The figure didn’t move closer. Just stood there, framed by the faint glow of emergency lights bouncing off the concrete walls, as if time itself had slowed around them. My heartbeat stuttered not from fear, not exactly, but from recognition.It was someone I thought had been gone for years. Gone in fire, in betrayal, in whispers. And yet, here they were, alive, and watching.“Amelia,” the voice was low, cautious, carrying the weight of secrets I had long buried.I froze, every muscle coiling instinctively. My stepbrother, Elliot, tensed beside me. Marcus’s hand rested lightly on his gun but I didn’t need it. My focus was locked.“Why… are you here?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, though the earpiece relayed it clearly to Marcus and Elliot.The figure stepped forward, one foot, then another. Shadows shifted over their face, revealing a faint smirk. “Because you’re making a mess of my city,” they said.Not my city. My father’s city. But the line between legacy and ownership w
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