Chapter 14 #2
I watched as Mila’s jaw dropped in shock. “I’m sorry, are you threatening to assault me? To rip off my clothes?” She gaped, and I didn’t blame her—my reaction couldn’t have looked much different.
The guy took another step, and the space between them shrunk. Mila’s breath grew shallow, and I could almost feel her fear radiating from where I stood.
“You flinched in pain when he touched you. Why?” he demanded, his gaze now blazing with an intensity that left no room for evasion.
Mila straightened her spine, then narrowed her eyes into slits. “It’s none of your business, Alek.” She tried to maintain her composure, but her voice betrayed a flicker of fear.
Alek’s laugh was humorless, his features taut with impatience and steel-edged resolve. “Everyone’s safety is my business today, human. Now you either tell me or you show me.”
Mila glared back, defiant but clearly cornered. “It’s nothing,” she said with attempted authority, clearly trying to mask her growing unease.
But the words were too fast, too practiced.
“Bullshit,” Alek said, unmoving. “You’re lying, and I don’t have the patience for it.”
Mila’s clenched her fists. “Why do you even care?”
Alek didn’t blink. “Five seconds, princess,” he said, his tone mocking. The nickname curled out of his mouth like a challenge, and I saw her shoulders stiffen in response.
The seconds ticked by. Mila’s focus darted nervously, every muscle in her face tight with the strain of thinking fast. Then she let out a breath—ragged and reluctant.
“I did a wax, all right?” she snapped. “And it still hurts.”
She tried to sound casual, even sarcastic, but shame had already crept into her voice. Her face was flushed, not with anger now, but with what I assumed was humiliation.
Alek blinked. “You did a wax…on your back?”
The disbelief on his face was almost ridiculous, and I would’ve laughed if Mila didn’t look like she wanted to disappear.
“Yes,” she said, a little too defensively. “I did.”
He stared at her, visibly trying to compute it, then gave a slow reluctant nod.
Without another word, he turned away.
A flicker of something caught my eye—a tattoo, only barely visible at the nape of his neck beneath his shirt. Mila saw it too. Her shoulders sagged, and I could practically hear her thoughts: Gods, I should’ve gone with a newly set tattoo instead of a wax.
She let out a sigh. Audibly.
Alek spun back around so fast, I almost missed it, his eyes once again examining her with scrutiny.
Before Mila could react, his hand shot out and struck her back—so hard, the crack of impact echoed through the street.
Her scream tore through the air—shrill, pained, unmistakably real. I gasped, my stomach lurching at the sound.
Then everything happened too fast.
He grabbed her arm—and pulled her toward a nearby building.
“Alek, stop! Let me go!” Mila cried, struggling against him.
He didn’t answer. He didn’t even look at her. Just dragged her across the cracked pavement and into the shadow of the ruins, like this was routine. Like her pain didn’t matter.
And then she was gone—swallowed by the dark. And I was standing there, helpless and horrified, as this beautiful, terrifying guy hauled her out of sight.
“Follow them,” Stephen ordered with urgency.
Without hesitation, we melted into the shadows, trailing behind Alek and Mila as they moved toward what looked like a former Roman villa.
We caught up right as they stepped into what must have once been a kitchen.
Alek shoved her ahead. “Show me,” he said—calm, cold, unmistakably in control.
Mila stumbled but didn’t answer. She just stood there, arms tight around herself, shaking her head like a kid refusing medicine.
“Now.” His voice didn’t rise. It didn’t need to. The threat was in the stillness.
Mila’s face tightened—jaw clenched, eyes glossy with unshed tears. I could see her fighting to stay upright, to stay in control, and I hated how powerless we were.
“NO!” she shouted, and shoved him back, hard.
Alek staggered a half step back, more surprised than hurt. His gaze dropped to where she’d touched him—as if he couldn’t believe she’d dared to.
Then his eyes found hers again, glaring with fresh fury.
