Paul Reed Smith S2 Mira Novels & Stories

She raised a hand—and three of her mirror copies lunged forward. Carl intercepted one, blade humming. Ophelia ducked the second, slamming her palm against its head and activating her memory disruptor. Tobias scrambled for cover, launching a neuro-blast that flickered through the air like lightning. But Mira didn’t move. She just watched. And smiled. “You’re not ready for what’s coming,” she said. “None of you are.” Then her body turned to light—and vanished. The remaining mirror copies fell to the ground like broken puppets.

Reed was standing by the table holding a framed photograph. I didn't have to ask to know Mira wasn't coming back. There were three people in the photo that Reed was holding - Morgan, Mira and Kira. The happy girl pulled her parents to her by the neck, they laughed. Morgan even had his eyes closed. In general, an unsuccessful shot, but very lively and sincere.

“Mira...” Mira looked up. Her laugh was sharp, broken,“Oh. You’re here?” Her eyes were bloodshot, rimmed red. “Of course you are. You always fucking are.” Scarlet’s chest tightened. “You shouldn’t be drinking like this. Or smoking. Or whatever the hell you’re trying to do to yourself.” Mira barked a laugh and staggered toward the desk, grabbing a cigarette. “You think I’m smoking?” She struck a lighter, flame flaring too close to her fingers. “Cute. I light them and shove them down my throat.”

“Tonight is not just a celebration, but a reaffirmation of our bonds and our shared vision for the future. “Let us use this time to forge even stronger alliances and to prepare for the challenges ahead. And speaking of an alliance, I want to use this opportunity to call on someone—Mira Smith—who also wants to live the life of freedom for not just her, but also for her people, to create a bond, an unbreakable connection, to live in light. Mira Smith, come over and stand right here beside me.” Mira’s frame, which was cloaked in a silver hoodie, showed gradually as she walked over to the balcony. On one hand was a glass of wine, and with the other, she used it to push off her hood to reveal her

You have to give him credit, at least he didn't ruin his pants. “Your marriage is illegal, so you're still Reed to me. As well as for many others. Your husband is a catcher,” he spat contemptuously. - Think about my offer. Mira struggled with her own darkness for the first time in three years. She did not want to kill the insolent, but her inner essence did not think so. While she was re-erecting the destroyed blocks, the dark one had already managed to move away from her at a decent distance. She glanced at the windows and, doing breathing exercises, walked slowly towards the house. It was lucky that Reiner didn't see it.

His face shifted, the masks he'd learned to wear dropping away, leaving something raw and real. "Elara." "Liam." She stopped before him, close enough to talk, far enough to breathe. "Mira, it's good to finally meet you in person." The artist's eyes were sharp, assessing. "I've seen your work. The harbor series, especially. You see things others miss." "So do you." Elara meant it. "Liam's lucky." Mira glanced at Liam, something warm passing between them. "We're both lucky." She stepped back. "I'll get us more wine. Give you two a moment."

But tonight, the place felt colder, emptier. Mira stood near the window, silhouetted by the glow of city lights. She was wearing a sleek black dress, her hair pulled into an elegant bun. She turned slightly as I entered, a sly smile playing at the corner of her lips. “Cross,” she purred. “Always so punctual.” “Mira,” I said, closing the door behind me. “What do you want?” She turned fully now, her arms crossing over her chest. “Word travels fast, darling. Especially when you go around slaughtering my men at the docks.”

Mira sat cross-legged on the floor by the window, sketching with a dull pencil on hospital paper. She looked up. There was no scream. No gasp. Just a smile. “Hey, sister.” The voice came like a rusted bell—familiar, but off. Savannah stood frozen, watching Mira tilt her head. The light caught the hollows under her eyes, the torn edges of her sanity barely held in place. “You’re not surprised,” Mira whispered. “That means they told you. Or… you figured it out. Which one was it?” “I saw you in the footage,” Savannah said carefully. “At first, I thought I was looking at myself.”

she whispered. Syra squeezed back. “I don’t think so.” She looked around. “I think it’s us.” Something moved at the edge of the glass horizon. Sera tensed. “Did you see that?” Syra didn’t blink. “Yeah.” A figure stepped through the mirage slow, deliberate. Dressed in black. Eyes rimmed in familiar red. It was Mira. But not quite. Not a ghost. Not a hallucination. This Mira was younger. Sharper. Almost… elegant.

"Come on, Mimi. Let's go home." "Alright." Miranda drove, and Paul took the passenger seat. On the way, Paul got out of the car and went to a convenience store by the roadside to buy two bottles of water. He opened one and handed it to Miranda before opening the other for himself. Miranda said, "That's too much. I'm not that thirsty." "Okay. Then, I'll drink it." Paul's lips curled into a smile. Miranda glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. She caught a glimpse of the smile on his face and felt puzzled. Why was he smiling so widely just from drinking water?