Ava’s POV:
My breath locks in my chest.
The voice doesn’t echo. It doesn’t distort. It’s not coming from a speaker hidden badly or a screen flickering to life. It is precise and intimate, tuned to the acoustics of the room like it has spoken here many times before.
Julian doesn’t react.
That scares me more than the voice itself.
“Who the f**k is that?” I ask, forcing the words out evenly.
Julian’s gaze stays forward, his body angled slightly toward me without touching. A barrier. A warning. “You don’t need to answer yet,” he says to the room. “You already have what you wanted.”
A pause follows. Measured. Deliberate.
Then the voice speaks again. “We have part of what we wanted. The rest depends on her.”
Her. Not you. Not Ava.
Me as an object.
“Show yourself,” I say, before Julian
