Crossed Lines
He was studying her as though she’d just handed him something sacred.
“Elara.” His voice was low, steady. “You couldn’t turn into her even if you tried.”
Her chest tightened painfully, and when her hands trembled slightly, he reached across the table, steadying them with his. Warmth spread through her skin like a betrayal, but she didn’t pull away.
For a moment, in the humming quiet of CrossTech’s midnight halls, there were no empires, no enemies, no masks. Just two people, one afraid of losing herself, the other terrified of losing everything else.