Dante heard her before he saw her.
Breathing.
Two sets.
Same rhythm.
Same pattern.
Same existence.
He stepped into the abandoned warehouse slowly, his weapon steady in his hand, his eyes scanning every shadow, every movement, every lie waiting to reveal itself.
The air smelled like rust and cold concrete.
And then—
He saw them.
Two figures.
Two identical women.
Two identical faces.
Aruna.
Standing ten feet apart from each other.
One tied to a chair.
Bruised.
Breathing hard.
Alive.
The other standing freely.
Unharmed.
Calm.
Watching him.
Waiting.
Dante stopped.
His entire body went still.
Because this—
This was war.
The twin smiled first.
“Hello, Dante.”
Aruna didn’t speak.
Her eyes locked onto his.
Not begging.
Not pleading.
Trusting.
The twin stepped for
