It had been weeks since we crossed paths again. Neither of us made an effort to close the distance. The silence between us lingered, thick and unmoving, a ghost of something neither of us wanted to acknowledge.


    "Class dismissed."


    The instructor’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. I blinked, realizing I’d barely processed a single word of today’s lesson.


    I was sitting in the astrology lecture hall, my last class of the day. The room was vast, lined with arched glass windows that reflected the faint glow of enchanted star charts floating above the professor’s desk. Celestial maps flickered with shifting constellations, but I barely glanced at them as I packed up my things.


    The professor was young, awkward, and timid, the type you’d expect to find buried in the academy library instead of leading a classroom. His passive nature made it easy to slack off, and my grades had started slipping because of it. Not that I cared.


    Outside, the corridors buzzed with the usual excitement. Tomorrow was Rem Day—a week-long festival celebrating the defeat of the warlord Rem and the rise of the city’s golden age. Remfall would be in full celebration, draped in banners, with nobles hosting extravagant feasts and parades rolling through the city streets.


    To me? It was just time off.


    I was weaving my way through the flood of students when I heard someone call my name.


    "Serrani, can we talk for a minute?"


    I turned, surprised to see Dorian Shadsly standing behind me. His stance was confident, but his expression held something unfamiliar—hesitation. His eyes flickered with something measured, as if he was bracing himself for something uncertain.


    Since our first day in combat class, no one had managed to dethrone him as the best fighter. He was an enigma…quiet, unreadable, detached. I had never expected him to seek me out.


    I nodded, following him as he led me outside into one of the academy’s stone-paved courtyards. The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the marble pillars. A faint breeze rustled the ivy lining the archways, but the tension in the air between us was far heavier.


    Dorian hesitated, staring at the ground before meeting my gaze.


    "Are you… involved with anyone?"


    The words hit like a misplaced punch, knocking me slightly off balance.


    I blinked at him, trying to process what I had just heard. His expression remained unreadable, but his eyes—sharp and focused—stayed on me.


    "I just... I’ve never seen you with anyone." His voice was steady, but there was something uncertain underneath. "I was curious."


    I exhaled slowly. My pulse had picked up for reasons that had nothing to do with his question.


    "I—" I faltered, swallowing the lump in my throat. "There was someone. Someone important."


    I hesitated. Saying his name felt like reopening an old wound that had never fully healed.


    "He’s... gone now."


    Dorian’s gaze softened, just a little. "I see."


    The weight of my past pressed heavy against my ribs. Eight years. It had been eight years since Jack was taken from me. Since Ev left him behind. Since my world splintered apart. But grief doesn’t care about time—it lingers, festers, waits in the quiet moments to remind you of what you’ve lost.


    "I can’t let him go. Not yet," I admitted, voice quieter than before.


    Dorian nodded, as if that answer was enough. "I didn’t mean to bring up anything painful."


    I forced a smile, though it felt brittle. "You didn’t know. It’s fine."


    Silence stretched between us. It wasn’t uncomfortable, just… heavy.


    Then, after a beat, he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Maybe we could just be friends, then?"


    I blinked.


    "Friends?" The word felt strange in my mouth, unfamiliar.


    He shrugged. "I haven’t exactly made many connections here."


    I almost laughed at the absurdity of it. Dorian Shadsly, the strongest fighter in our class, the cold, untouchable mystery, claiming to be alone?


    Then again, who was I to judge? I hadn’t made any real friends either.


    I studied him for a moment longer before nodding. "Yeah… I don’t see why not."


    His shoulders eased, a small, almost boyish smile crossing his lips. It was the first time I’d seen him look anything other than serious.


    "See you after the break, then?"


    "See you then."


    He turned, walking off with that same poised confidence, but this time, it felt less guarded.


    I watched him go, my heart fluttering before sinking like a stone. Jack still held a place in my heart, a place no one could ever touch. But for the first time in a long time, it didn’t feel like a weight.


    I pushed the thought aside as I returned to my dorm. It didn’t take long to gather my things, and before I knew it, I was stepping onto the trolley heading home.


