The gunman hesitated for half a second.
That was his mistake.
Cassian didn't.
The first shot was clean.
Efficient.
Between the eyes.
The masked man dropped before his finger could fully tighten on the trigger.
The sound ricocheted through the corridor like a crack in reality.
My ears rang.
My body froze.
Cassian moved like this was muscle memory.
Like violence was choreography.
He stepped forward, pushing me behind the marble pillar near the wall.
"Safety off," he said coldly.
I stared at the weapon in my hand.
My hands were shaking.
But not from fear.
From recognition.
Last time, I never had a weapon.
Last time, I trusted him.
And I died unarmed.
Footsteps thundered down the hallway.
Three more shadows.
Cassian didn't wait.
Two precise shots.
One body fell.
The other two scattered.
Return fire exploded through the corridor.
Marble chipped.
Glass shattered.
A bullet sliced past my shoulder and embedded into the wall behind me.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
This isn't a memory.
This is new.
This did not happen in my previous life.
Cassian crouched beside me, his expression focused, lethal.
"They're not here for the guests," he muttered. "They're here for you."
The words iced through my veins.
"Why?"
He didn't answer.
He leaned out and fired again.
Another scream.
Silence.
Then—
A voice echoed from the far end of the corridor.
Distorted.
Calm.
"Mr. Thorne. Step away from her."
Cassian stilled.
That was new.
In my past life, there were no masked men on our wedding night.
There was no attack.
There was only slow destruction.
Political.
Strategic.
Calculated.
This—
This was immediate.
Aggressive.
Wrong.
Cassian stood slowly, gun still raised.
"I was wondering how long it would take you to show your face," he called evenly.
The masked man at the end of the corridor removed his hood.
Mid-forties.
Sharp features.
Silver at the temples.
Eyes that felt like knives.
I knew that face.
But I didn't.
Memory flickered but refused to settle.
"Elara Vale," the man said smoothly, looking directly at me. "Or should I say… you remember."
My lungs stopped working.
Cassian shifted slightly in front of me.
Possessive.
Protective.
"Say another word," Cassian warned softly, "and I'll end you here."
The man smiled faintly.
"You already tried that once."
The hallway went silent.
My pulse thundered.
Once?
Cassian's jaw tightened.
The man's gaze never left me.
"It's disorienting, isn't it?" he continued. "Waking up at the beginning."
My fingers went numb around the gun.
Beginning.
This isn't just me.
They remember too.
Cassian spoke without looking at me.
"Get behind me. If I say run, you run."
"I'm not running blind again," I shot back.
The silver-haired man's eyes gleamed.
"There it is. She's different this time."
This time.
This time.
This time.
The words echoed like fractures in my skull.
"What do you want?" I demanded.
His smile widened slightly.
"You."
Simple.
Direct.
Cold.
"Why?" I whispered.
He tilted his head.
"Because you don't belong to him."
Cassian fired.
The man moved impossibly fast.
The bullet shattered a chandelier instead.
Sparks rained down.
Gunfire erupted again from the shadows.
Cassian grabbed my wrist.
"Move."
We ran.
Not toward the ballroom.
Toward the private stairwell leading to the rooftop helipad.
My wedding dress tangled around my legs.
He didn't slow down.
Neither did I.
Behind us—
Boots.
Voices.
The silver-haired man speaking calmly into a comm device.
"She's active. Termination authorized."
Termination.
The word punched through my ribs.
Cassian slammed the stairwell door shut and locked it.
He turned to me.
Breathing steady.
Eyes dark.
"You need to listen carefully."
"Start explaining," I snapped.
"No time."
He grabbed my shoulders.
His grip firm.
Grounding.
"They're not politicians. They're not assassins."
"Then what are they?"
He hesitated.
Just a fraction.
"They're the ones who control the resets."
My brain short-circuited.
Resets.
"You think this is reincarnation?" I demanded. "Destiny? Karma?"
He shook his head once.
"No. It's design."
The word hollowed me out.
"Every twenty years," he continued, "a correction is made. An event that stabilizes global power structures."
I stared at him.
"You're saying my death was—"
"A calibration."
My stomach flipped violently.
"No."
"Yes."
"No," I repeated, stepping back. "You testified against me. You pulled the trigger."
His voice dropped.
"They forced my hand."
Rage flared.
"You expect me to believe that?"
His eyes flashed.
"I expected you to remember more."
The words sliced through me.
More?
Before I could respond—
The stairwell door exploded inward.
Metal tore.
Smoke filled the air.
Cassian shoved me behind him and fired blindly through the haze.
Screams.
Return shots.
Concrete splintering.
He pulled me up the stairs two at a time.
We burst onto the rooftop.
Cold night air slammed into my lungs.
The city stretched endlessly below.
The helicopter wasn't there.
Cassian stopped.
That was the first time I saw it.
Not fear.
Not panic.
Something worse.
A miscalculation.
The rooftop access door creaked open behind us.
