Chapter 72: Cracks in the Illusion

Ben woke up with a start, his breath ragged, his body damp with sweat.

Something was wrong.

The sheets beside him were empty, but the warmth of a body still lingered—proof that she had been there. The thing wearing Ellie's face.

Ben raked a hand through his hair, his pulse pounding.

His dreams had been… unsettling.

He didn't remember the details, only fragments—whispers he couldn't place, a voice calling his name, begging, pleading—Ben, please, hear me.

He shut his eyes, his jaw clenching.

Why did it sound so familiar?

Why did it feel like something was clawing at the edges of his mind, trying to break through?

A rustle from the doorway made him snap his head up.

She stood there, draped in nothing but shadows, her silhouette sharp against the dim glow of the streetlights outside.

Ellie.

Or at least, the body of Ellie.

Something about the way she stared at him sent a chill down his spine.

"Couldn't sleep?" her voice was low, sultry, the way it always was these days—like honey laced with poison.

Ben swallowed, forcing himself to nod. "Yeah. Just a bad dream."

Her lips curled into a knowing smile. "A dream?" she murmured, stepping closer, the air between them thickening.

Ben felt his muscles tense.

He didn't trust this.

Didn't trust her.

Not anymore.

Because deep inside, something was screaming at him that this wasn't right.

That she wasn't right.

Ellie would have wrapped her arms around him, whispered comforting words. She wouldn't have stood there, watching him like a cat waiting to pounce.

He exhaled, rubbing at his temples.

"I think I just need some fresh air," he muttered, shifting to sit up.

But in a blink, she was in front of him, pressing a cold hand against his chest, pushing him back down.

"You don't need fresh air," she whispered, her eyes dark and unreadable. "You need me."

Ben stiffened.

There it was again—that feeling.

Wrong.

This was wrong.

She straddled him, her fingers curling around his shoulders. "Don't fight it, Ben," she purred. "You're mine now."

A shiver ran down his spine.

Mine.

Why did that sound like a warning?

Why did it feel like a threat?

His hands found her waist, and for a moment, he almost let himself believe.

Almost.

But then—

"Ben, please, hear me."

The voice.

A whisper. A desperate cry.

And this time—

He remembered.

His grip tightened. His breathing hitched.

Ellie.

His Ellie.

She was still out there.

She was still fighting.

And this thing?

This wasn't her.

His eyes snapped to the imposter, and for the first time, real terror flickered across her face.

Because she knew.

She knew that he knew.