    The operator’s face tightened when I told him my stop was D6. Not many people asked to get off near D—too close to Purgatory. Too close to the edge of civility, where the streets bled into something harsher, uglier.


    I didn’t care.


    I leaned against the trolley’s cold window, watching the city blur past in streaks of gold and iron. The hum of the engine faded into the background as my thoughts slipped backward, pulling me into a memory I had spent years trying to forget.


    Where is he?


    I paced the length of the backroom at Lock and Key, my boots scuffing against the rough wooden floor. The tavern was packed tonight, the noise spilling in from the front—laughter, shouts, the heavy clatter of mugs against tables. Through the walls, I could hear the low thrum of music from the streets outside. The concert was about to start. Excitement buzzed in the air.


    But not for me.


    I crossed my arms, leaning back against the wall, eyes fixed on the door. Jack was late. Again.


    I had spent more time getting ready than I’d ever admit. Usually, my clothes were practical, built for slipping through Purgatory’s streets unnoticed. But tonight? Tonight was different. A dark, fitted jacket with silver buttons, paired with a high-collared blouse that hugged my frame just right. My boots, polished but worn, tapped impatiently against the floor. It was stupid to care. I knew that. But tonight was supposed to be special—a rare night where I didn’t have to be Serrani of Purgatory. Just... Serrani, and I could finally tell Jack how I felt about him.


    He is always late. But never this late.


    My heart thudded harder, anxiety prickling beneath my skin. I chewed my lip, glancing at the clock on the far wall. Twenty minutes past the time we were supposed to meet. The concert would start without us.


    Maybe he got distracted. I could already picture him, head buried in some broken contraption he’d found in the scrapyard, hands smeared with grease, lost in his own world. He’ll come running through that door any second, grinning like a fool. Any second now.


    The door didn’t open.


    My foot tapped against the floor, my patience unraveling. I was excited, damn it. I’d been looking forward to this night for weeks. He knows I’m leaving tomorrow. He wouldn''t be late on purpose. Jack’s stupid smile flashed through my mind, his eyes bright when he asked me to go with him. I could still hear his voice—“Then let’s make it like, totally the most fun day ever!”


    I shoved off the wall, unable to sit still any longer. The front room was packed tonight—maybe Jack was out there, waiting for me. Maybe he thought we were meeting outside.


    Slipping through the side door, I stepped into the cool night air, exhaling sharply as the noise of Lock & Key dulled behind me. The street was alive with movement, a tangled mess of overlapping voices—laughter, drunken shouts, the occasional clash of metal on stone. Further down, the distant shatter of glass sent a ripple of reaction through the crowd, but no one seemed all that concerned. Just another night in Purgatory.


    I leaned against the tavern’s outer wall, arms crossed, scanning the faces weaving through the dimly lit streets. My fingers drummed anxiously against my sleeve, a restless rhythm that mirrored the gnawing unease in my gut.


    He wouldn’t just ditch me. Right?


    Maybe I got the time wrong when they’d be back. Maybe he was still caught up in something. Jack had a habit of getting sidetracked over scrap metal and busted radios, but that thought didn’t make me roll my eyes like it should have. Instead, my stomach twisted. The anticipation that had once felt thrilling now felt like a bad omen.


    The minutes stretched. My pulse quickened.


    A sharp gust of wind whipped past, and I cursed under my breath, rubbing my arms. Something was wrong. I could feel it in my bones.


    Then, a voice—Senna’s voice—cut through my memory, unbidden and urgent.


    "If we don’t come back... take care of Mae"


    I was left breathless in that moment. My mind tried to reject it, but the weight of his words settled in my chest like a stone dropping into deep water.


    If we don’t come back.


    The way he had said it. The way he had looked at me before they left. It wasn’t a casual remark. It had been a warning.


    A cold dread seeped through me, crawling up my spine like ice.


    Jack wasn’t here. I haven''t heard from Senna or Ev. And Mae—


    Shit.


    I turned sharply, locking eyes with my bodyguard—a hulking figure who had been lurking in the background, blending into the shadows.


    "Follow me. Now."


    I didn’t wait for confirmation.


    The second I broke into a sprint, he followed.