“You have two seconds,” he hissed, his tone low and lethal, “before I check it by force.”
The following silence was suffocating.
Mila’s breath shook as she exhaled, all the fight draining out of her at once. “Fine,” she relented. “I’ll fucking show you, you creep. But you don’t tell anyone. And you don’t ask questions.”
The words trembled, but they still landed like a dare.
Alek’s lips thinned, and I watched Mila’s determined stare as she laid down her terms. “Those are my conditions,” she said, her hands slightly shaking.
“Fine,” Alek spat, his irritation evident in his tone.
I held my breath as Mila slowly turned her back to him—shoulders stiff, fists clenched at her sides. Then, with careful, deliberate movements, she lifted her shirt.
The marks were impossible to mistake.
Angry, red slashes crisscrossed her back—fresh, raw, vicious. The kind of wounds that hadn’t been there long. The kind still bleeding at the edges.
I gasped and clutched my hand over my mouth. Whoever was responsible for them, must’ve done so in the twenty-four hours prior to this moment.
Alek’s lack of response was unnerving, and the quiet stretched too long.
Mila finally lowered her shirt, but didn’t turn around.
Then his voice came, hoarse now, barely more than a command. “Pull up again.”
Without a word, Mila complied. I could see the discomfort and confusion clear on her face, but she did as she was told.
Alek’s energy burst outward—a deep, midnight-purple haze tinged with black, curling through the air like smoke.
The moment it reached her, Mila stilled. Her breath caught, and then her entire body softened, as if something inside her had unclenched. The tension she’d been holding—shoulders, jaw, fists—melted all at once.
Alek said nothing at first, only watched the wounds vanish beneath the haze. Then, finally: “Okay.” His spoke quieter now, still strained, but without the edge.
Mila turned to face him.
“It’s gone,” Alek said, dry and flat. Then turned and walked away.
She stood there, stunned. One hand slipped under her shirt, her fingers tracing the skin that should’ve still been torn open. Her face shifted—shock, disbelief, and then unmistakable relief at the absence of pain.
I watched as Mila turned her wrist, revealing a beautifully crafted golden watch. It looked luxurious, with intricate engravings spiraling around the edges, the metal catching the light just enough to hint at its value.
But as I looked closer, I noticed there was no typical watch face—only a smooth surface, subtly pulsing with faint, almost imperceptible lights.
A weird watch from the future?
Mila’s eyes were clouded with confusion as she studied it closely. After a moment, she looked up, meeting only with the oppressive darkness of the ruins she found herself in. She slowly followed Alek out the building but kept her distance from him.
“Let’s move out,” Stephen ordered, then softly pushed me toward the exit.
Walking outside again, I trailed after the men, trying to piece together what I’d seen.
“Do you understand what happened?” Stephen asked me as we walked through Cyclos’s streets.
I nodded, though the full significance of it was still eluding me. “This girl was clearly the victim of abuse, and the guy healed her.”
Stephen’s expression grew serious, a deep frown appearing. “Yes, but did you notice what Mila checked after she was healed?”
“The golden watch?” I replied, puzzled.
“It is not a watch, Emma,” Stephen said, his voice carrying a note of urgency. “It is a sensor. In the future, every human will carry one. This device will detect and register all instances of translation within its vicinity.”
My eyebrows shot up in surprise. “So humans will be able to track translation?”
He sighed deeply. “Yes, but it’s not only tracking. When we will have turned over our LiaPrisms to the humans, we will have done so to reassure them we wouldn’t use translation to harm them. We never foresaw they might turn the technology against us.”
“Against us?” I whispered. “Against us how?”
“I’ll show you. We’re going to follow Alek and Mila six months from now in what used to be New York.”
With it, Stephen conjured a new portal, its swirling depths inviting. We gathered around him, the portal's light casting its blue glow over our faces. Without hesitation, I stepped through the shimmering threshold, feeling the now familiar, cool tingle of the portal’s energy against my skin.