Whispers in the Smoke

The past isn't just returning it's bleeding into the present. And as Ava's mind begins to crack open, the truth won't wait for her to be ready.

The room was still.

Too still.

Ava could hear the faint buzz of the city beyond the boarded-up windows, but inside the safehouse, everything was breathless taut with the invisible thread of danger.

Eleanor checked the hallway again, then stepped back inside. "I think whoever was out there is gone. For now."

"For now?" Liam echoed sharply. "That's not comforting."

Eleanor gave him a look. "You think any of this is supposed to be comforting?"

Ava stood by the window, arms crossed tightly. She could still hear the sound of the glass shattering, still feel the vibration in the floor when something or someone had slammed against the wall.

But that wasn't the only thing echoing in her mind.

Vincent Hale.

A name she hadn't heard in this life, but now it whispered through her blood like smoke curling through a locked door. Unseen. Uninvited. Unstoppable.

"He was close to me," she said out loud, as though testing the memory. "Vincent. He was there… the night it happened."

Eleanor didn't speak, but Ava could see the shift in her expression. She knew something.

"I need to remember," Ava said suddenly, turning toward the older woman. "Really remember. All of it."

Eleanor hesitated. "Once you open that door, Ava, you don't get to close it again."

"I don't care."

Liam moved closer. "Are you sure?"

"I can't fight shadows if I don't even know where the light switch is." Her voice trembled, but her resolve didn't.

That night, Eleanor gave her a room alone.

"It might come in pieces," she warned. "Your mind might fight it."

"I'm ready," Ava said, though part of her wasn't sure she meant it.

Eleanor placed a cold silver key in her hand. "This was yours. From the old life. You'll know what to do when the time is right."

Ava couldn't sleep.

The moment she closed her eyes, her chest tightened like someone was pulling a thread through her lungs.

And then 

Darkness.

Then light.

A ballroom. Chandeliers glittering above her. Her dress a deep red silk, draped over her shoulder like royalty.

She was Isabella now.

And everyone was watching her.

Not watching them.

Vincent stood across the room, smiling with his lips but not his eyes. Liam no, not Liam, but a version of him stood behind a pillar, half-hidden, his jaw clenched.

Her heart pounded in both lives at once.

She moved toward him, weaving through the guests.

Then

A gunshot.

Screams. Shattering glass. Chaos.

She turned toward the sound and saw Vincent, arm outstretched. Smoke curling from the barrel of a small silver pistol.

She collapsed. Not from pain but from the realization.

He hadn't missed.

He'd aimed for her.

And someone else had taken the bullet.

Ava shot up in bed, drenched in sweat.

Liam was already beside her, holding her shoulders. "You're okay. You're here."

"I remember." Her voice cracked. "It was a party. A fundraiser or something. Vincent… he …..he shot someone."

Liam frowned. "Who?"

Ava's eyes widened. "You. Or… the man you were. You were trying to protect me." She reached for her throat, like she could still feel the blood pounding. "You died. Because of me."

Liam didn't flinch. "And now we've got a second chance."

But Ava shook her head slowly.

"No, Liam. That's the problem." She stared at him, tears sliding down her face. "What if this time… they come for you again?"