Chapter 27: Lunar Fracture
I flew into space like a man possessed—violet aura blazing hotter than a star's core, a comet trail of ionized plasma scorching the void behind me. The satellites nearest my path melted instantly—metal liquefying, solar panels warping and dripping like wax, electronics frying in silent flashes. I was pissed off beyond words. Had Elena really chosen her ex over me? After everything—the first stolen glances over the fence, the garden nights where she touched herself under the moon knowing I watched, the void prison where we were fingertips apart but couldn't reach, the asteroid saves where we threw planet-killers back into the black, the proposal on the moon itself—was it all meaningless? A year of love, battles, unrestricted passion in zero gravity where each thrust thundered like gods at play—reduced to nothing because some ghost from her past called her "Nee"?
I stopped—floating in the black, Earth a blue marble below, the moon a pale companion beside it. Tears froze on my cheeks, crystallizing in the cold vacuum. I stared at our planet—then the moon. And I saw it: a massive crack splitting the lunar surface, jagged and glowing faintly with dark energy, identical to the ones Riftmaster had torn into Earth. The fracture ran from crater to crater, like the moon had been clawed open by the same hand. Was this his plan? To break off a chunk and hurl it at Earth? A moon-sized extinction event—billions dead, oceans boiling, skies darkened for centuries?
I had to let the world leaders know. I turned—flying back at breakneck speed, skin burning again from friction, aura flaring to protect me. But before I could reach the atmosphere, a purple streak intercepted me.
Elena.
She floated in front of me—suit scuffed from her earlier rift dive, hair wild in the vacuum, eyes wide with concern. "Alex! What's going on with you?"
I stopped—chest heaving, fists clenched. "Nothing," I lied, but my voice cracked, raw from screaming into the void.
She floated closer—hand reaching for mine. "Don't bullshit me. You're shaking. You're radiating heat like a star. Talk to me."
I laughed—bitter, broken. "So I guess you really missed your ex, huh?"
Her eyes narrowed. "What the fuck are you talking about, Alex?"
"I saw you both together in a bar. Casually. Laughing. Touching the table. WTF, Elena—this guy is a villain!"
She stared—shock, then hurt flashing across her face. "You followed us?"
"I was patrolling! I saw you disappear with him and I... I lost it. I thought—"
"You thought I was cheating on you?" Her voice was low, dangerous. "With Jason?"
"I don't know what to think!" I shouted—voice echoing in the void through our comms. "You tell me to fall back, let you 'talk,' then fly off with your old boyfriend for hours! No comms, no explanation. What was I supposed to think?"
Elena exhaled—slow, controlled. "I was trying to save the fucking world, Alex. By talking to him. By disappearing with the man who knows more about these rifts than anyone alive—because he created them. That's what I was doing."
"By vanishing with Jason," I spat. "Your old flame. The guy who called you 'Nee' like you two still have some unfinished business."
"You're jealous."
"Yeah, I'm jealous!" I yelled, aura flaring brighter, heat radiating in waves. "You tell me we should see different people, and the next day you bring another man home? What's worse is he didn't leave until morning—so yeah, you fucked him! That's why I met with her—because of what you did!"
Elena flinched—hurt flashing across her face. "That's not fair."
"Isn't it?" I stepped closer—floating closer. "We've barely touched since Tokyo. You say you needed time to process, and I gave it. But then you fly off with him. The best thing I could do was try to talk him out of this—so far miraculously no one has been killed, but he's caused millions in damage. If he goes too far, then I can't help him anymore. That's what I told him. That's what I was doing."
"Help him?" I echoed, shocked and angry. "Why would you want to do that? He's the enemy! He's tearing the planet apart!"
"Because he was my friend once!" she snapped, eyes flashing purple. "Before the lab, before the explosion. We were volunteers together. He was... good, once. I thought he was dead. Seeing him alive, changed... I had to try. I talked to him. I listened. I told him to stop. He said he was 'testing limits'—that he didn't want to kill anyone, just prove a point. He agreed to pause the rifts. For now."
I stared at her—rage and disbelief warring inside me. "You believed him? Just like that?"
"I don't know if I believe him," she said, voice softer but firm. "But I know him. Or... I knew him. If there's a chance to stop this without more destruction, I have to take it. That's what heroes do."
I laughed—hollow. "Heroes. Right. So while I'm out here losing my mind, you're playing therapist with your ex."
She flinched again. "That's not what this is."
"Isn't it?" I shot back. "You haven't touched me since Tokyo. You say you're processing, but you disappear with him for hours. What am I supposed to think?"
She looked away—eyes glistening. "You think I'm cheating on you? With Jason?"
