"Marissa."
Marissa stood frozen, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. Her hand trembled as she held the blade, the cold steel a heavy weight in her palm.
"Mari," the shadow whispered again.
The voice was thick with pain, a low rasp that vibrated in the small room. Marissa's eyes softened instantly. The name—that specific nickname—belonged to only one person. The blade slipped from her numb fingers, hitting the floor with a sharp clank that echoed against the floorboards.
She moved closer, her breath coming in shallow gasps. She knew those eyes. Even through the slits of the dark mask, she recognized the deep, soulful brown that used to look at her with such warmth. But her mind screamed at her that it was impossible.
Am I finally losing it? she thought. Is this where my mind breaks?
