The city looked different from underground.
From the tunnels, the lights of New York seemed like veins, bright, pulsing, alive with something dangerous. Aria stood at the mouth of the old metro line, her hand pressed against a rusted wall, the hum of power buzzing faintly beneath her palm. The walls were breathing. So was she.
Elias walked behind her, silent, face shadowed under his hood. They hadn't spoken much since the explosion at the safe house. The flames had burned half her memories, but not her purpose.
She was building something new. Something that didn't belong to Sebastian or Lorenzo or anyone else.
But it was harder than she thought.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw flashes, a hand dripping in code, a voice whispering through the static of her mind. It wasn't Lorenzo. It wasn't Sebastian either. It was both, their tones merging, distorted, crawling like a virus through her thoughts.
She breathed slowly, steadying herself.