"I don't know what to think!" I yelled, voice breaking. "I love you. I proposed to you on the fucking moon. And now... now it feels like I'm losing you."
Elena stared at me—tears welling. "You're not losing me. But you're not trusting me either."
Silence stretched—painful, heavy.
I exhaled—defeated. "I need space. I'm going next door. To my old room."
She didn't stop me. "Fine."
I walked out—door closing behind me like a guillotine. Elena called after me I came back inside reluctantly
Elena took a slow breath, her fingers twisting the edge of her sleeve like she was grounding herself before jumping off a cliff. The room felt smaller now, the lamplight carving sharp shadows across her face.
"I know it sounds insane when I say it out loud," she started, voice quieter than before. "But yeah… that's Riftmaster. Always has been. He's not some mastermind serial killer—he's a theater kid who discovered he could break things and make people look at him again."
You rubbed the back of your neck, still reeling. "So all the chaos, the threats, the 'rifts' he keeps opening just to fuck with people… it's all for you? To get your attention?"
She gave a small, tired nod. "Pretty much. He used to do smaller stuff back when we were together—dramatic break-ups in public, posting cryptic shit online at 3 a.m., showing up at places he knew I'd be. When I finally cut contact for good, he… escalated. But never to actual murder. He wants me watching. He wants me to care enough to stop him. Killing someone would end the game. He's not ready for the curtain to drop."
You let out a short, disbelieving laugh that didn't feel funny. "And I just thought he was a psycho who hated my guts on principle. God, I feel like an idiot."
"Hey." Elena reached across the table, her hand closing gently around your wrist. "Don't. You weren't supposed to know. I kept it vague because I thought—I hoped—I could talk him down before it touched you. Before he decided you were the obstacle he had to remove."
The word hung there. Obstacle.
You met her eyes. "He wants to kill me."
She didn't flinch or look away. "Yes. He's said it. More than once. 'If Hayden's gone, she'll see me again.' That's why I've been pushing you away, canceling plans, going radio silent sometimes. I was trying to starve him of the jealousy fuel. It worked for a bit… until it didn't."
Silence stretched. You could hear the faint hum of the fridge in the next room.
Finally you asked, "So what's the plan? You said you have one."
Elena leaned forward, elbows on the table, suddenly all business. The exhaustion in her eyes sharpened into something focused.
"His whole thing is performance. He needs an audience. Take that away, and he unravels. Step one: we go public—but not the way he wants. We expose the pattern. All of it. The old posts, the timed 'coincidences,' the messages he's sent me threatening to 'make you notice' if I keep ignoring him. We lay it out cold, factual, no drama. Just screenshots, timestamps, receipts. Make it boring. Make it pathetic."
You raised an eyebrow. "You think shaming him will stop him?"
"Not alone. But it'll shrink the spotlight. Step two: we control the next move. I've been tracking the rifts he opens—there's a pattern in the locations and times. He always picks places tied to memories we shared. Old haunts, that rooftop bar we used to go to, the pier where he first asked me out. He's sentimental in the worst way."
You snorted. "Romantic."
"Exactly. So we pick the next logical spot before he does. We get there first. We wait. When he shows up expecting to monologue and dazzle me with whatever new trick he's cooked up… we don't give him the script he wants."
"What do we do instead?"
Elena's mouth curved—just a fraction, but it was the first real smile you'd seen from her in weeks. "We ignore him. Completely. No eye contact, no raised voices, no reaction. I talk only to you. Like he's not even there. He'll try harder—louder, flashier, more dangerous—but the second he crosses into real harm, we've got backup. I've already talked to two friends who know the whole story. They'll be close, phones ready to record and call if it escalates. And the moment he threatens actual violence on camera? That's the end of his game. Police don't care about theater; they care about credible threats."
You stared at her. "You've really thought this through."
"I've had months to think it through," she said softly. "I just didn't want to drag you into the finale. But he's not stopping. And I'm done hiding."
You exhaled, long and slow. "Okay. If we're doing this… I'm in. But no more solo missions. No more deciding what I can 'handle.' We plan it together. Deal?"
She squeezed your wrist again, tighter this time. "Deal."
Then, quieter: "Thank you. For not running when you finally heard the whole stupid story."
You gave a half-smile. "I mean… I'm still processing the part where your ex is basically a supervillain with abandonment issues. But yeah. We've got this."
Elena laughed—small, surprised, real. "Supervillain with abandonment issues. That's… actually perfect."
The tension in the room eased, just a little. Not gone. But lighter.
"So," you said. "When do we start starving the spotlight?"
Her eyes met yours, steady. "Tomorrow. We start tomorrow."