43:59:12
The clock kept ticking.
But so was something else.
A connection.
A fracture healing sideways.
A war becoming personal.
43:58:31
The snow was still falling.
Fat, white flakes, soft as dust, burying the pine spines outside the compound walls. It should’ve felt peaceful. Clean. Like winter was trying to smother the fire we’d lit underneath it.
But I knew better.
Stillness was just waiting with its mouth closed.
I leaned against the mezzanine rail, staring out over the lower decks. Below, security personnel moved like ghosts between checkpoints. Gear checks. Line drills. Nothing was out of place.
Except me.
I hadn’t slept. I hadn’t eaten.
I’d just kept seeing her face.
Ilya.
The girl they’d built from the same wreckage they’d pulled me out of. Cold. Fast. Flawless.
Un
