Atlas's POV
I sat on the edge of the bed, the lamp throwing shadows across the room while I tugged at the seam of the skin mask. It peeled away from my jaw in one smooth stretch, and I dragged it off my face with practiced patience. My reflection in the mirror across from me shifted from the plain disguise I’d worn all day into the real me.
The resemblance was sharp, almost mocking—my face mirrored Enzo’s, Ash’s, Kael’s. Same bone structure, same predatory edge around the eyes, like we were carved from the same damn stone. I ran a hand down my cheek, tracing the sharper lines, and let the air hit my skin after hours of suffocating under the fake layer. The mask landed on the table with a dull slap.
My shirt was half-buttoned, collar hanging loose, as I reached for the watch on the dress
