Bad Boy Alpha
The voice didn’t echo—it reverberated inside me, brushing against bone, threading through memories.
I turned slowly.
The shadows moved—no, shaped. They weren’t empty.
And then she stepped forward.
My mirror.
My sister.
She looked just like me—but wrong, uncanny. Like a painting smudged just slightly out of alignment. Where mine were golden, hers were pitch black twin black holes digesting the shadowy light. Her skin is white, almost transparent and her lips curl into a half smile, not evil but that is not good either.
“You came,” she said, voice soft and echoing. “You finally heard me.”
Bab Populer