Chapter 28 · Untitled Chapter

The thing wearing my mother's face stepped out of the rift like it owned the air.

I couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. Because it looked exactly like her—same tired eyes, same way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was thinking. Same faded jeans she used to wear on Saturdays when she'd make pancakes and hum off-key.

Except Mom had been dead for three years.

"Layla," it said, and the voice was hers too. Soft. A little rough around the edges, the way it got after her morning coffee. "Baby, I've been trying to reach you."

Kira's hand clamped around my wrist. "Don't. That's not her."

I knew that. I did. But my feet were already moving forward, and Kira had to yank me back hard enough that I stumbled into her. Her other hand came up to steady me, fingers pressing against my ribs, and I could feel how fast her heart was pounding through her palm.

"Layla, listen to me." Kira's voice was low, urgent, right against my ear. "The Echo feeds on grief. It's using her face because it knows that's what'll break you."

The thing tilted its head. Still smiling. "Kira Volkov. Still playing hero?"