The knife gleamed beneath the chandelier light, casting thin streaks of silver onto the wall as the woman stepped forward.
Aurora backed up instinctively, her bare feet cold against the marble.
"I asked you a question," Aurora said, her voice steadier than she felt. "Who are you?"
The woman's smirk didn't reach her eyes. "I'm the one Rafael used up. The one he broke." She tilted her head. "And you… you're the one he replaced me with."
Aurora's heart thudded wildly.
She took in the woman's features. The high cheekbones, full lips, the long dark hair. Not identical to hers—but enough that it was eerie. Like Rafael had sought out a ghost and dressed it in new skin.
"You were with him?" Aurora asked, trying to stall, to understand.
The woman laughed coldly. "I was his. Just like you think you are now. But when he was finished… he didn't let go. He never lets go. I escaped. Barely."
The blade trembled in her hand.
