HADES
My breath caught.
No.
No, no, no.
I stood so fast the world tilted. The blood drained from my face, my lungs refused to open. I stumbled toward the bathroom—threw the door open like she might be there, brushing her teeth, frowning at the mirror the way she always did.
Nothing.
I spun toward the closet. Yanked the doors open.
Empty.
Not entirely—but just enough. A shirt. Her boots. Gone.
Gone.
My knees buckled against the frame. I braced myself with a hand on the floor, heaving, trying to suck air into lungs that had collapsed beneath a single word:
Goodbye.
"No," I rasped. "No, no, no, no—"
—You did this.
The Flux slithered through my ribs. Not loud. Not yet. But present.
You always do this.
I staggered back, ran. Out of the suite. Down the corridor.
I didn't even remember pulling the door open. I just remembered screaming.
"EVE!"
My voice echoed down the long white hallways like a curse I couldn't take back.
