Lara's steps slowed without her permission.
Something in her chest tightened. It wasn't attraction nor nerves. It was something else.
Like a thread had just tugged inside her ribcage. A pull. Quiet but undeniable.
The youngest Norse—Lucas —laughed at something Madeline said. And the sound hit her like an echo.
Because it was familiar, too familiar. Her pulse skipped. Why does that sound like—
She didn't finish the thought.
She couldn't. It made no sense.
Lucas looked up and their eyes met.
Time didn't stop. It thinned.
The noise around her dulled, like she'd slipped underwater. For a second, she felt like she was looking into a distorted mirror.
There were similarities in their features, and there was something about him close enough that unsettled her.
The same sharpness around the eyes, even though the color was different. The same quiet watchfulness. The same habit of observing before moving.
