The night was quiet, save for the soft hum of the ceiling fan and the occasional rustle of leaves outside Kristina's window. Steven Henderson lay on the bed in Kristina's guest room, the sheets cool against his skin. His body was still sore, the wounds from the earlier battle still fresh, but there was a strange peace in the air. For the first time in what felt like ages, he didn't feel like a monster. He was just... Steven. A man who, despite everything, still had the capacity to feel something real.
Kristina had insisted he stay for the night. He hadn't been able to argue. With no energy left to ride his bike, he had no choice but to accept her offer. Besides, he needed the rest. The exhaustion that clung to him was deep—more than just physical. He could still feel the heat from the ghostly transformation lingering beneath his skin, but it was muted now. Maybe it was because he was no longer alone.
Outside his door, the soft murmur of voices echoed. Alejandra Jones had stayed for a while, her presence uncomfortably close to his, but she'd finally decided to leave. Steven wasn't sure whether it was the heat of her gaze or her constant teasing, but there was something about her that didn't sit right. She was an enigma—just like him, but in a different way.
As she gathered her things, she smirked, looking over her shoulder at Kristina, who was standing near the door. Alejandra's voice was teasing, light, and filled with the kind of bravado that made Steven uncomfortable.
"So, you've got him all to yourself now," Alejandra said, her lips curling into a playful grin. "Lucky you. I bet it's been a long time since someone like him has been in your bed. Don't worry, Kristina—he's a handful, but you can handle him."
Kristina didn't respond right away, her face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and anger. She was no stranger to Alejandra's bold nature, but the words still stung. Alejandra was the kind of woman who spoke her mind without a second thought.
"You better go, Alejandra," Kristina said, her voice firm but calm. "You're not helping."
Alejandra chuckled, the sound of her heels clicking against the floor as she made her way to the door. "Don't worry, I'll leave you two lovebirds to your… moment," she teased, winking before walking out.
The door clicked shut, and Kristina stood still for a moment, taking in a deep breath. Steven could hear her footsteps as she approached the side of the bed.
"Are you alright?" Kristina asked softly, her voice laced with concern. She sat at the edge of the bed, her hand gently resting on his. Her touch was warm and grounding, reminding Steven of the life he had almost lost.
He nodded, but he couldn't find the words to express just how much he appreciated her kindness, her patience. He was tired, so tired, and yet the quiet comfort of her presence made him feel like maybe there was still hope for him. Maybe he wasn't beyond redemption after all.
Kristina's gaze softened, and she looked down at their joined hands. She seemed to hesitate for a moment, as though weighing the right moment to speak. Finally, she took a deep breath, her voice barely a whisper in the quiet room.
"I love you, Steven," she said, her words carrying a weight that made Steven's heart skip a beat.
Her confession hung in the air, as if the room itself had paused to listen. For a moment, Steven couldn't move, couldn't speak. He wanted to say something, anything, but the truth was, he had never felt more vulnerable. There was a heaviness in his chest—emotions he hadn't allowed himself to feel in so long. His life had been chaos, filled with revenge and darkness, but Kristina... Kristina had always been the light, the constant.
"I love you too," Steven finally whispered, his voice thick with emotion.
Kristina's face softened, a gentle smile playing on her lips as she leaned closer, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. The simple act of her care made everything feel so much lighter. He had been through hell, both literally and figuratively, but in that moment, with Kristina beside him, he felt like maybe there was still a future for him.
A future where he wasn't just a weapon, where he could be the man he had always wanted to be.
Kristina's hand caressed his cheek gently, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Steven allowed himself to rest—knowing that, no matter what happened next, he wasn't alone.
***
The morning sun spilled golden light across the land, but inside Alejandra's makeshift tent, the air felt still and heavy. The canvas walls shifted slightly with the breeze, casting muted shadows over her as she moved. Her bare skin, kissed by the morning chill, gleamed faintly as she reached for a blade to shave, her focus steady despite the quiet around her.
But then, the atmosphere shifted. The light dimmed unnaturally, and the air thickened like a storm was about to break. Alejandra froze, her hand still gripping the blade. A faint, chilling laugh echoed outside the tent.
She grabbed her jacket but didn't have time to pull it on before the darkness invaded, a pulse of shadow spreading like ink. And then he was there—Blackout. His pale skin and hollow, menacing eyes glinted in the dim light.
"You think you can interfere with my plans?" Blackout's voice was low, venomous, as if the very sound could sap the strength from her.
Alejandra stood her ground, her lips curling into a mocking smile despite the dread pooling in her chest. "I don't interfere—I finish what others can't."
Blackout's smirk widened, revealing jagged teeth. In a blink, he was in front of her, his hand gripping her throat with an unnatural strength. Alejandra choked, her vision blurring as Blackout's decay spread through her veins, sapping her strength.
"You're just another failed experiment," he hissed, lifting her off the ground. "Do you think you can stop me? You're not even close to his level."
Her vision darkened, but then something flickered inside her—a searing heat, an unrelenting fire. Her body ignited, and within seconds, her flesh melted away to reveal the flaming skeleton beneath. The Ghost Rider roared to life.
"You talk too much," she rasped, her voice echoing with a supernatural distortion. Her chains materialized from nowhere, coiling in the air before lashing toward Blackout.
The tent was engulfed in chaos as fire clashed with shadow. Blackout grunted as the chain wrapped around his arm, its molten heat burning through his pale skin. But his grin didn't falter.
"You're strong," he admitted, shoving her back with a wave of decaying energy. "But strength means nothing without control."
The blow sent Alejandra crashing into the ground, her skeletal body flickering with flames that struggled to stay lit. She tried to rise, her chains dragging weakly behind her, but Blackout loomed over her.
"You're not ready to face me," he sneered, his voice cold as death. "And you never will be."
With one last surge of power, he sent her flying, her flames extinguishing as she slammed into the ground outside the tent. The morning light washed over her, her transformation fading. Now in her human form, her body lay motionless, bruised and weak. She gasped for air, barely able to lift her head.
Blackout crouched beside her, brushing a strand of her hair from her face with mocking gentleness. "Next time, stay out of my way, little Rider. You're nothing but a spark compared to the inferno that's coming."
He vanished into the shadows, leaving Alejandra battered but alive, her body trembling as the weight of her failure sank in. The faint warmth of the sun on her skin was the only reminder that she still had a fight left to give.