I remember the rain.
It wasn't the cold that night that killed me.
It was the laughter.
Their laughter.
As I bled. As I begged.
As I broke.
I remember the way Lena looked at me, eyes void of the love I thought was real.
"You thought you mattered?" she had said, her gun cold against my chest. "You were always the fool."
And when they walked away—Darin, my brother. Hasker, my mentor. Lena, my first love—I realized something far worse than death:
I was never part of their story.
I was just a piece.
A tool.
A sacrifice.
And then… I died.
---
But death was merciful.
Because it gave me something I never had before:
Clarity.
When I opened my eyes again, I was seventeen.
Back at the beginning.
This time, I won't love.
I won't trust.
And I sure as hell won't beg.
They killed the fool.
Now… they'll meet the monster.
---