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Naked truth between thin lines
Last Updated:
2025-11-25 23:14:00
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The cursed mate's return The broadcast starts without warning
Maia's povEvery screen in the city turns white at the same time. Apartments, transit hubs, wrist displays, old wall panels people forgot still worked. There is no countdown and no announcement. One moment the city is loud and fractured, the next it is focused on a single point.I did not plan it like this. I did not cue a system or issue a command. The city simply opens its throat and hands me the voice.Kael feels it before I do. His hand tightens around mine, firm and grounding, not asking permission. He looks at the nearest wall display, then at me, and something shifts in his expression. He knows what this means. He also knows there is no pulling it back.“Maia,” he says. Just my name. Nothing else.I breathe in. The air tastes like dust and ozone. The room we are standing in is stripped bare from the fighting earlier. Exposed conduits run along the walls. The lights flicker but stay on. The city wants this seen.Eli is pacing near the door, running a hand through his hair, eyes
The cursed mate's return The first truth
Maia's povThe broadcast goes live by accident.No speech or any button pressed with intent. Just a system rerouting itself after I rewired too much, too fast. A fail-safe looking for an authority that no longer exists and landing on me instead.Every screen in the city lights up at once.Homes, trains, streets and implants people forgot they were wearing.I feel it before I see it, the sudden weight of attention, millions of eyes snapping open at the same time. Kael’s hand tightens around mine.“What did you do?” he asks.My throat is dry. “I don’t know.”And then my face is everywhere.Not a polished image. Not corrected. Just me as I am the blood at my hairline, eyes too bright, breathing too fast.For half a second, no one speaks.Then the noise hits.Voices, shouting, crying, laughter, anger pouring through open channels that were never meant to be shared. People realizing they are not alone in what they remember. Or what they’ve lost.The city fractures in real time.Someone sc
The cursed mate's return Terrified spirits
Maia's povThe broadcast goes live by accident.That’s what it will be called later. An error. A cascade failure. A glitch no one could have predicted.But I feel it the moment it happens.The city exhales, and suddenly I am everywhere.Every screen lights at once. Transit walls. Wrist slates. Storefront glass. Living room projectors. A million private spaces breached in the same breath.My face stares back at me from a cracked monitor across the chamber.I don’t recognize myself at first.Not because I look different, but because I look unedited. No careful removal of the parts that scared people.I look alive.“Oh,” someone whispers behind me.Kael.I turn. He’s already watching the screens, jaw tight, eyes locked on my image like it might reach out and pull him apart.“This wasn’t planned,” he says.“I know.”The city doesn’t wait for permission.My voice fills the air, layered over itself, carried through open channels that never should have existed.“People of the city,” I hear m
The cursed mate's return Superior
Maia's povJonas Hale finishes speaking. I don’t give him the courtesy of silence.“No,” I say.The word lands clean. Final. No room to negotiate inside it.The city reacts before he does. A low surge ripples through the chamber, not violent, not protective alert like something large has lifted its head.Jonas exhales through his nose. “That was fast.”“You expected hesitation,” I say. “You miscalculated.”He studies me the way engineers look at a structure that held when it shouldn’t have. “You don’t understand the scope of what you’re refusing.”“I understand perfectly,” I reply. “You want a face for your control. You want guilt to wear my name.”“That’s reductionist.”“It’s accurate.”The room tightens, architecture responding to authority conflict. Jonas notices. His smile thins.“You’re overextending,” he says. “The Continuum won’t tolerate—”“I already taught it to,” I cut in.That finally lands.Jonas’s posture changes. The first real crack.“You didn’t teach it defiance,” he s
The cursed mate's return Alignment
Maia's povPeople like him think waiting is power. They think stillness means control. But I know the difference between patience and paralysis. I was built in that gap.“You don’t need my answer,” I say. “You already decided.”Jonas’s expression doesn’t change. “Decisions can be revised.”“No,” I reply. “Outcomes can. Not intent.”The city hums under my skin, tighter now, like a held breath. It knows him. It remembers him. Not fondly.“You want me as an interface,” I continue. “As a filter. A conscience you can claim when it suits you and silence when it doesn’t.”“That’s an emotional interpretation,” Jonas says.“It’s an accurate one.”Behind him, the sealed doors begin to glow faintly. Custodian tech. Not Council. Older. Harder to break. Built for inevitability, not resistance.Jonas notices my attention shift. “We anticipated refusal.”“Of course you did.”“You’re not the first to resist.”“I will be the last,” I say.Something sharpens in his eyes. “You overestimate your leverage
The cursed mate's return Scrap above what's expected
Maia's povJonas Hale waits. I don’t then I moved again.The moment stretches wrong, like the world expects me to hesitate. That’s the mistake they keep making. I didn’t survive the Council by pausing.“You don’t get to recruit me,” I say. “You don’t get to threaten me. And you don’t get to decide what survives.”Jonas’s smile fades. Not anger. Interest.“That wasn’t a refusal,” he says.“It was,” I answer.The city reacts before he does. Power shifts. Floors reweight. The chamber tightens, not collapsing—aligning. I feel resistance immediately. Continuum-adjacent.Jonas exhales through his nose. “You think you’re in control.”“I know I’m not,” I say. “That’s why you’re nervous.”He lifts his hand.The air locks.Not freezing but restricting. Like gravity suddenly learned my name and decided to test it. Pain spikes behind my eyes. My knees bend but don’t touch the floor.Jonas watches closely. Measuring response time.“This is why we can’t allow you to walk away,” he says. “You desta
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