Pulse |BLOOD OF MY LOVE|

Chapter VIII

TW: Violence

ALL MY OPTIONS ARE EXHAUSTED AND DEATH SEEMS LESS PAINFUL THAN LIFE.

Grayson walked out of the prison gate, feeling a mix of overwhelming emotions. The heavy iron doors swung shut behind him, and he took a deep breath of the cool, crisp air outside.

The mayor was waiting for him outside, his expression stern but worried. "Grayson, I heard you submitted your resignation letter. Is that because of that girl?" the mayor asked, his words cutting through the silence like a sharp blade.

Grayson's fingers fumbled in his pocket, searching for his car keys as he tried to gather his thoughts. He couldn't bring himself to meet the mayor's gaze, feeling a knot form in the pit of his stomach.

"That's not the only reason," Grayson mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't think I have what it takes to be a cop anymore, especially not the chief."

The mayor's hand suddenly grasped Grayson's arm, stopping him in his tracks as he made a move towards his car. There was a sense of urgency in the mayor's touch, a silent plea for Grayson to listen.

"Your grandfather..." the mayor began, his voice trailing off as if hesitant to continue. Grayson felt a pang of unease at the mention of his grandfather. The old man had always been a looming figure in his life, casting a long shadow over his decisions.

"Your grandfather called me. He asked me how you were doing. He said he would help you, if you wanted. But..." the mayor's voice was tinged with uncertainty, as if unsure how to broach the delicate subject.

Grayson let out a bitter chuckle, a humorless sound that echoed in the empty space between them. He knew what was coming next, could predict the words before they even left the mayor's lips.

"But he wants me to go back to Syldavia and take over the position as the General Commander and Duke of Elipse. Am I right?" Grayson finished the mayor's sentence, his tone resigned.

As he stared up at the fiery sky above, a sense of déjà vu washed over him. The colors of the sunset mirrored the turmoil in his heart, a vivid reminder of the choices that lay ahead.

The mayor's grip on his arm tightened, a silent command for Grayson to consider his options carefully. Grayson looked up, head hanging low. He led out a hysterical laugh and thought.

Opportunist Royal Bastards.

Grayson knew he stood at a crossroads, with two paths stretching out before him. Saving Isla by giving up himself. Saving himself by giving up Isla.

Taking a deep breath, Grayson turned, meeting the mayor's gaze head-on.

"Tell him I'll consider it." Grayson said, "But if I'm able to handle it myself, take it as my no."

With a nod of understanding, the mayor released his grip on Grayson's hand, but he was stunned. He had been trying to persuade Grayson to return to his homeland for years, but Grayson had always refused. Now, for the first time, he seemed to consider it. What had changed?

Grayson didn't wait for any small talks. He got into his car and drove away, leaving the mayor behind. On the passenger seat, a bunch of roses lay wilted, a symbol of his broken love. He felt nothing.

✯☾ ........................................................ ☽✯

Isla walked into the dining hall, clutching her tray of bland food. The smell of grease and stale bread filled the air, making her stomach churn. She scanned the room for an empty seat, avoiding eye contact with the other inmates. She knew she was not welcome here. She was the 'new' girl.