Accept her plan and start packing essentials to leave for the campus lab

"Your plan makes sense," you say, moving quickly to gather what few possessions you have. "I'll head to the campus lab and meet you there by noon."

Lina nods, her eyes already taking on that distant focus that precedes transformation. "Good. Don't wait for me if I'm not there by 12:30. It means something's gone wrong."

As you stuff Jane's old backpack with the piezoelectric device and lead helmet, Lina steps into the center of the living room. Her movements become deliberate, almost ritualistic. Without warning or preamble, she reaches for the hem of her university t-shirt and pulls it over her head in one fluid motion.

Her breasts spill free, smaller than in her diamond form but perfectly shaped, the dusky nipples tightening in the cool apartment air. She doesn't look at you as she hooks her thumbs into the waistband of her sweatpants and pushes them down her hips, stepping out of them with surprising grace.

Completely naked now, she stands before you, **** and human. Her body is a mirror of Jane's—the gentle curve of her waist, the constellation of three freckles on her left hip that you used to trace with your fingertip. But the determined set of her jaw, the cold purpose in her eyes—those belong solely to Lina.

"Turn around," she says softly. "The transformation isn't pretty."

You don't turn. You can't. This might be the last time you see her—either of you could die in the next few hours. The weight of that possibility holds you in place, eyes fixed on her naked form.

Lina meets your gaze, something unspoken passing between you. She doesn't insist.

"Remember," she says, her voice already taking on a strange resonance, "noon at the lab. If I'm not there—"

Her words cut off as her body begins to change. A ripple passes across her skin like mercury flowing over glass. Her face contorts in a brief expression of agony, teeth clenched against a scream. Her limbs elongate, her breasts swell dramatically, her hair lightening to a platinum white that seems to glow from within.

The transformation lasts only seconds, but they stretch like hours. When it completes, Diamond Girl stands before you—six feet tall, voluptuous, her crystal skin catching the morning light and fracturing it into countless rainbows across the apartment walls. Her eyes, now glowing blue orbs without pupil or iris, lock onto yours.

"I'll find you," she says, her voice deeper, smoother than Lina's—like velvet wrapped around steel.

Then, without another word, she raises one diamond hand and *blip*—vanishes. The air rushes to fill the vacuum where she stood, creating a soft popping sound that echoes in the suddenly empty apartment.

You stand alone, the backpack half-packed in your hands, staring at the empty space where she was. The scent of ozone lingers, sharp and electric. You **** yourself to move, knowing that every second counts now.

Within minutes, you've gathered everything useful—the lead helmet, the piezoelectric device, a notebook with your hastily scrawled formulations. You check the apartment one last time, ensuring you're leaving no obvious traces of your presence, then slip out the door.

The hallway is deserted, the building quiet with the ordinary Monday-morning emptiness of people gone to work and school. You take the stairs rather than the elevator, paranoia making you avoid security cameras.

Outside, the bright morning sun feels obscenely cheerful against the weight of what's happening. You flag down a passing taxi, sliding into the back seat with your meager possessions clutched to your chest.

"Campus science building," you tell the driver, a middle-aged man with a graying beard who barely glances at you in the rearview mirror.

As the taxi pulls away from Jane's apartment building, you can't help looking back, wondering if you'll ever see it again. Wondering if you'll ever see Lina again. The compound you injected her with should protect her, but Marco's men are resourceful, and they have your notes now.

The city slides past the taxi windows, people going about their ordinary lives, unaware of the war being waged in their shadows—a war that started with the **** of a girl who discovered too much, and might end with the **** of her twin sister, or the man who loved her, or both.