“Sammie, dear,” she said with a practiced sweetness. “Grief does strange things. Especially when someone resembles a memory.”
“I know who he is,” I replied calmly.
Her expression sharpened almost imperceptibly.
“For Elias’s well-being, you should keep your distance,” she said. “Otherwise, paperwork will come—and he will disappear.”
Gabriel stiffened beside me.
“Stop talking about me like I’m a file,” he snapped.
But Camille didn’t even glance at him.
Her eyes stayed on me—like I was still someone she could erase.
After that, everything became quieter… and more dangerous.
We met on the back porch, careful, always watching. More than once, a black sedan lingered at the corner. Camille wasn’t even trying to hide it.
One afternoon, Gabriel brought an old photograph.
We were seventeen, arms wrapped around each other, matching infinity tattoos.
“I kept this,” he said. “It was the only thing they couldn’t take.”
“Did you ever try to leave?” I asked.
“Twice, the first year. They found me both times. After that… there was always someone assigned to me. Watching. Managing.”
“And you just accepted it?”
