Stacy stared.
Her body froze, her breath caught between disbelief and something dangerously close to longing.
Kate stood there, bathed in warm sunlight, wearing the same cocky, lopsided smile she had flashed at Stacy a hundred times before.
Before everything fell apart.
Before Stacy had killed her.
"I knew you'd make it," Kate said again, stepping closer.
Her voice was soft, teasing—so painfully familiar.
Like nothing had changed.
Like Stacy wasn't standing in front of a ghost.
Her fingers twitched.
This wasn't real.
It couldn't be real.
But the warmth in the air, the sounds of the other recruits, the weight of her newly burned hunter's mark on her wrist—
It all felt too real.
"Kate," Stacy finally breathed.
Kate's smile widened. "You remember me."
Stacy's throat was dry. "Of course, I do."
Of course, she did.
She could never forget.