Ghosts of the Past

POV: Fiona

The air in the ruined car thickened like smoke. My chest heaved, lungs burning, but it wasn't from the chase. It was her. The woman standing in front of us like she owned the night.

Lilith.

Her name hung in the space between them, crackling like static. She stepped forward, boots crunching over shattered glass, her hips swaying with a cruel kind of grace. The moonlight carved sharp shadows across her face — high cheekbones, blood-red lips, and eyes like shards of ice.

Xavier stiffened, muscles coiled tight, like he was ready to snap. His gun hung loose in his hand, but he didn't raise it. Didn't even move.

"Hello, Lilith," he muttered, voice laced with venom.

She smiled, slow and serpentine, her gaze crawling over him like a predator stalking prey. "Miss me?"