Apocalyse: Marked by Chaos
Chapter 97 - 96 The girl behind the mask

Chapter 97: Chapter 96 The girl behind the mask

Alexa stood up from her bed, her eyes glancing at her changed clothes.

" I never knew that the famous Alexa would be very good at acting," a voice echoed in the room, followed by clapping hands.

Alexa didn’t bother to turn to know who he was, but her body tensed. " Boss, I didn’t know you were coming," Alexa greeted.

" Oh spare the formality," he casually said, before sitting on her bed, crossing his legs. His black hair was sleek back. His sharp chiselled jaws made him look ethereal.

" Should I get you some tea or coffee?" she asked.

" Don’t worry about that."

Silence fell on the room. His sharp eyes scrutinised her. Alexa tried not to fidget under his gaze.

" How did our little secret spread around the school and beyond?" his gaze turned cold.

Alexa’s breath hitched.

" I have investigated it, boss. Someone bought the secret from the underground world. But we have been able to find the buyer’s identity," the last part came out in a whisper.

The man stared at her so hard, that her legs threatened to buckle beneath her.

" But we have gotten a lead on the seller. Once we get hold of him, then we will be able to find who the buyer is," she said, with her heart on her mouth.

" Okay, now you are talking." he stood and walked closer to her. " inform me as soon as you find out about their identity."

" Yes boss," Alexa said, with a small bow.

The man held her jaws, tilting it up slightly so their eyes would meet. " On second thought, I would like some juice." before Alexa could understand what he meant by it, his lips had already captured hers.

Alexa moaned between the kisses. His hand began to stripe off her clothes, he kissed her neck down to her chest.

Her mind blurred from the tinglish sensation.

Her hands curled into the sheets beside her as his fingers explored her skin, peeling away layers like she was nothing more than a costume to be unwrapped. But her mind... her mind was elsewhere.

Don’t flinch, she told herself. This is the price.

The warmth of his mouth trailed down her collarbone, across the hollow of her throat. Every brush of his lips made her skin erupt in tingles, not from desire—but memory. The first time he’d done this, she had cried in silence. Now she’d grown numb enough to call it routine.

He groaned softly, whispering her name like a prayer he didn’t mean.

Alexa shut her eyes, as she let him take what he wants.

It was easier that way—easier to pretend this intimacy meant something. That she wasn’t a tool. That this man hadn’t handpicked her out of the rubble of a ruined team, branded her with promises, and tied her to his leash under the illusion of salvation.

His fingers tangled in her hair, dragging her closer.

"You’re trembling," he murmured. A smirk tugging on his lips, as his eyes danced with knowing glints.

Because I’m still human, she wanted to scream. Because even dolls have a breaking point.

But she didn’t say anything.

Instead, she kissed him back, like it was her choice.

She had mastered this dance: give enough to satisfy, never enough to be seen. She tilted her head, let his lips devour hers again, let her body follow his rhythm until the world faded into heat and silence and the sickening sound of her heartbeat thudding in her ears.

But the worst part wasn’t the touch.

It was how part of her still wanted to believe it mattered. That maybe, just maybe, he saw her as more than a puppet.

And as his hands gripped her tighter, dragging her into him, Alexa blinked through the tears building in her lashes, and imagined for one second—just one—that this wasn’t survival. That this was love.

Even though she knew it never would be.

The sheets clung to her skin, damp with sweat and the weight of everything left unspoken.

He was already gone—just like always. No goodbye. No glance. Just the echo of the door clicking shut behind him and the faint scent of his cologne lingering in the air like a warning.

Alexa stared at the ceiling.

Her body ached—not from pain, but from exhaustion. The kind that clung to the soul. The kind that made her forget where the act ended and she began.

She shifted slowly, the silk sheet sliding off her shoulder. Her fingers brushed her lips, now faintly bruised. She hated that she had memorized the taste of him. Hated that she could still feel the imprint of his hands on her body... and worse, that a part of her had learned how to crave it just to feel something.

The silence in the room was loud.

Alexa sat up, drawing her knees to her chest. Her arms wrapped around them as if holding herself would keep the pieces together. But it was hard to tell what’s real anymore.

The mask she wore had become her second skin.

She thought of Olivia again—of the way she’d looked at her, raw and unsure but present. It was terrifying how comforting that brief moment had been. Like someone finally saw the person buried beneath all the commands, all the expectations... all the scars.

A bitter laugh escaped her throat.

She was never allowed to be soft. Not in this world. Not under him.

She reached for her robe and slipped it on, walking to the mirror.

The girl who stared back looked nothing like the warrior they all whispered about in the halls. Her icy reputation. Her perfect sword form. Her rumored coldness.

She looked like a girl trying not to fall apart.

Alexa raised a trembling hand and touched her reflection, as if hoping the glass would show her something different. Something real.

"I hate this," she whispered. "I hate this version of me."

She turned away before the tears could fall. There was no space for weakness.

But as she curled up on the corner of her bed, knees tucked in and breath shallow, a small part of her wished Olivia would come back.

Not as a savior. But just... as someone who would sit with her in the quiet, and not ask her to be anyone else.