Chapter 23: The Mask and the Flame
Night had settled over the city, casting long shadows across the apartment as Sienna shut the door behind Camille. The faint hum of streetlights filtered through the thin windows, mingling with the distant sounds of traffic—a lullaby of urban life.
"Come in, at least stay for dinner," Sienna offered brightly, motioning toward the small kitchen.
Camille shrugged off her tailored jacket with effortless grace, draping it over the back of a chair as if even that act was part of some unspoken performance. "If you're cooking, I'm staying. Can't say no to free food."
Sienna grinned and disappeared into the kitchen, the sounds of clattering dishes following her.
I lingered near the doorway, the mask still in my hand, its smooth surface cool against my fingertips. My mind wasn't on dinner.
I leaned in slightly, my voice low. "How much can we trust her?"
Sienna glanced over her shoulder, her expression softening. "Relax. Camille's always hated evaluators and the system. Says it 'stifles creativity.'" She rolled her eyes fondly. "She's anti-authority in the most dramatic way possible."
That didn't exactly ease the knot in my chest, but it was enough for now.
"Besides," Sienna added, "we haven't told her everything. She just made a mask. That's it. No need to drop apocalyptic conspiracies on her plate with dinner."
Fair point.
Still, paranoia had a way of nesting in your mind once you let it in. I gave a curt nod and turned toward my room.