Zayne POV

“Sometimes survival feels like betrayal.”

The rain hadn’t stopped since dawn. It fell like it was judgment day—cold, steady, and endless.

We stood at the edge of the flooded canal, the air thick with rot and silence.

The place still smelled of smoke, of burning metal and things you can’t quite name.

The box in front of us wasn’t heavy. It didn’t have to be. There was nothing inside it but the illusion of closure: a folded scarf Tatiana used to wear, a silver ring we’d ...