The silence after her words was heavy, too heavy.
Lorenzo stared at Aria, his breath caught in his throat. The room felt smaller, colder. Every candle had died, every flicker of light eaten by the darkness that seemed to hum around her.
Aria stood there, body still, eyes open but not hers anymore. They were crimson and deep, reflecting the fire of someone long dead. Her lips curved into that same half-smile Silas used to wear when he was about to break someone.
"Aria," Lorenzo said softly, stepping closer. "If you can hear me, fight him."
She tilted her head. "Lorenzo," she whispered, voice dripping with something wrong. "You never understood. She's not fighting. She invited me in."
Elias moved fast, pulling his gun, but Lorenzo grabbed his wrist. "Don't," he hissed. "You shoot her, you shoot him."
