The Traitor's Pulse.
953 Words
(Cassandra’s POV)
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Ashes in My Mouth
They called it a revolution.
But for me… it was a funeral.
A slow burning procession where I buried the version of me that once believed in hope.
After Arven’s broadcasted humiliation, chaos became language.
Ministry agents fled their safe zones.
Civilians painted walls with names of the dead.
Some used blood. Others used fire.
I smiled for the first time in weeks when the city howled.
But I wasn’t done.
Because Ezekiel Crane was still breathing.
And my heart hadn’t decided if it wanted to kiss him…
or carve a bullet through it.
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A Ghost with My Face
We met again in Sector 12.
A ruined museum district, now swallowed by soot and spray-paint rage.
He wore the old uniform. Black coat. Ministry pin.
But it was untidy.
Like it didn’t fit anymore.
I stepped from the shadows, gun holstered, hair soaked in sweat and rebellion.
He didn’t flinch.
“Cassandra.”
His voice hadn’t changed. It still sounded like starlight poisoned with smoke.
“Ezekiel,” I whispered, stepping into the pale moonlight.
“I killed Hadrek.”
“I ruined Arven.”
“I wrote their names in my blood.”
He didn’t move.
“I watched,” he said. “Every second.”
“Then why are you still alive?” I asked. “Why haven’t you run?”
He took one step toward me, hands empty, eyes dark.
“Because you weren’t just coming for revenge.”
My fingers twitched.
“I’m coming for your soul.”
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Childhood Bleeds Differently
We didn’t pull weapons.
Not yet.
We walked. Together.
Through the burned-out streets.
Past toppled statues and shattered drone towers.
He told me stories.
I told him lies.
He said he tried to protect me.
I said he tried to own me.
He said they threatened to kill me unless he cooperated.
I said they did kill me the girl I was.
“I watched them burn your house,” he said. “I begged!
“You signed the order,” I snapped.
Silence fell.
The wind carried smoke and screams from other streets.
“I loved you,” he said.
I pulled out the bullet meant for him. Held it between us.
“You still might,” I whispered. “That’s the part that terrifies me.”
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Razorblade Choices
Later that night, in the rebel bunker beneath Sector 5, Dara confronted me.
“You’re hesitating.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. I saw you. You could’ve slit his throat.”
“He wasn’t armed.”
“That never stopped you before.”
I looked away.
“I needed to see if there was anything left inside him.”
“Cassandra,” she said, stepping closer, voice dropping. “This man sold you. You think monsters come with fangs and glowing eyes? No. They come in familiar voices. They kiss your forehead before injecting you with poison.”
I turned toward the wall, fists clenched.
She was right.
But she didn’t see what I saw when I looked at him.
Regret.
A hollow man swimming in a sea of guilt.
And guilt is useful.
---
The Pulse Room
It was a trap.
We knew it. We walked into it anyway.
The Ministry had developed a neural broadcasting system called The Pulse Room a dome that sent pacifying signals into the cortex, turning rebels into glass eyed dolls.
Dara and I led the charge.
Inside, we found rooms of twitching prisoners once brave fighters now drooling, whispering nursery rhymes into the void.
It infuriated me.
Ezekiel was there. Waiting.
But he didn’t raise his weapon.
He held a detonator.
“What are you doing?” I barked.
He stepped forward.
“I’m giving you what you want. Burn it all.”
“What’s the catch?”
“There’s no catch.”
I narrowed my eyes. “There’s always a catch.”
“If you push that button, they’ll die. All of them. The Pulse Room’s tech is fused with their brains.”
I glanced at Dara. Then at the walls, the weeping bodies.
“Why are you doing this?” I asked him.
“Because I’m already dead, Cassandra. You killed me the night you chose vengeance.”
I stepped forward.
“You’re wrong,” I whispered.
Then I grabbed the detonator.
And pressed it.
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Ashes Again
The explosion leveled the dome.
The sound broke the sky.
The bodies inside—the prisoners, the scientists, the sins—were incinerated.
I stood on the edge of the ruins, staring at the embers falling like infected snowflakes.
Dara didn’t speak.
Ezekiel was gone.
Whether he died inside or vanished again I didn’t know.
I hoped he survived, if only so I could kill him properly.
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The Final Broadcast
That night, I hijacked the Ministry’s prime network.
The city froze.
Everyone watched.
And I spoke:
“You’ve watched me kill them one by one. The men and women who sold our lives to power. You cheered when their blood painted your streets. But remember justice doesn’t end with bodies.”
“It ends with transformation.”
“So here I am. The Ash Widow. The girl you tried to silence. The story you tried to erase.”
“And I’m not done.”
I stepped closer to the camera, face bathed in red.
“Minister Halden. Chancellor Roque. Overseer Finn. Your time is now borrowed.”
“And to the one who still thinks he loves men Ezekiel… run if you want. I’ll find you.”
“Because I don’t just carry the names of the dead anymore.”
“I carry their pulse.”
- Writer
