What Sleeps – Extrait 38
Her voice was sharp, tangled, a faint, desperate thread. “Kalina.” His voice was calm, but his fingers tightened, his eyes dark, watching. “Don’t do this. Don’t let it control you.” “I’m not letting it control me.” Her voice was sharp, cracking. “I’m trying to understand.” “Understand what?” His voice was sharp now, almost angry. “A ghost? A shadow? A name that never leaves?” “Yes.” Her voice was too loud, too fast. “Yes, because it’s real. Because it’s not just me. Because it’s not just a shadow.” “You’re wrong.” His voice was calm, sharp, a faint, quiet breath. “And I can’t help you if you won’t see that.” “Then don’t.” Her voice was sharp now, cracking. “Don’t help me. Don’t pretend you know. Don’t pretend you understand.” “Kalina…” His voice was a faint, quiet hum. “Please… don’t do this.” But she didn’t answer. Didn’t look back. Just turned, her feet pressing against the wet stone, her breath sharp, thin, her pulse a slow, heavy drumbeat. And she walked. Away from him. Away from his calm, quiet voice. Away from his steady, warm hand. But not away from the shadow. Because the shadow was there. Pressed against the mist. Twisting between the pale, silver light. Watching. Always watching. Andrei. Her chest tightened, the ache twisting, sharp, pressing. Her fingers were white, stiff, her breath a faint, sharp mist that twisted against the cold air. He was still there. Always there. And now she was alone. Or maybe she had always been alone. Her feet pressed against the wet stone, her breath a faint, shivering thread that curled against the mist. The rain traced silver threads against the cracked windows, the mist a pale, silver shroud that twisted between the dark, narrow streets. But the shadow was there. Always there. Pressed against the rain. Just beyond the pale, flickering light. And she needed to know. Chapter 26: The Confrontation in the Mist The rain was relentless, a silver curtain that twisted, melted, pressed against the mist that curled between the narrow, dark streets. The city was a shivering ghost, the mist a pale, twisting shroud that wrapped around the wet, cracked stone, that whispered against the iron railings. But Kalina didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. Her feet pressed against the wet cobblestones, her breath a sharp, thin mist that curled against the cold air, her pulse a slow, heavy drumbeat that filled her chest. The ache was a slow, sharp knot, a pulse that wouldn’t leave, that twisted around her thoughts like a thread she couldn’t shake. Because he was there. Not just a shadow. Not just a whisper. But a shape. A figure that moved between the mist, that twisted between the pale, silver light, that watched without speaking. Andrei. Her breath caught, the ache twisting, sharp, pressing. Her fingers were white, stiff, her pulse a slow, heavy drumbeat. But she didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. Not this time. “Wait!” Her voice was too thin, too sharp, a faint, desperate thread that slipped between the rain. “Wait, please!” The shadow didn’t stop. Didn’t turn. Just moved, his steps slow, steady, a dark shape that slipped between the mist, that melted, twisted, pressed against the pale, shivering light. But she was closer now. Her feet slapped against the wet stone, her breath sharp, tearing at her chest. The ache twisted, sharp, a knife pressing beneath her ribs. “Stop!” Her voice was sharp now, cracking. “Please… please stop!” The shadow stepped around the corner, the mist thick, the rain a faint, silver whisper that twisted against the darkness. But she didn’t stop. Her pulse was too loud, too fast, her breath a thin, sharp mist that curled against the cold air. And then she saw him. Standing beneath the pale, sickly glow of the streetlamp. Still. Silent. A dark figure pressed against the mist, his coat twisting, his face half-hidden in shadow. But his eyes were
⬅️ Extrait précédent | Extrait suivant ➡️
🔖 Labels : What Sleeps, What Sleeps – Extrait 38
No comments:
Post a Comment