    Purgatory at night was a different beast entirely. The streets stretched long and empty in places, only to give way to pockets of chaos—a drunk being dragged into an alley, figures huddled around burning trash cans, the distant pop of gunfire swallowed by the low hum of the city. The neon glow of street signs flickered weakly, some failing entirely, leaving entire sections bathed in shadow. Overhead, scaffolding clung to half-collapsed buildings like skeletal remains, the echoes of past lives carved into crumbling stone and rusting steel.


    I ran through winding alleys slick with oil and filth, dodging overturned crates and shattered glass. The air reeked of damp rock and sewage, the thick stench of rot clinging to the walls, but further down, the sharp burn of cheap street food and charred spice lingered. My foot nearly slipped on the uneven cobblestone as I turned a corner, catching myself just in time. My heartbeat pounded against my ribs.


    Past the decrepit market stalls and rundown apartments, the terrain shifted. The man-made ruins of Purgatory gave way to something older, untouched by progress—massive rock formations and jagged stone pathways that burrowed deeper underground. The glow of the city dimmed behind me, swallowed by the oppressive dark.


    The deeper I went, the quieter it became.


    The hideout was exactly where it had always been—a hollow carved into the rock face, hidden from prying eyes and unwanted visitors. Rough-hewn walls framed the entrance, the door itself little more than reinforced scrap metal, bolted into place like an afterthought. The dampness in the air clung to my skin, the weight of the earth pressing in from all sides.


    I slowed as we neared the tunnel leading to the front door. The passage carved into the rock was barely wide enough for a single person, the jagged walls closing in like the gaping maw of some long-dead beast. I turned to my bodyguard, raising a hand.


    "Wait here." My voice was low, steady. "If something''s wrong inside, I don’t need you blocking the only exit." He gave a silent nod, shifting to take position near the entrance, his hand resting on the grip of his weapon. I took a breath and stepped forward.


    The tunnel swallowed me whole, the damp air thickening as I moved deeper. My boots scuffed against the stone, each step heavier than the last. The deeper I went, the heavier the silence became, swallowing even the faintest echoes of the city above.


    Then I reached it.


    The door.


    A cold slab of reinforced metal, slick with condensation. My fingers curled into a fist, hesitating for just a moment before I pressed my palm flat against the surface.


    Too quiet.


    Too still.


    I pushed the door open and stepped inside.


    The air inside was thick with damp earth and the faint, lingering scent of burning oil. Shadows stretched long and uneven across the rough stone walls, the flickering light of an old, half-empty lantern barely keeping the darkness at bay. My boots scuffed against the uneven ground as I stepped forward, my breath slow, controlled.


    I walked through the narrow passage leading to the main living space, the sound of my own footsteps swallowed by the heavy silence. My eyes scanned the room as I entered, my pulse steady but wary—until they landed on a small figure curled up in a nest of thick blankets.


    Mae.


    She lay fast asleep, her tiny body buried beneath layers of mismatched fabric. Her face was peaceful, her dark curls fanning across the pillow. In one small hand, she clutched a worn stuffed animal, its fur matted from years of love.


    For a long moment, I just stood there, watching the slow rise and fall of her breathing. The weight in my chest pressed heavier. They weren’t back.


    Jack, Senna, Ev—they should have been back by now.


    And Mae… she was just here, waiting. Unaware. Still expecting the world to tell her what had happened.


    I knelt beside her, brushing a stray curl from her forehead.


    "Mae." My voice barely rose above a whisper.


    She stirred, murmuring something in her sleep before her eyes fluttered open. Groggy, unfocused at first. Then she blinked up at me, confusion flickering across her features.


    "Serrani?" she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep. "Is Senna back yet?"


    I hesitated. Just long enough for her to notice.


    "Not yet." I forced the words out, keeping my voice softer than I intended. "Did Jack or Ev come back? Have you seen them at all tonight?"


    Mae rubbed her eyes and shook her head, her curls bouncing with the movement. "No… they said they’d be back before I fell asleep. But they never wake me up when they do."


    Her voice was drowsy, unaware of the worry twisting tight in my chest.


