mind like a bomb.

Not a question. Not a hesitation.

A decision.

Absolute. Final. Irreversible.

NO.

Alex broke away.

Not gently. Not with explanation or apology.

Ripped himself backward with desperate, panicked force... hands coming up to push against her shoulders, creating distance, separation, space to breathe.

He stumbled back two steps, gasping like he’d been drowning, his chest heaving with the effort of finally, finally breaking free.

Linda stood frozen where he’d left her.

Eyes wide. Lips still parted, swollen from his kiss. Hands suspended in the air where they’d been holding him.

Confusion flooded her features first... raw and uncomprehending.

What happened?

He could see the question forming, see her mind racing to understand why he’d stopped, what she’d done wrong, whether this was rejection or just hesitation.

Then hurt began creeping in.

Slow at first. A flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. The beginning of understanding that something had gone terribly wrong.

"Alex?" Her voice was small, uncertain, fragile. "What... what’s wrong?"

He couldn’t answer.

Couldn’t form words beyond the chaos screaming in his head, the guilt crushing his chest, the desperate, overwhelming need to get out get out GET OUT.

His hand flew up... half placating gesture, half warding off... and his breathing came in ragged gasps that sounded almost like sobs.

"I need..." His voice came out strangled, barely recognizable as his own. "Bathroom. I need to use the bathroom."

The excuse was transparent. Pathetic. Obvious.

But it was all his panicking mind could produce... some escape route, any reason to move, to create distance, to not be in this room with her for one more second.

"Alex, wait..." Linda’s voice held confusion now, concern creeping in, the beginning of hurt starting to dawn. "Did I do something wrong? Please, just talk to..."

But he was already moving.

Not walking.

Running.

Past her, past the bed... David’s bed, their bed... past the photos on the dresser and the watch on the nightstand and the entire life he’d been about to destroy...

His feet carried him with desperate, animal speed into the hallway, toward any door that wasn’t that bedroom, any space that didn’t have her in it.

"I’m sorry," he choked out as he fled...

To her. To David. To Danny. To Nina. To himself.

To whoever the fuck he used to be before Lilith and power and the slow corruption of his soul.

Then he was through the bathroom door, slamming it shut behind him with enough force to rattle the frame.

His shaking hands found the lock and turned it.

Click.

The sound was final. Absolute. The closing of a door on more than just a room.

And Alex slid down to sit on the bathroom floor, his back pressed against the door, and buried his face in his hands.

His breathing came in gasps—harsh, ragged, the sound of someone who’d narrowly escaped drowning.

His entire body was shaking.

His hands. His legs. Even his jaw trembled as he pressed his palms against his eyes hard enough to see stars.

What the fuck.

What the fuck.

What the FUCK.

The countdown pulsed at the edge of his vision, relentless and cold:

[4 hours, 20 minutes remaining.]

Four hours until everything he’d built collapsed.

Four hours until he lost the power, the enhancements, the strength that made him more than what Marcus had left him.

Four hours until he was nothing again.

But sitting here on the bathroom floor, the taste of Linda’s kiss still on his lips and the echo of his own desperate escape still ringing in his ears...

The countdown felt meaningless.

Because something had broken in those few moments.

Not his resolve. Not his determination.

His belief that he could actually go through with it.

His belief that power was worth this price.

His belief that he was somehow different from Marcus, better than Marcus, justified in his compromises.

You’re not different.

The truth settled over him like ash, heavy and inescapable.

You were ready to do exactly what he did. Use someone. Hurt people. Justify it as necessary.

The only difference is you stopped.

Barely. At the last possible second.

But you stopped.

The relief should have been overwhelming.

Instead, all he felt was shame.

Shame that he’d even considered it.

Shame that he’d walked into that house knowing what Linda expected.

Shame that he’d rationalized it so completely he’d actually believed his own bullshit.

Shame that it took feeling her lips on his... feeling the wrongness in his bones... to realize what he was becoming.

What does that say about you?

That you needed to get that far before your conscience kicked in?

His hands pressed harder against his face, as if he could hide from his own thoughts.