The girl in the photo looked… wrong.
Not just unfamiliar but wrong.
Her expression was too still, too composed—like something carved instead of lived. Her eyes held no warmth, no flicker of hesitation or doubt. Only a chilling, razor-sharp clarity.
The kind of gaze that didn't ask questions anymore.
The kind that had already chosen.
Lara's fingers trembled where they hovered over the screen.
A cold sensation crept up her arms, slow and invasive, like ice slipping beneath her skin.
That's… me?
The thought didn't settle—it recoiled.
Because the girl in the photo looked like someone who understood everything.
Who knew exactly who she was.
And worse—
Exactly what she was capable of.
Lara's throat constricted. She swallowed, but it did nothing to ease the sudden dryness clawing at her mouth.
Her grip on the phone tightened, knuckles paling.
A heavy realization pressed down on her, suffocating, inescapable—
That version of her…was a stranger.
