Hailey’s POVSomewhere far beyond this space, I feel Dylan scream.Not with my ears.With my nervous system.It rips through me, raw and unfiltered, and whatever part of me was splitting seconds ago slams violently back together. The hostile version of me smiles faintly, as if my pain confirms her thesis.“Attachment confirmed,” she says. “Erasure proceeding.”“No.”The word leaves me hoarse, breaking.The organic threads behind my ribs ignite.I do not think.I reach.Not for power.For him.The space convulses. The fracture that swallowed Dylan flickers unstable, its edges crackling. I can feel him through it now, not visually, but emotionally. Fear. Rage. A desperate, stubborn refusal to disappear.He is fighting.For me.The realization is intimate in a way that undoes me. Not grand. Not heroic.Personal.The hostile version of me steps closer. Her presence feels sterile, cold against my overheated skin.“You destabilize global recovery for a singular bond,” she says. “I will remo
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