RACHEL
He left.
That sick, manipulative liar left.
He left the team. Deserted the war.
He left me.
The rage surges up, a wildfire inside me, but it can't burn away the hollow ache that's spreading through me, a dark emptiness that gnaws at my insides. It's not just anger. It's shame. It's disgust. At him. At me.
How the hell did I not see it? How did I let him twist me up like this, turn me into someone I barely recognize? I was supposed to be better than this. Stronger. Smarter. But he said all the right things, and I fell for every single one of them.
And Marco—God, Marco.
He's always been there, hasn't he? Solid, dependable Marco. The guy who always knows when to crack a joke to make me smile, the one who's never forgotten that I'm more than just a soldier in this war. More than just a fighter. He's kind in ways he tries to hide, like he's afraid of anyone seeing that side of him. But I've seen it. I've felt it.
And I turned away from him.
For David.
Marco was real. Genuine. He didn't need to tell me I was strong because he already knew I was, and he trusted me to know it too. But David? David told me what I wanted to hear. Whispered things that made me feel seen, important, needed. And I ate it up. I let myself get caught in his web, let him use me because I craved that feeling so badly.
And now I've hurt Marco.
I saw it in his eyes, right before I walked away. The anger, the frustration—but underneath it all, the hurt. The confusion. I shoved him away when all he was trying to do was pull me back. And for what? For someone who was always going to leave, who never cared about me beyond what I could do for him?
The guilt twists in my gut, sharp and relentless. Marco didn't deserve that. He didn't deserve to be the one I lashed out at, the one I pushed away when he was trying to help. But I couldn't face him, not after everything. Not after he saw how far I'd fallen.
And now? Now I don't even know if I can fix it.
But maybe I can fix me.
Because this version of me—the one who let herself be fooled, who hurt the people who matter most—she dies here.
I'm done being weak. I'm done letting someone else dictate who I am.
David might have seen my cracks, but he didn't break me. Not completely. I still have a choice. I can let this guilt, this shame, crush me—or I can use it. Learn from it. Be better.
I deserve better. Not because someone else says so, but because I say so.
And I'll make damn sure no one ever uses me like that again.