Chantal looked at Danielle. Danielle looked at Dom. And for the first time in 1,474 loops, Dom’s hand let go of the lever.
He existed in the glitches. A flickering streetlamp. A skipped second on a digital clock. A reflection in a window that moved a half-second too late.
“The anomaly is here,” Chantal gasped.
Danielle’s hand trembled. “We’ve done this before.”
“You called me,” Anom said, his voice like a radio losing signal. “The last cycle, I was the sacrifice. This time, I’m the memory. Don’t let Dom do it again.”