Makayla’s breath stilled in her chest.
She couldn’t move.
Couldn’t blink.
Couldn’t breathe.
The words echoed in her mind, each one heavier than the last.
But he isn’t.
It didn’t make sense.
It couldn’t make sense.
Because Mikhail was right there.
He was standing there, just a few feet away, solid and real, his face barely changed.
Barely.
But that was the problem.
That single, terrifying almost.
Because the longer she looked at him, the more she realized—
Something was off.
His stance—too rigid.
His shoulders—too still.
His expression—too empty.
Mikhail was never like this.
Never this quiet.
Never this… lifeless.
And that—
That was what made her hands shake.
“Mikhail…”
Her voice wavered.
No response.
Not even a flicker of recognition.
Her chest tightened.
No.
N
