บท 41: Chapter 41: Promise, Me...
The bunker was cold. Sterile, lifeless—a far cry from the chaos of Pandora's surface or the vibrant energy of battle that Alexander was used to. This place, hidden deep within the ground, was meant to be safe, a haven from the storms that raged outside. And yet, despite the silence, something about it felt off. Almost too quiet.
He stood at the edge of Angel's bed, arms crossed, his iron face mask covering the sharp edges of his expression. His long hair draped over his shoulders, swaying slightly as he tilted his head down to look at her. The machines around her beeped in a rhythm, keeping her alive, keeping her sedated. Her chest rose and fell slowly, as if her body was resisting the very idea of rest.
Angel had been in this state for months—trapped in a coma, her consciousness coming and going in brief, painful moments. Every time she surfaced, it brought her nothing but agony, and every time, she was pulled back into the depths of her slumber before she could even cry out. Alexander had watched it all, his cold, calculating mind assessing every possible solution. But in the end, he could only wait.
She would wake up when she was ready.
And today, something felt different.
Her body had been shuddering less frequently these past few days, her breathing more steady. Whatever demons she had been fighting in her mind, it seemed she was winning. Slowly, but surely, Angel was clawing her way back to the world of the living.
His hand hovered over her forehead for a moment, before he rested it gently against her skin. Her temperature was normal—no fever, no sign of distress. Just… peace. For now.
He exhaled softly, turning his attention to the monitor beside her. Her vitals were stable, but that could change at any moment. He had seen it before. Her body might have been recovering, but her mind was still a battlefield.
*"Have you ensured that all traces have been removed?"* Alexander's voice was low, but his question held a sharp edge of command.
Dr. Zed, standing awkwardly a few steps behind him, shifted on his feet. He was always uneasy around Alexander, despite his many reassurances. "Uh, no problemo, sir. We haven't gotten an issue. I've been assisting her myself."
Alexander glanced back at the doctor, his expression unreadable behind his mask. "Good."
He turned his attention back to Angel, his hand brushing lightly over her hair before he straightened up and left the room, his footsteps echoing down the narrow corridor of the bunker.
Outside, the world continued on. Felicity, the global A.I. that controlled his systems, monitored everything from the smallest digital signal to the vast corporate networks that he had infiltrated. She was efficient—cold, but efficient. A perfect tool in Alexander's grand design.
As he stepped into the main operations room, her voice filtered through the speakers, soft but filled with curiosity. "I've finished construction, sir. I do say, I find your fondness over this particular... individual interesting."
Alexander didn't respond. He didn't need to. Felicity's observation was as astute as ever, but he wasn't here to explain himself. Not to an A.I.
He made his way to the command center, his mind already drifting to other matters—UAT's expansion, the corporate arms race, Vladoff's reckless aggression. But something lingered in his thoughts, something that pulled his attention back to the bunker where Angel lay. Despite everything else going on, her presence in his life remained a constant, nagging thought at the back of his mind.
And then, just as he was about to dismiss it, Felicity's voice chimed again, more insistent this time.
"Sir. She's waking up."
Alexander froze.
---
Angel's eyelids fluttered weakly as the world around her began to materialize. She could feel the weight of her own body pressing against the bed, the soft hum of the machines that had kept her alive, the dull ache that seemed to settle in her bones.
For a moment, she panicked. Where was she? Was this another nightmare? Another figment of her mind's cruel tricks?
But no, this was real. The pain was real. The light filtering through her closed eyelids was real.
She groaned softly, trying to lift her hand, but it felt heavy, as if she had forgotten how to move. Every muscle in her body screamed in protest, but she willed herself to open her eyes, just a little.
The first thing she saw was the ceiling—cold, grey, unfamiliar. The second was Alexander.
He stood at the foot of her bed, arms crossed, watching her intently. His mask covered most of his face, but she could feel the weight of his gaze. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence stretching between them.
"Alexander…" Angel's voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper. "I…"
"Don't talk." His voice was calm, but firm. "You're not strong enough yet."
She tried to protest, her lips trembling as she struggled to form words. But she could feel the exhaustion pulling her back down, the weight of her own body too much to bear. She closed her eyes again, but this time, it wasn't because she was fading. It was because she knew he was right.
But even in the darkness, the emotions were overwhelming. Relief. Fear. Confusion. She had been trapped for so long, drifting in and out of consciousness, her mind a battlefield of fragmented memories and broken dreams. And now, she was free—free, but still so fragile.
Tears welled in her eyes, and though she didn't know why, she couldn't stop them. She hadn't cried in so long, not since she had been… different. Before the sedation, before the coma, she had always been strong, always in control. But now, as she lay there, vulnerable and weak, the tears flowed freely.
Alexander, stoic as ever, watched her without a word. He didn't reach out to comfort her, didn't offer any kind of reassurance. But there was something in the way he stood—silent, but present—that told her he wasn't indifferent.
"I… I thought I was going to die," she whispered, her voice shaking.
"You didn't."
The simplicity of his response almost made her laugh, if she weren't so exhausted. Of course, that was his answer. No sugar-coating, no empty platitudes. Just the facts.
