CHAPTER 85: FLORA!!

The bar was drenched in a heavy silence, broken only by the faint hum of the ceiling fan and the distant clink of a bartender wiping down already-clean glasses. But Miles and Dion sat still—two brothers, once inseparable, now divided by years of shadows, loss, and bitter truths.

Dion finally broke the silence.

"That year... when I got back from that mission," he began, his voice dry, cracking at the edges, "they told me Flora was gone."

He didn’t look at Miles—his eyes were fixed on the table, the wood stained dark like old blood.

"I was broken," Dion whispered. "And angry. So angry I couldn’t think straight. They said her undercover op with Jehan got compromised... Graveyard claimed the mission failed and we lost Flora in the field. Just like that. No closure. No body. No answers."

Miles’s jaw tightened, but he remained silent, listening.

"I wanted Jehan’s head," Dion continued. "You remember how furious I was. We both were."

Miles gave a silent nod, a flicker of pain in his eyes.

"But Graveyard had other plans. They wanted to capture him. Slow. Careful. Methodical. And I—I couldn’t wait."

He exhaled, bitter and sharp. "The old commander tried to calm me down. Pulled me aside after I lashed out in the war room. Told me to have faith. That justice would be served in time."

Dion’s hands trembled as he reached for his glass, but didn’t drink. "And then... fate intervened. Or maybe it was something else. As I was storming out of the command center, a cleaner bumped into the shredder bin. The container tipped, paper scraps flying everywhere."

He paused, swallowing hard. "A strip of paper landed right at my feet. It had Flora’s name on it."

Miles’s eyes narrowed slightly, the memory echoing in his mind.

"I gathered as much of the shredded paper as I could, stuffed them into my jacket. That night, I sat in my room, piecing it all back together like some obsessed lunatic."

Dion’s voice cracked again. "What I found... it wasn’t everything, not even half. But enough. Enough to know that her death wasn’t some accident. It was a plan. A fucking blueprint."

He looked at Miles for the first time.

"I knew someone from Graveyard orchestrated it. I didn’t know who. I didn’t trust anyone anymore. So I went rogue. I tracked Jehan down myself, confronted him in some run-down bar outside Kaldwin. I was ready to put a bullet in his skull right there."

Miles’s expression darkened, but he stayed still, unreadable.

"But Jehan didn’t fight back," Dion said, eyes now glassy with tears. "He said he didn’t kill Flora. Claimed he didn’t even know she was a spy until she was already dead. He said she was... good. Sharp. Loyal. Said he respected her."

Dion’s hands were shaking now. "And then... he gave me something. A sheet of paper. Said he found it in her room after she died. Miles—it was the same one I tried to piece together. Same texture. Same tears. Except this was whole. One full page. Still not complete, but it confirmed what I feared."

He leaned forward, whispering now, like he couldn’t bear to speak it too loud.

"Graveyard planned her death, Ghost. They used her as bait. Sent her to die. That mission was never about success. It was a sacrifice."

A pause.

"I wanted revenge. I wanted to ask you for help, but I knew... I knew you wouldn’t believe me. You were still loyal. So I kept quiet. I started working from the shadows. Raised money. Built connections. Waited."

Miles’s lips parted slightly, pain flickering across his face—but he still said nothing.

"I struck a deal with Jehan," Dion said. "Used him. Used his network. I didn’t trust him, but he was the only one who hated Graveyard enough to help me without asking questions."

Dion lowered his head. "And today... was supposed to be the end of it. My last deal. My last act before cutting ties. I was going to move against Graveyard tomorrow."

A bitter laugh escaped him, empty and broken.

"But Jehan had other plans."

His fists clenched.

And today , just like that—he told me he killed Flora. With his own hands. "

Dion broke down. The tears came hard now, dripping silently onto the table.

"All these years... planning, surviving, sacrificing everything—for what? I was manipulated from the start. Used. Lied to. I betrayed my people, my brothers, for nothing."

He looked up at Miles, his eyes pleading, red and raw.

"I still dream of her, Ghost. Every night. Her laugh. Her eyes. I loved her, man. I never stopped."

Dion’s voice dropped to a whisper.

"I’m a mess. I’ve crossed too many lines. Burned too many bridges. But please..."

He leaned closer, desperation in his voice.

"Let me finish this. Let me end Jehan. At least let me do that for her."

The silence returned. Heavy. But this time it was filled with history, pain... and the weight of a decision Miles had to make.

The bar remained dim, cast in hues of amber and grey. Only the soft hum of an old ceiling fan stirred the silence as the truth hung heavy between them. Miles finally spoke, his voice low and controlled, like a storm waiting just behind his calm eyes.

