Chapter 88. The Softest Knife

“You were never supposed to taste freedom,” the voice whispered—soft, intimate, like the memory of a lover’s touch.

Harper froze in the dim glow of Forge Tower’s media alcove, the echo of those words rippling through her like a pulse she didn’t recognize. It was Knox’s voice first she expected to hear, but instead it was Selene’s: cool, precise, and imbued with something dangerously personal.

He was already there, stepping out of the shadows. Midnight sheen of his tailored suit, jaw unclenched only when he spoke:

“Harper…”

She didn’t turn. Instead, she slid her hand behind her, closing the alcove doors. The lights dropped low, isolation pressing around them.

“Selene,” Harper breathed, voice clipped like an oath.

Knox frowned—barely audible. “What was that?”

She didn’t answer. Not yet.

Selene stepped forward, hands open as if surrendering, but her smile held neither apology nor warmth. Instead, it shimmered with confidence—too calm for