THE EXILED WARLORD

Chapter 5: Ashes and Whispers

"He was there. I saw the footage myself," Adrian muttered as he crouched over a set of dusty files spread across the table in the abandoned outpost.

"And he wasn’t alone," Kellan, his trusted informant, replied from the shadows.

 "That general. The one who testified against you General Damas. He was on the payroll. Marcus signed it himself."

Adrian's eyes, cold and sharp, scanned the papers with precision. 

He held up a forged mission log, the seal still warm from tampering. It said he had ordered troops to cross borders illegally. But he had never seen the document before.

"This wasn’t just a betrayal" Adrian whispered. "This was a masterpiece of deception."

He traced the digital signature encrypted and cloaked to mimic his own. 

Whoever did this had military clearance, tech level skills and a vendetta deep enough to rewrite his life.

Suddenly, a metal door creaked.

Adrian didn't flinch.

A heavy footstep echoed in the hall. Then another. Adrian slipped behind the door, silent.

The shadow entered, tall and armed.

General Damas.

"You shouldn't be here," the general growled, raising his pistol.

Adrian lunged.

The gun fired missed.

Adrian slammed Damas to the ground with a precise sweep of his leg, grabbed the gun and pointed it right at the man’s trembling head.

"Still think I’m dead?" Adrian hissed.

"You... you were supposed to rot in Blackstone!" Damas spat.

"Yeah? Looks like death missed a spot."

He kicked a chair behind the general, forced him to sit.

"You’re going to tell me everything, old man."

Damas groaned, bleeding from his temple. "You have no idea what you’re up against."

Adrian slammed his fist on the table. "Start talking. Or I start cutting."

The general coughed, then laughed bitterly. "It was Marcus. And Evelyn. She said you were... unstable. That you talked in your sleep, had violent nightmares. That she feared for her life."

Adrian froze.

His grip loosened.

"What did you just say?"

"She confirmed it. Said she overheard you plotting treason in your sleep. That you had dreams of overthrowing the council. She played the frightened lover."

Adrian took a step back. The words felt like a dagger.

"Evelyn... why?" he whispered to the air, to the gods, to himself.

His body trembled.

"I gave you everything," he muttered. "My blood. My loyalty. My name."

His hands curled into fists.

"And you... You painted me mad?"

Damas chuckled weakly. "She played her part well. Wanted to marry up. She made it happen."

Adrian let out a hollow laugh, one full of rage.

"No... they must've forced her. They had something on her. They threatened her."

He stood, looking at the broken mirror on the wall. His own reflection stared back scarred, colder than ever.

"Right?"

Damas said nothing.

Adrian turned, slammed the hilt of his knife into the general’s jaw, knocking him out cold.

He breathed in.

Then out.

"If she wanted to leave me, she could've said so. But this..."

He kicked the table over.

"She destroyed me."

An hour later, Adrian stood in a high tower, overlooking the city. Lights flickered below. He focused on one.

A massive party hall.

He zoomed in with stolen surveillance gear.

There she was.

Evelyn.

Dressed in a glittering silver gown, hair curled like she was born royalty.

Beside her, a handsome man in a white suit: Damien Vale, heir to Vale Holdings.

They laughed. Evelyn leaned in, whispered something in Damien’s ear. He kissed her cheek.

Adrian's heart shattered all over again.

"You snake" he growled.

He threw the monitor aside.

"All this time... you were aiming higher."

He paced.

"I was your stepping stone. Just a broken ladder rung on your climb to riches."

His fists clenched.

"You kissed me while planning my death. Slept beside me while dreaming of gold."

He turned to Kellan.

"Get the car."

"Sir?"

"We’re paying them a visit. I want him to feel fear. And I want her to remember what she lost."

Adrian stormed into Damien Vale’s private club that night like a ghost from the grave.

He didn’t speak.

Just moved.

Three guards lunged. In seconds, they were on the floor.

Damien stood, confused.

Adrian grabbed a champagne bottle and shattered it across his shoulder.

"What the hell " Damien gasped.

Adrian slammed him against the wall.

"Tell her I’m back," he snarled. "Tell her The Ghost isn’t dead."

He left Damien bleeding.

By morning, whispers flooded the barracks.

"He’s alive."

"The Ghost walks again."

"Blackstone didn’t kill him."

In Evelyn's lavish dressing room, her makeup artist handed her a black envelope.

No name. No seal.

Just two words written in thick, angry strokes:

You lied.

She stared at it.

Her smile faded.

"Adrian..."

Behind her, Damien limped into the room, blood crusting his lip.

"What the hell kind of ex did you have?"

Evelyn’s hands trembled.

She dropped the letter.

And whispered, "He’s back."