The face I saw was one that haunted me. It was Mark's.
He stepped forward, emerging from the shadows of the warehouse entrance.
Milan tensed immediately. His body shifted, subtly positioning himself between me and the Mark. His sharp eyes scanned Mark, his fingers curling slightly at his sides. He wasn't taking any chances.
But Mark… Mark wasn't panicking.
He wasn't aggressive, either.
Instead, he was smiling.
Not a cocky smirk or a forced grin—just a simple, almost relaxed expression. Like he had found something mildly amusing.
"Mark," I said, testing the name.
Mark's brow furrowed, as if confused. Then, just as quickly, his expression returned to normal. He let out a quiet chuckle, tilting his head slightly.
"Oh yeah," he said, voice light, almost playful. "That's the name I had, wasn't it?"
His tone was off. Detached. Like the words didn't hold weight.
Then, just as easily, he brushed them aside.
"…Not that it means anything to me."
Something cold settled in my chest.
