Now that he thought about it, something didn't sit right.
The clones.
They'd fallen too fast.
Too easily.
Not that they weren't capable.
Each one had moved with lethal grace—mirroring the real Alex down to the timing of his steps and the weight of his gaze.
But during his fight with Sylen, those same clones had lasted until Alex dismissed them.
Fought harder.
Pushed back even under heavy pressure.
So why now?
Why had they crumbled with so little effort?
Malik's lips curled into a slow scowl.
Because they were meant to.
The thought landed with a thud in his mind—cold and heavy.
They hadn't come to win.
They'd come to distract.
His instincts screamed at him to be careful. To look beyond the surface. To find the real danger.
But there was still one clone left.
He sensed it.
Malik could feel it drawing close, and even though he knew it was bait—knew the real Alex could be waiting anywhere—he couldn't ignore it. Couldn't afford to.
