Chapter 27 Between Betrayals And Torn Skirts

• “Zoe, you have to see this!” Verona shouted from the command room.
• I emerged wrapped only in the sheet, still tasting Dante on my lips and feeling his hunger on my skin. He followed behind, half-dressed, torso bare, gun in hand—like a war god dragged into the present by fury. He still smelled of sex, dried blood, and broken promises.
• The screen projected my face. But it wasn’t me. It was a monstrous, cruel, impossible version of me. An AI-generated video where I coldly execute three unarmed scientists. One by one, bullets pierce defenseless bodies, while my face—this manufactured version—remains impassive, inhuman.