A D R I A N
By the time Ethan finishes his report, dawn bleeds over Seraphine’s horizon. The message still burns behind my eyes.
LEAVE BEFORE LANTERN TIDE. OR ELSE.
I’ve read it fifty times and still can’t breathe past the idea of her name being a threat.
Elara’s asleep in the clinic office, curled sideways on the couch she swore wasn’t comfortable enough for patients. Her breath is slow but restless, her lips still swollen from the kiss we never got to finish. If I look too long, I forget there’s a threat waiting behind her name.
“Anonymous domain, rerouted through three VPNs,” Ethan says quietly. “But the signal pinged near the service pier cameras before it went dark.”
“So they’re here.”
“Or close enough to want her to see it.”
I stare at the windows, nothing but pale light and
