THIRD-PERSON POINT OF VIEW
Odette stood in front of the van, her pistol aimed steady, shielding Dalle with her body. Her pulse beat calm but hard beneath her skin, her mind calculating every possible exit, every shot, every sound.
Luke stood in the half-light, arms open as if welcoming her home.
"Well done, Sable," he said, voice soft with amusement. "I always did love watching you work."
But Odette didn't flinch. Didn't answer right away.
Instead, she smirked.
Because something was off.
Her eyes flicked upward. At the corner of the warehouse's rusted wall, nestled beside a broken beam, a security camera shifted.
Moved.
Deliberately.
It wasn't static. It wasn't dead.
Someone was watching her. Someone other than Luke.
Luke wasn't the true threat.
She laughed quietly under her breath, not lowering her weapon.
"You're not him," she said finally.
Luke's smile faltered just slightly. "Excuse me?"
"You talk too much," she said coldly. "The real one never did."
