Waking up to my sin
I searched for the stinging, white powder of the Alpine slopes.
I saw it then. Flashes of a completely different life shattered the Vane illusions. A cramped bathroom floor. The faint, sweet smell of vanilla and cheap, industrial soap. A woman’s face—not porcelain and perfect like Sienna’s, but real, scarred, and beautiful. Her eyes were full of a fierce, protective fire that didn't want to possess me like an object; it wanted to burn with me against the world.
"I'm Leona," the voice whispered in the dark of my skull, cutting through the fog like a lighthouse beam. "And you're Malakai. Not the Asset. Not the King. Just mine."