I wake with a scream lodged in my throat. My lungs burn as though I’ve been running, but it isn’t bullets or blood chasing me this time. It’s her.
The woman.
The one from the clipping I found in Valen’s study.
She stood behind me in the dream, a shadow in the mirror, her face pale, her hair damp as though she’d just climbed out of some cold river.
She didn’t speak.
She didn’t move.
She just stared,eyes hollow, lips parted in something that wasn’t quite a scream, wasn’t quite silent either.
And yet, somehow, I knew her name.
I don’t know how. I’ve never said it aloud before, never even thought about it. But when I bolted upright, drenched in sweat, the name spilled from my lips like it had been branded into my tongue. Over and over again, I whispered it, rocking back and forth li
