The voice in the rain didn't fade.
It echoed, carried through the cold air like a memory refusing to die.
Aria froze where she stood, rain dripping down her face. Her hand clenched around the gun at her side, but she didn't lift it. She knew that voice. Every word, every tone, it was Sebastian.
Elias stepped forward, scanning the fog. "There's no one here," he muttered. "It's just the echo. You're hearing things."
Aria shook her head. "No. He's close."
And she was right.
A tall figure stepped out of the smoke ahead. The red streetlight caught his face, half-burned, half-perfect. Sebastian Draven, alive, or something close to it. His eyes gleamed cold, like mirrors that reflected only her fear.
He wore a long black coat, rain sliding down the edges, and his smile, God, that smile, was the same one that once made her shiver in his bed.
"Hello, my wife," he said softly. "You've been busy."
