Krystal’s Point Of View
The clone’s smile was a mockery of everything I once trusted. Colt’s face—twisted, calm, deliberate. He looked at me like he knew every secret I’d buried, every wound I’d tried to hide. And maybe he did.
Colt lunged without hesitation, and the impact was like a thunderclap—two bodies colliding with primal force, muscle against muscle, fury against precision. They crashed into a glass table, shards exploding outward as they tumbled to the floor. For a second, I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Just stood there, heart in my throat, eyes locked on the chaos unraveling before me.
They grappled violently, fists hammering down like war drums, grunts and snarls echoing through the fractured silence of the safehouse. Blood sprayed across the floor in crimson arcs, slick
