Elena knocked once, softly, and the sound echoed through the cottage like a death knell—polite, civilized, absolutely terrifying in its normalcy.Liam was already moving, his body operating on pure instinct honed from months of survival: phone dialing 911 with one hand while the other reached for the gun he'd sworn he'd never need again, positioned himself between the door and the bedroom where Sophia slept, pregnant and vulnerable and blissfully unaware that the woman they'd watched die three weeks ago was standing on their porch very much alive. His mind raced through possibilities—hallucination, lookalike, some kind of Council trick—but the security camera didn't lie, and the face staring back at him through the window was unmistakably Elena Morrison, looking healthier than she had in months, smiling with the kind of serene certainty that came from holding all the cards."I know you're awake, Liam," Elena called through the door, her voice carrying that familiar warmth that had onc
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