Pov Author
The door slammed shut behind them.
The chaos vanished.
No screams. No footsteps. No crashing glass.
Just silence.
Anna's breath came fast as she spun around.
Kazan stood with his back against the door, one hand still on the handle, like he was making sure it stayed closed.
He looked… calm.
Too calm.
Watching her.
Anna immediately stepped back. "Why did you bring me here?"
He didn't answer right away.
The room was dim, lit by a single low-burning lamp. Shadows stretched across the walls, cutting his face into pieces—light and dark.
"I didn't have time to ask politely," he said finally.
Her eyes narrowed. "So you drag me?"
"There was a collapse coming," he replied. "You were in the worst place to be standing."
"That wasn't your decision to make."
"No," he said, almost absently. "It wasn't."
That made her pause.
Not guilt.
Not apology.
Just… acknowledgment.
Anna's fingers curled at her sides. "Then why me?"
That question lingered between them.
Kazan frowned slightly, like he hadn't expected it.
"I saw you struggling," he said. "You were going to get crushed in that crowd."
"That's not what I meant."
His gaze sharpened.
Anna swallowed, forcing the words out. "You could've pulled anyone. There were dozens of people closer to you."
A beat.
Silence again.
"I know," he said.
Her chest tightened.
"Then why didn't you?"
Kazan didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he took a slow step forward.
Anna stepped back just as quickly.
"Stay there," she snapped.
He stopped.
But his eyes didn't leave her.
"I don't know," he said at last.
The honesty hit harder than anything else.
"What?" she whispered.
"I don't know," he repeated, quieter now. "I just… reacted."
Anna shook her head. "That doesn't make sense."
"I'm aware."
Another silence.
He studied her face—not intensely, not possessively—
But like he was trying to figure something out.
And failing.
It unsettled her more than recognition would have.
"You're looking at me like you know me," she said.
His brows pulled together faintly.
"I don't."
The answer came too quickly.
Too clean.
Anna didn't believe it.
"Then stop staring."
He didn't.
That made something cold slide down her spine.
"What?" she demanded.
Kazan hesitated.
For the first time since she'd seen him tonight—
He hesitated.
Then he exhaled softly, almost frustrated.
"There's something…" he started, then stopped.
"What?"
"I don't know how to explain it."
"Try."
Another pause.
His voice dropped slightly.
"Looking at you feels familiar."
Anna's heart stuttered.
"But I don't remember you," he added immediately, like correcting himself. "Not your face. Not your name."
Her throat tightened.
"Then what do you remember?" she asked.
He went still.
"Nothing," he said.
The word landed heavy.
"Nothing from before."
Anna stared at him.
"You're lying."
"I wish I was."
He looked at her again—longer this time.
Not recognition.
Not memory.
Something else.
Something wrong.
"You're the first thing that's felt…" he searched for the word.
"Real."
The room felt colder.
Anna took another step back until the table hit behind her.
Her pulse was loud in her ears.
"This is insane," she whispered.
"Probably."
"You don't remember anything?"
"No."
"Then stop acting like you do."
"I'm not."
"You are."
Their voices didn't rise.
But the tension did.
Sharp.
Tight.
Unstable.
Kazan took one more step forward.
Not close enough to touch—
But close enough to matter.
"I don't know who you are," he said quietly.
Anna held her breath.
"But something in me—"
He stopped.
Jaw tightening slightly.
Then finished, softer—
"—doesn't want to let you walk away."
Fear hit her fast this time.
Real.
Immediate.
"Move," she said.
He didn't.
"Kazan."
Still nothing.
For a second, neither of them moved.
The silence pressed in.
Heavy.
Then—
From somewhere deep in the palace—
Another distant crash echoed.
The world outside was still breaking.
But inside that room—
It was just the two of them.
Anna, trapped against the table.
And Lord Kazan—
Standing between her and the only way out.
The distant crash faded.
Neither of them moved toward it.
Anna's fingers found the edge of the table behind her. Wood. Solid. Anchoring.
"You said you don't remember anything," she said carefully.
Kazan inclined his head slightly. "From before the estate found me. Yes."
Anna filed that away.
"Then how do you know you're not imagining the… familiarity?"
He didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he watched her.
Too long.
His eyes moved slowly across her face. Her jaw. Her throat. Like he was checking something against a list only he could see.
"Because I've imagined things before," he said finally. "Tried to force memories. Faces. Voices." A pause. "None of them looked exactly like you."
Anna's stomach turned.
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one I have."
"Then open the door."
He didn't move toward the handle.
He didn't move at all.
"You have her cheekbones," he said quietly. "And the same line between your brows when you're angry."
Anna's blood went cold.
"I don't know who her is."
Kazan's head tilted slightly.
"No," he agreed. "You don't."
The way he said it — not sad. Not bitter.
Pleased .
Like her ignorance made this more interesting.
"What's your name again?" he asked.
She hesitated.
Something in his voice had changed. Gone softer. The way a blade softens just before it cuts.
"Why?"
"Because I want to hear if it sounds wrong."
Anna stared at him.
The lamp flickered.
Shadows crawled.
She could lie. She should lie.
But his eyes held her in place.
"...Anna," she said.
Kazan didn't blink.
Didn't react at all for three full seconds.
Then his lips curved.
Not a smile. Not quite.
A recognition.
The kind a hunter makes when he finds the right track after years of searching.
"No," he said softly. "That's not it."
He took a step forward.
Anna pushed off the table and backed toward the door.
"Move."
He didn't.
"It's close, though," he continued, like she hadn't spoken. "The shape of it. The weight." His eyes narrowed slightly. "What did you say? Anna ? "
She nodded once.
He rolled the name on his tongue, tasting it.
"No," he said again. Quieter now. Almost gentle. "You're lying."
Anna's hand found the door handle behind her.
Cold brass.
"I'm not."
"You are." He took another step. "But that's fine. You wouldn't be the first."
His voice dropped.
"Nahan lied too."
The name hit Anna like ice water.
"I don't know anyone named—"
"Yes, you do," he cut her off. "You just don't remember."
He stopped moving.
Stood perfectly still in the dim light.
Watching her.
Waiting.
"I'm not her," Anna said.
"No," Kazan agreed. "She's dead."
A beat.
"I watched her die."
Another beat.
Anna's fingers tightened on the handle.
"That sounds terrible," she said carefully.
"It was."
He didn't look terrible.
He looked hungry.
"You have her face," he said. "Her voice. The way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was afraid you did that twice since we've been in this room."
Anna's free hand froze halfway to her ear.
She hadn't realized.
Kazan smiled.
"There she is."
Anna yanked the door open.
Cold air rushed in.
"Stay away from me."
She stepped into the corridor.
Behind her, his voice followed soft. Certain. Wrong.
"I can't."
She didn't look back.
She ran.
But his last words chased her down the hall.
"You're not her. But you'll do."
---
To be continued…