    She yawned and stretched, blinking up at me, still too wrapped in sleep to understand what wasn’t being said.


    "Why are you here? Where is everyone else?" Her small voice broke the silence, a quiet tremor beneath the weight of uncertainty.


    She hadn’t realized it yet—the possibility they might not come back.


    I forced a smile, brushing her tangled hair out of her face.


    "Senna asked me to take you somewhere safe if they didn’t make it back on time. I’m sure they’re just running late."


    I had to believe that. I needed to.


    Senna’s voice echoed in my head, words that had haunted me since I first heard them.


    "If we don’t come back… take care of Mae."


    Mae frowned, her small brows knitting together. She was starting to piece it together.


    I reached out my hand, keeping my voice light, steady. Not for me. For her.


    "Hey, it’s like an adventure. Just the two of us." My smile barely held. "And at the end of it? Cake. Lots of it. We’ll eat like princesses."


    Her eyes lit up at the mention of cake. Her tiny fingers wrapped around mine, warm against my cold skin.


    "Really? Just like a princess?"


    I laughed softly, my heart breaking.


    "Exactly like a princess."


    I led her outside, feeling her small hand gripping mine tighter as we stepped into the night.


    The moment her eyes met Purgatory’s streets, she froze. Her world had been so small. She had lived her life in the safety of their hideout, shielded from the worst of this place. I had almost forgotten how little she had ever seen of the outside world.


    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    We left the outskirts behind, heading toward Lock & Key.


    Mae was a handful the entire way. Darting off, getting into trouble, stopping every few steps to gawk at something as if she had never seen the world beyond the hideout. Maybe she hadn’t—not like this. Purgatory’s streets were a mess of movement and noise, a far cry from the hollow silence she was used to.


    I lost count of how many times I had to apologize to irritated shopkeepers and half-drunken mercenaries. At first, I tried just keeping her close, but even with my hand firmly gripping hers, she squirmed, tugging me toward every flickering neon sign, every stray cat, every stand selling fried rat on a stick.


    Eventually, I gave up and asked my bodyguard to carry her.


    She pouted, crossing her arms in defiance, but at least she stopped trying to run.


    I glanced up at the sky, a dull stretch of fog and smog-choked stars.


    On the way home, my thoughts ran in circles, turning over a hundred different ways to explain this to my parents.


    Tomorrow, I was supposed to be leaving. Tonight was supposed to be my date with Jack. Everything had already been decided for me— just like everything else in my life.


    I couldn’t just drop Mae off and disappear.


    But I also knew Mom and Dad wouldn’t magically change their minds. Whatever convinced them to send me to that preppy Ringer school, they weren’t telling me. Just vague, half-assed explanations that didn’t add up.


    We stopped outside Lock & Key.


    The guard set Mae down, and she huffed in annoyance, adjusting the stuffed animal tucked under her arm. I flashed her a small smirk. “Come on. Time to meet my folks.”


    Inside, the familiar scent of whiskey and cigar smoke settled over me like an old coat.


    Dad was leaning against the bar, his hat pulled low, the glow of his cigar briefly illuminating his sharp features each time he took a drag. Mom stood behind the counter, absentmindedly drying cups—a habit she fell into whenever something was on her mind.


    Their expressions were tight. Unreadable.


    I frowned.


    Had something happened between them?


    A quick glance around the bar told me nothing was out of place. The usual faces. Hardened men and women, survivors of Purgatory’s worst.


    But just as I opened my mouth to speak—


    Mae let go of my hand.


    She was weaving through the tables, her tiny hands clenched into tight fists. Her dark curls bounced with every determined step, her small face twisted in an expression I''d never seen before—a mix of anger and pure, childlike fear.


    "Hey!" Mae shouted, her voice trembling despite her attempt at bravery. "That''s not yours!"


    I followed her gaze, heart seizing at the sight of the stranger seated alone in the corner. The woman lifted her whiskey glass with calculated slowness, amber liquid shimmering in the dim, wavering light. The hat resting on the table before her was unmistakable; it was Ev’s hat. The one jack made her. My chest tightened painfully. That hat shouldn''t be here—not with her.


