💥 “OH MY GH! SONNY ENCOUNTERS JASON IN THE GRAVEYARD!” The night was heavy with rain, the kind that soaked through clothes and bones alike, the kind that made the headstones glisten like cold marble ghosts under the dim light of Port Charles Cemetery. Sonny Corinthos stood alone, a black umbrella barely shielding him from the storm, staring at a grave that had no name yet—just a mound of earth waiting for truth to be buried beneath it. He thought he was alone, but then he heard it—the sound of boots crunching on wet gravel, slow and deliberate. He turned, breath catching in his throat. There, through the mist, stood Jason Morgan. Alive. Pale. Determined. Haunted. “Jason?” Sonny whispered, disbelief cutting through the thunder. Jason stepped closer, rain dripping from his leather jacket, his piercing blue eyes locking onto Sonny’s with a mix of pain and purpose. “It’s me,” he said flatly. “You shouldn’t be here.” Sonny’s pulse raced, his hand twitching toward the inside of his coat out of instinct, but then stopped. “You were dead, Jason. We buried you. We mourned you. What the hell brought you back?” For a moment, Jason said nothing. The wind howled between the tombstones, carrying the scent of rain and decay. Then he said it, voice low and steady: “To lay you to rest before you lay her to rest.” Sonny froze. “Her? What are you talking about?” Jason’s eyes hardened. “Carly. You think I don’t know what you’ve done? What you’re planning? You crossed a line, Sonny. You made a deal that cost her everything.” Sonny’s jaw tightened, anger flickering across his face. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he growled. “Carly made her own choices. She wanted out, Jason. She wanted peace.” Jason shook his head, rain dripping from his hair. “You call that peace? Running from the people who used to protect her? You left her wide open, Sonny. And now the people you once trusted are closing in. I came back to stop you before you drag her down with you.” The tension between them was electric, years of brotherhood, betrayal, and buried loyalty hanging in the air. “You think you can stop me?” Sonny sneered. “You think you’re the hero now?” Jason stepped closer, his voice a low growl. “No, Sonny. I’m just the one cleaning up your mess. Like always.” Lightning split the sky, illuminating the two men—friends turned enemies—standing between graves of everyone they’d ever loved or lost. “You’ve changed,” Sonny said bitterly. “You sound like them now. Like you think I’m the bad guy.” Jason’s voice cracked just enough to reveal the truth behind his fury. “You are, Sonny. You just don’t see it. You’re not protecting your family anymore—you’re destroying it.” A long silence followed, broken only by the steady rhythm of the rain. Then Sonny’s eyes darkened. “If you came here to stop me,” he said quietly, “you should’ve stayed dead.” Jason’s hand moved subtly toward his side, not for a gun, but for the worn photograph he carried in his jacket—the one of Carly and Donna, taken before everything fell apart. He tossed it at Sonny’s feet. “That’s who I came back for,” Jason said. “Not you. Not revenge. Just to make sure she lives long enough to see you for who you’ve become.” Sonny stared at the photo, his breath hitching, emotion warring with pride. “You don’t understand,” he whispered. “I did it all for her.” “You always say that,” Jason replied, voice hollow. “But every time you do, someone ends up in a grave.” The thunder rolled again, drowning out whatever came next. For a heartbeat, neither man moved—two ghosts of their own making, locked in a standoff between loyalty and loss. Then Jason turned and began to walk away, his silhouette fading into the fog. “This isn’t over,” Sonny called after him. Jason didn’t look back. “No,” he said softly, his voice carried on the wind. “It’s just beginning.” The storm swallowed him whole, leaving Sonny standing alone among the dead, the photograph at his feet slowly dissolving in the rain—just like the last remnants of the bond they once shared