For all her careful plans, despite clawing her way out of chains and blood, unease still clung to her like a second skin.
She had never shied from bloodshed. If she had to kill, she killed—clean, efficient, without remorse. But she never craved it. Never enjoyed it. Every strike of her blade, every drop of blood, was only necessity. Survival. Nothing more. And sometimes, on nights when the air was still, she remembered that small yearning for a life untouched by such things.
That part of her had been smothered long ago. Now, only strength mattered. Strength enough to one day bury her enemies, strength enough to cut down the scientist who had twisted her fate. Until then, she would wait, sharpen, endure.
Still—something faint and unexplainable tugged at her.
She knew the Lee family look