Her eyes fluttered open again, this time more steadily, and she looked up at him, her vision still a little blurry. "Did you… wait for me?"
Alexander didn't respond immediately. His silence said more than words ever could.
Angel's lips trembled into a weak smile. "You did."
For the first time, Alexander's stance seemed to shift, ever so slightly. "You made a promise."
The memory of that promise came flooding back—an offhand remark, a joke between them before everything had gone to hell. A date, she had promised him. A small moment of normalcy in the middle of chaos. And now, against all odds, she had survived. They had survived.
Angel's smile widened, though her tears still fell. "I did, didn't I?"
---
It didn't take long for Angel to regain enough strength to stand on her own two feet, though Alexander insisted on helping her walk. The medics had cleared her for limited activity, and despite her protests, Alexander wouldn't hear of her going anywhere without supervision. He may have appeared indifferent, but his actions spoke volumes.
When they arrived at Wam Bam Island, the sight of the beach nearly took Angel's breath away. The sun was warm against her skin, the sand soft beneath her feet, and the sound of the waves crashing gently against the shore was like music to her ears. For so long, she had been trapped in a sterile, lifeless room, her world confined to the four walls of the bunker. But here… here, everything was alive.
Angel stepped forward, her bare feet sinking into the sand, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, she let herself breathe.
The ocean called to her, and she moved toward it, her steps slow and deliberate, savoring every sensation. When the cool water touched her toes, she gasped softly, tears springing to her eyes once more.
"I forgot…" she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I forgot what it felt like…"
Behind her, Alexander watched in silence, his arms crossed as always. He made no move to join her, but his presence was a steady anchor, grounding her as she reconnected with the world.
Angel knelt down at the water's edge, her fingers trailing through the surf. She closed her eyes, letting the tears fall freely as she reveled in the simple joy of being alive.
When she turned back to Alexander, he was still watching her, his expression unreadable behind his mask. She smiled at him, her heart swelling with gratitude. "Thank you," she said softly. "For bringing me here."
Alexander didn't respond, but he didn't need to. The fact that he had taken the time to fulfill her promise, to bring her to this place, said more than any words ever could.
They spent the rest of the afternoon in quiet companionship. Angel rested her head against Alexander's
shoulder as they watched the sun dip below the horizon, the sky painted in shades of orange and pink. It was peaceful, and for the first time in a long time, Angel felt truly at ease.
But as the day came to an end, and the night began to settle in, a sense of unease gnawed at the back of Angel's mind. She had been given a reprieve, a moment of peace, but she knew it wouldn't last. There were still battles to be fought, still dangers lurking in the shadows.
As if sensing her thoughts, Alexander spoke, his voice low and steady. "We'll go back soon."
Angel nodded, though a part of her wished they could stay here forever, away from the chaos and the violence. But she knew that wasn't possible.
"Alexander…" she said softly, her voice barely more than a whisper.
He turned to look at her, his gaze piercing through the darkness. "What is it?"
She hesitated, her heart racing in her chest. There was so much she wanted to say, so much she needed to express. But the words wouldn't come.
Instead, she simply reached out and took his hand, squeezing it gently.
For a moment, Alexander didn't move. He stared down at their joined hands, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he squeezed back.
It wasn't much, but it was enough. For now.
---
As the sun dipped lower on the horizon, casting long shadows across Wam Bam Island, the air between Alexander and Angel hung heavy with the promise of something more. The quiet moments they had shared seemed fragile, like the calm before an inevitable storm.
Angel, now lying in the crook of Alexander's arm, let the waves gently lap at her toes. The touch of the water, the softness of the sand beneath her, and the warmth of the fading sun filled her with a strange and overwhelming sense of peace—something she hadn't known for what felt like a lifetime. Her heart felt lighter, freer, as though this place had wiped away the burdens she'd carried for so long.
She tilted her head, gazing up at Alexander. He was quiet, as he so often was, his piercing eyes fixed on the ocean ahead. But she could tell his mind was elsewhere, always turning, always calculating. She reached out, hesitating for a moment, before placing her hand on his mask. He didn't flinch or pull away, his silence almost an invitation. Slowly, she lifted it off, revealing the face beneath.
For a moment, Angel's breath caught in her throat. She had expected something harsh—perhaps a face worn by war, marked by cruelty. But what she saw stunned her. His features were striking, almost aristocratic in their sharpness, yet his hollow, irisless eyes betrayed a depth that she hadn't expected. There was something unsettling and beautiful about him all at once, and it left her momentarily speechless.
Alexander met her gaze, his expression calm, unbothered by her scrutiny. He wasn't one for vanity, but there was something in his eyes—an acknowledgment of her reaction, though he said nothing.
"You're… not what I expected," Angel said softly, her fingers lightly brushing against his cheek.
Alexander arched a brow, a flicker of amusement crossing his face. "You say that like I've been hiding."
Angel smiled, shaking her head. "You hide in your own way. Behind power. Behind walls no one can break."
