Theo's P.O.V
What the hell did she just say?
Hearing her spit out that nonsense in a cramped, unfamiliar place like this felt like someone whispering a death sentence right in my ear. My whole body froze. Not just my back, my lungs forgot how to breathe. That fragile sense of safety I'd been clinging to for the last five minutes shattered instantly under the stare of this stranger.
I tried to swallow, but my throat was bone-dry.
"Wh–who are you?" My voice cracked, rough, almost breaking apart.
She didn't answer right away. Just tilted her head, slow and deliberate, like she was studying some defective specimen under a microscope. The perfume that had seemed expensive a moment ago now felt suffocating, too sweet, too heavy, making my stomach churn.
"Oh, that doesn't matter," she said casually. She lifted her gloved hand, touched her chin with this graceful little motion, like she was deciding what to order for dinner. "What matters is that you know who you are, Theodore Rainer."
