The world stilled.
Gunpowder still hung faintly in the air, burned metal and blood mixing with the salt from the docks. Engines hummed softly, headlights slicing through morning fog. And yet — no one moved.
Because in the middle of that wreckage, between Marcus De Luca and the crumpled remains of chaos, stood a little girl.
Her shoes were dusty. Her hair tangled. Her cheeks streaked with tears.
And when Marcus and Sofia turned fully toward her, every breath in the air seemed to vanish.
Sofia's hand went limp at her side. "Marcus…" she whispered.
He couldn't even answer.
Because the child — that small, trembling creature standing before them — looked exactly like Sofia's reflection eight years ago. The same caramel-brown hair, the same shape of lips, even the same faint dimple beneath her left cheek. Her eyes — those unmistakable De Luca eyes, green with a halo of gold — stared right back at them.
