The next thing I knew, I was no longer bleeding.
No longer dying.
No longer Selene.
The scent of iron vanished. The warmth draining from my body disappeared. The crushing weight of betrayal dissolved into something sterile and distant.
I stood beneath harsh white lights.
Cold floors stretched beneath my bare feet. Metallic walls rose around me, seamless and indifferent. The air smelled faintly of ozone and antiseptic—so unlike the heavy perfume of roses and candle wax.
Headquarters.
My reflection stared back at me from a polished steel panel.
Pale.
Too pale.
My lips trembled before I forced them still. I would not allow myself that weakness—not here. Not in front of this place.
My pride lay somewhere between disbelief and humiliation, fractured beyond repair.
This was the first time since the beginning of the game that a villain—my villain—had killed me.
Not the righteous male lead.
Not the jealous heroine.