    The stranger tilted her head just slightly, eyes shadowed beneath the wide brim of her own hat. Her posture was casual, almost lazy, but danger radiated from her like heat from a flame. When her voice finally came, it was rough velvet, cold yet oddly smooth.


    "Careful, little mouse," she purred, swirling her drink slowly. "You might just bite off more than you can chew."


    "Hat''s on my head you see." the stranger drawled, her voice rough like gravel and dangerously soft. "That makes it mine." She tilted her head slightly, studying Mae with dark amusement beneath the shadowed brim. "And besides… how would someone like you know anything about it?"


    I stepped forward before Mae could lose control, my heart hammering. My voice held steady, even as panic clawed through my chest. "We knew the person who owned that hat." I forced my gaze unwaveringly on hers. "I''d like to know how you came by it."


    The woman’s gaze shifted languidly to me, eyes glinting with something darkly amused. She leaned back in her chair, fingers tapping lightly against the table. "Happened upon an unfortunate scene that damn near broke my heart” she began, her voice low enough to force me to lean in despite my instincts screaming to run. "Two boys. Brothers, I reckon. One looked to have already checked out." She paused, her eyes glittering. "The other... Jack, right? Poor thing was left bleeding out, followed his brother soon after. Kept begging someone named Ev not to leave him. But she did, just like that." Her eyes drifted meaningfully to the hat. "Left this behind, too."


    Jack’s…. dead?


    The world tilted beneath my feet. My stomach twisted, bile rising to burn at the back of my throat. It felt like my chest was caving in, crushing my heart with a vice grip. A raw, animalistic pain blossomed inside me, so fierce it almost took my breath away. Every memory I had carefully surged forward, drowning me in grief.


    No. It couldn''t be true. Not Jack. Not him.


    But her voice held no lies. It only carried the cruel satisfaction of truth.


    I forced my body to stay rigid, my muscles tight as steel cables. I wouldn''t break—not here, not now. Mae was watching me, her eyes wide with confusion and dread. I had to hold it together for her. My heart was breaking apart piece by piece, but no one would see it.


    The woman’s gaze flickered past me, locking onto my parents. She lifted a slow eyebrow, lips curling into a cruel, predatory smile. "Fancy meeting the infamous owners of Lock & Key." She set her glass down, the sharp clink echoing harshly through the sudden silence.


    Dad exhaled a long stream of smoke before speaking. “And why’s The Coyote cleaning up after rat catchers?” His tone was even, but I caught the underlying tension. “Didn’t think you took out the trash for a living.”


    My father shifted, eyes narrowing dangerously. "You got business here, Coyote, or you just here to cause trouble?"


    Coyote? The name sent ice running down my spine.


    "Just passing through, Wright," Coyote drawled lazily. "But you know how I am—always finding ways to stir things up."


    Father took a step forward, his hand resting on the handle of his revolver. "Then maybe you best keep moving."


    Coyote chuckled, a slow, menacing sound, her eyes glittering with amusement and venom. "Quite a mouth you got on you, ‘Claw’," she drawled softly. "Just like your old man." She leaned forward, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Shame he didn''t live long enough to teach you when to shut it."


    The room went dead silent.


    Dad smirked, grinding his cigar slowly into the rim of her whiskey glass. His voice was deadly calm. "Best run along now, Coyote. Otherwise, folks might start thinking we''ve taken to hiring whores." He tilted his head mockingly. "Then again, stick around. My brother might be interested in renting you out—like your pappy used to."


    The table clattered as Coyote shot to her feet, whiskey glass shattering against the floor as she reached for a weapon. Chairs scraped violently as every patron in the bar stood, hands moving instinctively to theirs. The sharp clicks of hammers being pulled back and safeties flicking off filled the tense air, a deadly chorus of warning. Muzzles gleamed under the dim lights, all aimed squarely at her.


    Mae whimpered beside me. I pulled her close, my fingers trembling, breath hitching. I held my ground despite the fear gnawing at my resolve.


