Selene's POV
The wheels of the plane touched down with a quiet thunder, the way old ghosts sometimes return silent at first, then loud enough to shake you.
One year
One year since I left New York.
One year since I left the city I once called home.
And now, here I was again.
The plane door hissed open, the stale chill of recycled air rushing out as if the sky itself exhaled. My heels clicked against the narrow aisle as I stepped forward, dragging my luggage behind me like a reluctant child. Every inch of movement felt like peeling back a layer of skin raw and familiar and too real.
I barely made it down the stairs before the flashes began.
Click. Click. Click.
Like miniature lightning strikes, each burst of light carved my name back into a city I wasn’t ready to face.
“Selene Step
