Chapter 3: No Easy Outs

The air was sharp with winter, the sky a flat sheet of gray. Everything about this world felt like it could cut you if you weren’t careful.

The system’s hundreds of warnings weren’t wrong.

The second I tried to catch a glimpse of James Donovan from afar, his burly bodyguards spotted me.

Their approach was silent, practiced—a warning in every footstep. My pulse jumped, but my body was too slow, still lagging behind my fear.

James was dressed in black, a long coat thrown over his shoulders, standing by the elementary school entrance waiting for his son to be dismissed.

His figure was all hard edges and shadow, a presence that seemed to bend the cold around him. The schoolyard was emptying, children’s laughter echoing off brick, but he stood apart, untouchable even in a crowd.

He didn’t even glance my way.

I waited for some sign that he’d seen me—anything. But his attention was locked elsewhere, as if my existence was just background noise.

I looked at the sharp, cold lines of his profile, and a strange, uncontrollable emotion welled up in my chest.

It was a feeling without a name, something that twisted in my chest. I pressed a hand to my heart, as if I could steady it, but the ache only grew sharper.

It made me so sad I almost wanted to cry.

I blinked, fighting the sting in my eyes. It was ridiculous to mourn a stranger, but the sadness was real, ancient, as if I’d lost something precious and couldn’t remember what.

I was dazed, lost in the moment, and didn’t notice the bodyguards closing in.

The world narrowed to the sound of boots on concrete, the scrape of a jacket against brick. I barely had time to brace myself before pain exploded through my side.

They shoved me hard against a brick wall, pain shooting through my side.

The cold wall bit into my cheek. My breath came in shallow gasps, each one burning. I tasted blood, sharp and metallic, and for a second I wondered if I’d ever felt anything else.

One of the guards glared at me, his voice low and threatening: “If you don’t belong here, stop staring.”

His words were low, meant to frighten. I looked up, searching his face for mercy, but found only irritation—a job done, nothing personal.

He shot a cold glance at my crumpled figure on the ground. “If there’s a next time, it won’t end this easily.”

The threat hung in the air, heavy and real. I nodded, not trusting my voice, and watched his boots retreat, leaving me small and crumpled on the ground.

I clutched at the rough, icy sidewalk, the taste of copper in my mouth, blinking back tears. My vision blurred; the shouts of kids and the distant blare of a car horn faded into white noise. Only their threat lingered, heavy as winter sleet on my skin.

Colors bled at the edges. I pressed my palm to the icy sidewalk, willing myself not to cry. The city’s noise faded, replaced by the roar of blood in my ears. I was invisible again, just another casualty nobody would remember.