Dexter took a slow step forward. His breath was steady, his hands loose at his sides, but every instinct screamed at him to prepare for a fight.
Because this wasn't Elena.
Not the sister he had raised.
Not the stubborn girl who had defied the Hunter Society at every turn.
Not even the reckless fighter who had thrown herself into battle without a second thought.
This was something else.
Something cold.
Something wrong.
Her crimson eyes locked onto his, sharp and empty.
And then—she smiled.
Dexter's stomach tightened.
"Elena." His voice was controlled, careful. "You recognize me, don't you?"
Silence.
Her smile didn't falter.
Dexter took another step closer. "Elena, it's me."
No reaction. Not even a flicker of recognition.
Just that smile. Slow. Unfeeling.
Trevor groaned from behind him, rubbing his temples as he got to his feet.