The bruises haven’t even set in yet, but the ache is already spreading, bone-deep.
I sit on the edge of the motel bed, staring at my hands, flexing my fingers, trying to ignore the tremor running through them. The adrenaline is fading, but my mind keeps replaying the fight in sharp, unforgiving detail.
Zero didn’t just outmatch me. He anticipated me. Every move, every breath, every shift of muscle—I wasn’t just fighting him, I was walking a path he had already mapped out.
That wasn’t human.
Kane paces near the door, arms crossed, jaw tight. She’s usually the first to break a tense silence, but now she just walks back and forth, her boots scuffing against the old carpet. Her gun is still in her hand, but she hasn’t checked it in minutes. That’s how I know she’s shaken.
Eventually, she
