Thirty minutes passed.
Sera lay limp against Alex's chest, drenched in sweat, her breath shallow, her voice hoarse. This time, it felt different. The silence that followed was thick, weighted with something neither of them spoke aloud.
After a long pause, Sera finally whispered, "Logan and others… they won't die, right?"
Only now, after everything, did she wonder if she had gone too far. The memory of them—beaten, broken, barely recognizable—played in her mind like a ghostly afterimage.
Alex smirked, his fingers tracing lazily along her damp skin. His voice was light, teasing, almost mocking. "Feeling bad for them?"
Sera barely blinked. "No." Her expression remained disturbingly innocent, almost childlike. "We agreed from the start—make him wish he were dead."
Alex leaned back slightly, running a hand down his face. Guess I'm the naive one here.
Just then, a system notification flashed before his eyes.
