KAIA

He pushes to his feet with fluid grace. Blood still drips from his chin, but the injury—the fatal injury—is gone. Healed. Like I never touched him.

"Did you really think it would be that easy?" He tilts his head, studying me like I'm a particularly entertaining puzzle. "Darling, I've survived far worse than a missing heart."

He snaps his fingers.

The world fractures.

Multiple versions of him appear—surrounding me in a perfect circle. Five, ten, fifteen identical Edvards, all wearing ...