"Body exchange." She voiced the words with utter acceptance, though even as she spoke them, her voice carried a tremor she could not suppress.
She felt it—first as a whisper beneath her skin, then as a quake. Her body vibrated, trembling not only in her flesh but in the air around her, as if the world itself had caught her rhythm. Vibrating to change. Vibrating to loosen. Vibrating to replace.
And replaced it did.
A sudden lightness, as though the cords that tethered her consciousness to bone and blood had been severed. The sensation was not pain but surrender, like a deep slumber wrapping its arms around her. Her lashes lowered. She closed her eyes—not in fear, not in resistance, but in a strange, perilous submission.
"Aiden…" she whispered his name, and the syllables were soft as a confession.