    Yet Coyote stood calm, fingers hovering momentarily over her holster, eyes surveying the room with cool, detached appraisal. After a slow, tense heartbeat, she relaxed, offering a humorless smile as she shrugged on her coat, grabbing a fresh whiskey bottle off the nearest table with deliberate insolence.


    Every weapon remained fixed firmly upon her.


    She moved toward the door with unsettling confidence. Every eye—and every gun—followed her. At the threshold, she paused, No fear. Not even a flicker of hesitation.


    "See you around, little mouse."


    Not a threat—a promise.


    She vanished through the door, leaving only the lingering, bitter scent of whiskey and tension behind.


    The room exhaled collectively, chairs scraping against the wooden floors as people settled back into wary silence.


    Mae’s tiny fists trembled at her sides, eyes locked on the door.


    Coyote. I won''t forget that name.


    Dad grumbled, pushing himself off the bar. His eyes immediately landed on Mae, narrowing slightly as he took in the way she clutched my hand like a lifeline, her tangled curls shadowing her worried eyes. He exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand down his face with tired resignation. "And just who might this be?"


    Before I could even begin to answer, he raised a hand to silence me, eyes darkening with quiet intensity. "You''ve got some explaining to do, miss."


    Without another word, he turned and headed toward the back room. I bit my lip, heart hammering anxiously as I tugged Mae gently along. She stumbled beside me, quiet and lost, still shaken from everything she''d heard. It wasn''t fair for her—so young, and already carrying more than anyone her age should bear.


    Donrani lingered near his doorway, his expression unreadable. His eyes briefly met mine, something unspoken passing between us. Had he heard everything? Of course he had. He always did.


    Inside, the back room felt smaller than usual, the air heavy and thick with tension. Mom stood near the couch, silently lighting her pipe, one hand resting gently over the swell of her pregnant belly. Her eyes watched us carefully, her expression a mix of curiosity and guarded concern.


    Dad had already settled himself on the worn couch, leaning back with a sigh, feet propped casually on the coffee table. Both of them fixed their eyes on me expectantly, waiting for answers I struggled to give.


    Taking a deep breath, I stepped forward, my voice soft and tentative. "This is Mae," I said, nudging the girl gently forward. "She''s the youngest of Senna''s family."


    A heavy silence followed. Mom''s expression softened immediately, glancing down thoughtfully at her stomach, a flicker of sorrow crossing her features. Dad exhaled deeply, running his fingers through his hair in frustration.


    The weight of everything pressed down on me all at once—Jack''s absence, Senna''s final words, Ev''s betrayal. My chest tightened painfully, grief threatening to pull me under. Before I realized it, I had sunk to my knees in front of Dad, my trembling hand gripping his tightly.


    "Dad…" My voice cracked, wavering as tears blurred my vision. "I…I should''ve been there. I should''ve done something—I should''ve helped them. Jack…he didn''t deserve this. I didn''t even get to say goodbye, didn''t get to…" My voice broke completely, words fading into a quiet, strangled sob


    Dad''s eyes widened slightly, the hardness in his gaze slowly melting into something softer. His hand reached out, resting gently on my shoulder. "Serrani," he murmured quietly, his tone filled with a rare tenderness. "You can''t change what''s done. Ain''t no one got that kind of power."


    I shook my head, tears streaming freely down my face, my shoulders shaking uncontrollably. "But it''s not fair," I choked out. "Jack deserved better than that. He deserved someone who wouldn''t abandon him. He deserved—"


    I swallowed hard, finally lifting my eyes to meet Dad''s gaze directly, letting my voice drop into a raw whisper: "I loved him."


    The admission hung between us, heavy and aching. Dad didn''t look away, didn''t seem surprised. He simply nodded slowly, a deep sadness and understanding in his eyes. "I know, kid," he said gently. "I know."


    Something within me broke then, the careful mask I''d been holding together finally shattering. I pressed my face into Dad''s shoulder, letting the tears flow freely. His hand tightened on my shoulder, steady and reassuring, grounding me as I let go of the weight I''d been carrying.


    After a long moment, Dad finally spoke, his voice calm yet firm. “You cant change what happened, Serrani. Nobody can. The only thing you can control now is how you move forward. You have someone who needs you.” He glanced meaningfully toward Mae.