The silver-haired man stepped out slowly.
Unarmed now.
Composed.
Almost bored.
"You really thought you could outrun the cycle?" he asked.
Cassian stepped in front of me again.
"This doesn't have to repeat," Cassian said.
"It always repeats."
The man's eyes slid to me.
"You are the variable."
My chest tightened.
"What does that mean?"
He studied me like a specimen.
"In every reset, you resist longer."
I felt sick.
"In every reset," he continued, "he tries to save you."
My world tilted.
Cassian didn't speak.
Didn't deny it.
Didn't confirm it.
The man's voice softened slightly.
"In the last cycle, you lasted six months."
Six months.
That was how long I survived after the wedding.
"In the one before that, three."
My stomach dropped.
Before that?
Before that.
How many times have I died?
I looked at Cassian.
"Tell me."
He didn't.
That silence told me everything.
The silver-haired man stepped closer.
"The system corrects instability. Power must consolidate. Sacrifices are required."
"And I'm the sacrifice?" I whispered.
"Yes."
The simplicity was suffocating.
"Why me?"
His gaze sharpened.
"Because you are the only one he chooses."
The words hit like lightning.
Cassian's voice cut through the air.
"Enough."
The man ignored him.
"You are not random, Elara. You are his weakness."
I looked at Cassian.
He looked away.
That hurt more than the gunfire.
"You said you loved me," I said quietly.
He met my eyes.
"I do."
The silver-haired man smiled faintly.
"And that is precisely why she must die."
He raised his hand.
Snipers appeared across nearby rooftops.
Red dots scattered across Cassian's chest.
Across mine.
Cassian moved instantly—
Pulling me behind him.
Shielding me again.
Just like before.
Just like the night I died.
Rage exploded through me.
No.
Not again.
Not like this.
I stepped around him.
Before he could stop me—
I raised the gun.
And pointed it at the silver-haired man.
The rooftop fell silent.
Even the snipers hesitated.
"You said I last longer every time," I said steadily.
His eyes gleamed.
"Yes."
"Then let's change the pattern."
And I pulled the trigger.
The shot echoed across the skyline.
The man staggered.
Blood blooming across his shirt.
But he didn't fall.
He laughed.
Actually laughed.
"You finally remembered."
Cold horror flooded me.
Remembered what?
My head split with sudden, violent pain.
Flashes—
A room underground.
A table of ten men.
My voice saying—
"If I die, reset it."
Cassian screaming my name.
My signature on a contract written in blood.
I stumbled.
The gun slipping from my hand.
The silver-haired man's voice blurred.
"You initiated the first cycle."
No.
No, that's impossible.
"You asked us to build the system."
My knees hit the concrete.
Cassian caught me before I fell.
His arms wrapped around me.
Tight.
Desperate.
"You weren't supposed to remember this soon," he muttered.
My vision blurred.
"You killed me because I told you to," I whispered.
His silence confirmed it.
"And every time," he said quietly, pressing his forehead to mine, "I try to break the contract."
Sirens wailed in the distance.
The silver-haired man pressed a hand to his bleeding side.
"You can't break what she created."
Created.
I created this.
I created the machine that kills me.
Cassian lifted his gun again.
This time aiming at the man's head.
"If she dies again," Cassian said coldly, "I will dismantle every pillar you stand on."
The man smiled faintly.
"You said that in the third reset too."
My breathing turned shallow.
How many times have we done this?
How many versions of us exist?
The red sniper dots steadied again.
Locked.
The man's voice softened.
"Elara. The system exists because you feared what Cassian would become without balance."
Balance.
Fear.
Power.
Memory cracked open—
Cassian covered in blood.
Cities burning.
Governments collapsing.
Me standing before ten men and saying—
"Then build something that can stop him."
I gasped.
This isn't about sacrificing me.
It's about containing him.
Cassian looked down at me.
And for the first time—
He looked afraid of me.
Because if I built the system—
I can destroy it.
The silver-haired man stepped back toward the stairwell.
"You have three days before the correction window stabilizes."
My heart thudded violently.
"If she is alive when it closes," he continued, "the reset fails."
"And?" Cassian demanded.
"And he becomes unstoppable."
The snipers vanished as quickly as they appeared.
The rooftop fell silent.
Wind howled across the city.
Cassian pulled me to my feet.
"You need to choose," he said quietly.
"Choose what?"
His eyes were darker than I'd ever seen.
"Whether you want to save the world."
His grip tightened.
"Or save me."
Below us, the city lights flickered.
Like something unstable beneath its surface.
And somewhere deep inside my fractured memory—
I remembered the final clause of the contract.
If the creator survives the correction window—
The system collapses permanently.
And the man it was designed to restrain—
Rules without limit.
I looked at Cassian.
The man I loved.
The man I built a prison for.
The man who killed me to protect the world from himself.
Three days.
If I live…
The world burns.
If I die..
The cycle resets.
And this time
I don't know which option is more terrifying.
End of Chapter Two.