"Who is it?" Seb demanded, his voice cracking as he surged to his feet. His heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird.
Elara froze on the floor, her face draining of all color. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.
Damien stepped forward, his eyes filled with a grim sort of pity for his friend. He held out the paper. "It was Amara, Seb. It was always Amara."
The world around Seb seemed to dissolve. Suddenly, he wasn't in the Creed mansion anymore. He was back in a sterile hospital room, seven years ago, his body broken and wrapped in bandages.
He remembered the bitter coldness he felt when he finally woke up. He had reached for his phone, desperate to hear the voice of the woman he loved.
"Hello? Amara?" his younger self had whispered into the receiver. "My love... where have you been? You didn't even visit me. Why aren't you here?"
There had been a long silence on the other end. Then, Amara's voice, thin, strained, and sounding worlds away, had replied:
