Chapter 93- A Ghost From The Past

Once again, I was trapped—locked away behind unyielding prison walls, my body aching, my spirit weighed down with the suffocating weight of abandonment. The ones I trusted had forsaken me, left me vulnerable, and now, I was at the mercy of my enemies.  

Valia’s plan had worked seamlessly. She had played her part masterfully, planting seeds of doubt in Damon’s mind until he had done exactly what she wanted—casting me out, leaving me defenseless. I had walked right into her trap, blindly believing her promises, and now I was paying the price.  

Part of me wanted to blame Damon for falling for her lies. Another part of me was disgusted with myself for doing the same.  

It was true—when the people you love are used against you, reason fades. Emotion takes over, clouding judgment, weakening resolve.  

How could I have been so foolish? How could I have believed she would bring Baby Damon?  

I leaned back against the cold stone, the weight of everything pressing in on me. Then, footsteps echoed from the corridor beyond my cell.  

Who was it this time?  

Tessa, eager to torment me with updates on her wicked scheme?  

Valia, ready to twist the knife deeper, to mock my predicament?  

Or Maria, her face streaked with guilt, her voice trembling as she begged for my forgiveness?  

The thought of her sickened me.  

Wasn’t she the one who once urged me to keep my son close?  

Perhaps she had meant herself all along.  

I thought back to all those nights she spent alone in his nursery, holding him, soothing him. Was she washing away her guilt in his presence, trying to convince herself that she wasn’t the villain?  

I shuddered at the thought.  

I didn’t bother lifting my head. Fatigue had wrapped itself around me completely, draining me until even moving was a challenge. I let my chin rest against my chest, willing myself into silence.  

Then, I heard him.  

“Ana.”  

Everything inside me froze.  

There were few people who called me that.  

Even fewer who spoke with a voice wrapped in warmth, familiarity, and kindness.  

I knew only one person who fit both.  

Evan.  

My breath hitched as I forced my gaze upward.  

And there he was.  

For several agonizing moments, I simply stared, waiting for the illusion to dissolve, for my eyes to betray me.  

But they didn’t.  

The scar on his neck remained—stark and jagged, demanding my attention. His skin was pale, translucent, veins weaving beneath the surface like fragile threads. His pupils were tainted—streaked with crimson—and when his lips parted, I caught the sharp glint of fangs.  

“You’re alive…” My voice barely rose above a whisper.  

Evan held my gaze, studying me carefully.  

“Tessa found me,” he admitted. “Days later, in Akbur Hills. I was still breathing. She… shifted me.”  

I swallowed hard.  

It was his voice. His face. His familiar presence.  

And yet—he was different.  

“When I left you, you were dead.”  

“I was close,” he conceded. “There was nothing that could have saved me… as a human.”  

“No. You were dead. You weren’t breathing. I—I thought they took your body.”  

“Damon’s van came for you right after the Emantors finished their slaughter. You didn’t stay to see what happened next. Our bodies lay there for days.”  

A fresh wave of grief crashed over me, spilling down my cheeks.  

He was right.  

I had never asked what had happened. I had never dared to. The pain had been too immense, too suffocating.  

I had simply assumed Evan had been buried—that his body had been laid to rest alongside all the others who had died because of me.  

“I can’t help you,” I whispered, shaking my head. “Damon will never agree to this. He would never trade humanity for my life.”  

Evan knelt, closing the space between us.  

“I would never hurt you,” he murmured. “I’m not like Tessa. Not all vampires are evil. Some of us just want to survive.”  

His hand reached out, tilting my chin upward, forcing me to meet his gaze.  

The gesture was painfully familiar.  

Except now—his fingers were colder.  

He ran his thumb against my cheek, catching the remnants of my tears.  

“It hurt to see you with him,” he admitted. “It should have been me.”  

My heart clenched.  

“It still can be,” he continued, his voice growing more desperate, more insistent. “You just have to believe it. With Damon gone, we can finally be together. I’ll protect you. I’ll keep you safe from the others, from the army—”  

I stiffened.  

“Army?” I repeated. “What army?”  

Evan hesitated, then exhaled slowly.  

“We need more of us,” he finally said. “Tessa and I can’t be the only ones…”  

Horror twisted inside me.  

I pulled away slightly, searching his expression.  

“Aren’t you happy to see me?” he asked softly. “Aren’t you happy I survived?”  

I swallowed back the lump in my throat, forcing myself to say the truth.  

“No.”  

His expression flickered, the ghost of pain passing through his features.  

“You’re not Evan anymore.”  

“I am,” he insisted. “I’m still me. Just… different.”  

I looked into his eyes, and something unfamiliar gleamed back at me.  

Desperation.  

A silent plea for belief—for acceptance.  

He wanted me to say it.  

To nod. To trust him.  

Even as he didn’t fully trust himself.  

“Damon keeps hurting you,” he murmured. “Sending you away, breaking you apart. I would never do that.”  

A sharp sound suddenly echoed through the space above.  

A thud.  

Evan and I turned, waiting.  

Then—another thud.  

A scream.  

Evan straightened immediately.  

“I have to go,” he muttered, rising to his feet.  

“You’re leaving?” I shot up as much as my restraints allowed, my voice rising over the chaos. “You’re not going to let me out?”  

Evan paused.  

“I’ll be back,” he said, leaning down just enough to press a kiss to the top of my head.  

I froze.  

“I promise.”  

“No—Evan!” I shouted as he turned, disappearing into the shadows.  

My voice rang through the chamber.  

“EVAN!”  

But he was gone.