The safehouse trembled with tension. Every step, every sound, every heartbeat was amplified in the chaotic silence that had fallen over the room. Lena’s chest heaved as she recovered from her misstep, realizing for the first time that she was no longer leading the dance—Aria was. Aria leaned over her phone, fingers brushing the glass lightly, eyes narrowing as she studied Lena’s hesitation. One second. One subtle twitch. That was all she needed. “You see, Lena,” Aria’s voice whispered, soft, deadly, almost amused, “control is not about brute force. It’s about patience. It’s about anticipation. And right now… you’re behind.” Lena’s hands clenched into fists. Her eyes flashed with anger, with desperation, with fear she refused to admit. “I can still win,” she hissed, voice tight. “I’ve survived everything… I can survive you.” Aria’s lips curved into a faint, precise smile. “You’re about to find out that surviving me isn’t enough. You need to anticipate me—and you can’t. Not now. Not
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