Alexander didn't respond immediately. Instead, he turned his gaze back to the horizon, as if contemplating her words. Angel could sense there was more beneath his surface, something she was only beginning to unravel. She let the silence stretch, comfortable now in the shared quiet between them.
After a long moment, she spoke again, this time more serious. "What do you want, Alexander? I mean really. What's the future you see for yourself?"
He didn't turn to face her, but his voice was steady, unwavering. "The universe."
Angel blinked, taken aback by the bluntness of his answer. "The universe?" she echoed, unsure whether to laugh or be concerned.
He finally looked at her, and the intensity in his hollow eyes left no room for doubt. "The corporations… they run everything. They feed on human suffering, exploit the weak. I plan to change that. But not with mercy."
Angel frowned slightly, considering his words. "You want to rule?"
"Yes." His answer was simple, final.
Angel fell silent again, processing. She wasn't surprised—everything about him exuded power, control, the need to dominate. But hearing him say it so plainly left her feeling both intrigued and wary. He wasn't like others who craved power for its own sake. Alexander had a vision, a purpose. And that purpose was terrifying in its clarity.
"Doesn't that concern you?" she asked, her voice softer now. "That kind of power… it can change people."
Alexander's gaze remained steady. "That's why I have you."
Angel's heart skipped at his words. "Me?"
"You'll be my control," he said bluntly, his eyes locking onto hers. "To stop me from going too far."
She blinked, caught off guard by his acknowledgment of her influence. "And you're okay with that?"
Alexander's lips twitched into the faintest of smiles, a rare show of emotion. "You're the only one I trust with that."
Angel felt a warmth spread through her chest, a feeling of understanding between them that hadn't been there before. She could see the depth of his ambition, the darkness that came with it, but she also saw the part of him that still sought something more. Something human.
She rested her head against his chest again, her hand lightly trailing over his bare skin. "You know… I'm going to hold you to that."
Alexander chuckled softly, his hand resting on her back. "I don't doubt it."
They stayed like that for a while, the soft rhythm of the ocean filling the silence between them. Angel's mind wandered to everything they had endured, and the strange future that now lay ahead. She knew it wouldn't be easy—nothing with Alexander ever was—but in that moment, she felt like they could face anything.
Eventually, she broke the silence again, her tone playful. "You know, there's still one thing we haven't talked about."
Alexander glanced down at her, eyebrow raised. "What now?"
She grinned, her heart pounding with a mix of boldness and nervousness. "Marriage."
For a split second, Alexander's calm, composed expression faltered. He stared at her, clearly not expecting that word to come from her lips. "Marriage?" he repeated, the word sounding foreign coming from him.
Angel shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "Well, why not? We've faced death together, betrayal, all kinds of insanity. Doesn't it make sense?"
Alexander blinked, his lips parting slightly in disbelief. He stared at her for a moment, as though trying to determine whether she was serious or teasing. "You're not serious."
"Oh, I am," Angel said, her smile widening. "Think about it. You could rule the universe and have a queen by your side."
He shook his head slightly, a faint chuckle escaping his lips. "You never cease to amaze me, Angel."
She laughed, leaning in to kiss him, and this time, Alexander didn't hesitate. He responded with a depth of feeling that surprised even him, pulling her close as if she was the only thing grounding him in that moment. The weight of his ambition, the universe he sought to control, all faded into the background as they shared that kiss.
But the peace of that moment was shattered once again by the chime of his communicator.
Angel pulled back slightly, her eyes searching his face for answers. "What is it?"
Alexander's expression hardened instantly, the mask of power slipping back into place. He glanced at the device on his wrist, and as he read the incoming message, his hand tightened into a fist.
"Igneous has been glassed," he said, his voice cold and devoid of emotion. "Vladoff."
Angel's heart sank, her breath catching in her throat. "Glassed? But… why?"
"They tracked criminals there. And in the process… they killed Xion."
Angel's eyes widened in shock, her hand flying to her mouth. "Xion? But—"
"They dared to take what was mine," Alexander interrupted, his tone so calm it was unnerving. "They think they can destroy my property, kill my people, and get away with it."
Angel could feel the rage building within him, though his voice remained steady, controlled. It wasn't the loss of life that fueled his anger—it was the audacity of Vladoff to cross him, to challenge his authority. They had made a grave mistake, and she knew that Alexander would not rest until they paid for it.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered, reaching out to place a comforting hand on his arm.
Alexander's eyes darkened, his gaze fixed on some distant point as his mind calculated his next move. "They'll regret this."
Angel held him tighter, knowing that there was no stopping what came next. But as she rested her head against his chest, she whispered one more thing into the quiet of the night.
"When I return from Athenas, we'll talk about marriage. And this time, I won't take no for an answer."
Alexander's eyes flickered with something she couldn't quite place—amusement, perhaps, or maybe something deeper. He let out a quiet, almost imperceptible chuckle. "You really are bold, Angel."
But as he held her, his mind already turning back to the war that awaited him, the loss of Igneous and Xion burned in his thoughts.
Soon, Vladoff would learn that no one takes from Alexander and walks away unscathed.
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