Her finger hovered over the trigger.
The door swung open, light spilling into the room.
Andrei stepped inside, his shadow stretching across the floor.
Behind him stood another figure, their face obscured by the darkness.
Suzanne's breath hitched as recognition dawned.
It couldn't be.
"Hello, sister," Diana's voice whispered, cold and unfamiliar.
Suzanne's grip on the revolver faltered, her breath shallow as she struggled to make sense of what she was seeing. Her mind raced, a cacophony of confusion and disbelief crashing against the walls of her sanity.
"Diana?" she whispered, her voice trembling.
The figure stepped forward, out of the shadows, and into the dim light of the room. It was her sister—her face unmistakable, though colder, harder, and devoid of the warmth Suzanne had once known.