"When did you become so stupid?" he said, looking Dion straight in the eye."You made wrong decisions. You could’ve told me about the paper back then—if you had, none of this would’ve happened."

Dion flinched as if struck.His voice cracked. "You knew? You knew about the paper... and the plan already, Ghost?"

Miles’s jaw tightened. "My name is Miles."

Dion’s eyes widened. His breath hitched. "You... you remember your name now?"

Miles gave a faint nod, eyes dark with memory. "That’s a long story."He leaned forward, voice turning grave. "There was a rule in Graveyard—or at least, there used

to be one."

Dion sat still, listening as if the world was about to shift again.

"Once you become a part of Graveyard, you cannot leave it. Ever."Miles’s voice was sharp with bitterness."Flora loved you. More than anything. She dreamed of a life with you—away from the missions, the blood, the shadows."His voice softened, just a touch."She wanted peace. She wanted forever with you."

Dion lowered his eyes, the weight of guilt dragging down his shoulders.

"She shared that wish with Ray," Miles continued. "He was our father in every way that counted. And he wanted us—his kids—to be free, happy. But the Commander back then... he’d never allow it."

Miles exhaled deeply. His fingers tapped slowly on the wooden table.

"So Ray devised a plan. A plan to fake our deaths and give us new lives. The paper you found wasn’t just about Flora’s supposed death—it had your name. Mine, too. We were all meant to disappear and start over."

Dion’s eyes were distant now. Haunted. His lips trembled with the memory of Flora’s laughter, her touch.

"But her last mission went wrong," Miles said, quieter now. "She was compromised. And then everything fell apart."

Dion shook his head slowly, as if trying to hold back the ocean crashing inside."It’s my fault... what have I done...?" he murmured."I let anger blind me. I turned against my family... against you..."

Miles leaned back in his chair, eyes fixed on his brother."I have something to tell you," he said. "Something even Graveyard doesn’t know."

Dion looked up slowly, confused. "What is it?"

Miles didn’t blink. His words dropped like thunder.

"Flora is alive."

Dion froze.

For a heartbeat, he didn’t breathe. The world around him fell silent—utterly, completely silent. Then his lips parted, but no words came. His throat worked as if trying to speak, but emotion choked the sound.

His hands clenched the edge of the table. His shoulders trembled.

"What...?" he whispered. "No... that can’t... she... you’re lying."

But he saw it in Miles’s eyes. The unwavering truth. The calm certainty.

Tears filled Dion’s eyes, but he didn’t let them fall. He shook his head slowly, as if resisting the very hope that tried to rise within him.

"All these years... all this pain... she’s... alive?"

He looked like a man shattered and reborn at once. A storm of grief, guilt, love, and disbelief flooding his face.

Then, barely audible—

"Where is she...?"

Miles stood slowly, eyes heavy with everything he still hadn’t said.

Dion’s voice trembled. "Where is she...?"He barely got the words out, as if afraid they’d vanish into the silence.

Miles nodded slowly, his tone softening."After that night... we never found her body. All we knew was that she fell from the cliff."He paused, eyes distant."But something didn’t sit right with me. I asked someone I trusted to investigate quietly."

Miles took a step closer to Dion."You had already left the Graveyard. You’d joined Mullins, cut contact. But I kept looking. Then one day, I got a call... A woman, in a coma, found in a small village not far from the mission site."

He swallowed."I went there myself."

Dion’s eyes locked with his, searching for lies—but found none.

"I couldn’t believe it," Miles whispered. "It was her. Flora. She was alive. Broken, but breathing."He exhaled slowly. "I arranged everything—doctors, care, all of it. I told no one. Not even Ray. The Graveyard couldn’t know."

Dion’s voice cracked."She... she’s okay?"

Miles smiled faintly."She came out of the coma last year. Her first thought was you. She wanted to find you, immediately.""But I told her to wait. You weren’t ready... And honestly, neither was I."

Miles took a step back and looked up at the morning light filtering through the window."I’ve changed, Dion. I’m not the Ghost of the Graveyard anymore. I was relieved of duty a month ago. I found my family—my real family. A mother. Two younger siblings. A reason to live, beyond the blood."

Dion wiped his face with the back of his hand, blinking rapidly."I... I can’t believe it."

"It’s true."Miles reached into his coat pocket and handed Dion a small black card.

"My contact. You’ll need it soon."

Dion looked down at it, unsure what to say.

"You have to answer to the Graveyard," Miles said calmly. "They’re already on the way. Go with them. Face the truth. Commander Ray will listen. I’ll make sure of it."

He placed a firm hand on Dion’s shoulder."When it’s done... contact me."

He stepped away, turning toward the door."We’ll go see Flora. Together."

A long silence settled between the brothers.