Anna
The first sign something had gone wrong was the silence.
Not the good kind—the quiet that followed a successful adjustment, when the world exhaled and kept going. This was a silence that pressed inward, like sound swallowed by depth.
Anna felt it while brushing her teeth.
The glass cracked.
She froze, foam still at her lips, crystal flaring hot against her hip.
“Lexus,” she called, already moving.
He was on his feet before she finished speaking.
They didn’t need Mara to tell them this time.
Continuity had noticed.
⸻
Lexus
The city didn’t change at first. That was the trick.
Traffic flowed. People argued on sidewalks. Rain fell where it should. But beneath it all, Lexus felt the mark itch—not pain, not pressure.
Attention.
“They’re triangulating,” he said quietly as they
