Chapter 17
The city lights flickered below, casting a soft orange glow across the streets that never seemed to sleep. I perched atop the balcony of our safehouse, my black gloves clasped tightly around my fingers. Every time I looked at the skyline, I couldn't help but feel the weight of my existence—the delicate balance between being human and being a weapon.
"Morana?" Athanasius's voice came from behind me, quiet but commanding.
I turned, letting the dim light of the balcony catch his features. "Hi," I said softly. My voice sounded small, even to me.
"You're tense," he remarked, stepping closer but keeping a careful distance. I could see the way his emerald eyes studied me, as if measuring my pulse, my energy... my soul.
"I... I just want to make sure I'm ready," I admitted, looking
