Chapter 35
The night was unusually quiet, almost too quiet for the city’s heart. Streetlights flickered intermittently, casting long, distorted shadows along the alleyways we used as our escape route. Athanasius and I moved silently, our footsteps synchronized like an unspoken rhythm. Even in the dim light, I could feel his presence behind me, that magnetic pull that kept me grounded—and dangerously aware.
Portgas and Viveron had gone ahead, clearing the path and ensuring no Hydra patrols lay in wait. But Athanasius stayed close. Not touching, of course—he never would—but just enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from him. My gloves tingled, a subtle reminder of the lethal edge I carried at all times.
“Morana,” he whispered, voice low and rough from the adrenaline, “you’re… too