    I wiped my face and exhaled slowly, pressing my fingers against my temples. I had to pull myself together. Falling apart wasn’t an option, not now. Mae was watching, her small face drawn in quiet confusion, waiting for me to tell her what to do next.


    Dad seemed to sense the shift, nodding quietly toward the stairs. "She can take the spare room upstairs. Get her settled, Serrani. Then come back down—your mother and I have things to talk about with you."


    I wiped my face with the back of my hand, taking a shaky breath to steady myself. Mae looked up at me with wide, uncertain eyes, clearly waiting for guidance.


    Summoning all the strength I could muster, I forced a gentle smile and held out my hand again. "Come on, Mae," I whispered softly, guiding her toward the stairs. "Let''s get you upstairs and into bed."


    She hesitated for a moment, her grip tightening on my sleeve before she finally nodded. I guided her toward the stairs, keeping my pace slow, steady. Each step felt heavier, like the weight of the night was pressing down on me with every movement. My body ached from exhaustion, but I didn’t let it show.


    When we reached the room, I paused at the doorway. Mom and Dad had probably planned to turn this into the new baby’s nursery. It was mostly empty, save for a few old pieces of furniture. A single lantern cast a soft glow across the walls, flickering faintly with each small movement of air.


    Mae climbed onto the bed, hugging her knees to her chest. I picked up a stuffed bunny from a nearby chair, brushing some dust off before handing it to her with a small smile. “Sorry about the cake. We’ll eat tons of it tomorrow.”


    She hugged the bunny close, her tiny fingers clutching the fabric like it was her last tether to something safe.


    I brushed the hair from her face as I tucked her in. “Want a bedtime story?”


    She nodded.


    I started telling her the story of Princess Rhea, but before I got far, she tugged at my shirt. “Tell me a scary one. Like Senna does.”


    I froze. The stillness in her eyes when she said his name twisted something deep inside me. My breath hitched for half a second before I forced myself to smile.


    “Alright. Scary it is.”


    She grinned, nestling deeper into the blankets. I started telling her the story of The Mangle, A man turned killing machine stalking abandoned mine tunnels hoping he can one day get his revenge for the people who turned him into a splicer. But as I spoke, Mae’s eyelids drooped, her small body curling into the blankets like a cocoon.


    Her small giggle echoed in my ears, a ghost of a moment long past.


    The warmth of that room, the dim lantern glow, the steady rise and fall of Mae’s breath—it all started to unravel. The scent of wood and whiskey faded, replaced by the sterile, metallic tang of the trolley. The distant murmur of Purgatory’s streets warped and twisted, folding into the dull, rhythmic hum of train tracks beneath me.


    A dull ringing filled my head, distant yet persistent, like a sound carried from another lifetime.


    I blinked awake, my cheek pressed against the trolley window. My face was numb, my body stiff from the awkward angle. The transition between past and present hit like a punch to the gut. The grief that had momentarily dulled came roaring back, raw and suffocating.


    The trolley operator’s voice cut through the haze.


    “Last call for D6!”


    Shit.


    I jolted awake, my cheek peeling off the trolley window. A faint ringing echoed in my ears as I wiped the drool from my mouth, blinking the haze of sleep from my eyes. The station lights flickered overhead, casting long, warped shadows against the rusted beams of the platform.


    I scrambled to my feet, grabbing my bag before hopping off just as the doors hissed shut behind me. The stale air of Purgatory hit like a punch to the gut—smog-heavy, laced with damp metal and lingering oil. The city loomed in the distance, cast in rust and shadow, its jagged skyline a stark reminder that nothing here ever truly changed. The above-ground remains of the abandoned mine stretched toward the sky like broken ribs, skeletal remnants of a world that had long since moved on.


    But that wasn’t what caught my attention.


    A lone figure leaned against the mouth of a nearby alley, flicking a lighter open and closed, the soft click cutting through the silence like a metronome.


    Click.


    He wasn’t waiting for just anyone.


    I exhaled sharply, stepping up beside him. “What do you want, Uncle?” My voice carried no warmth.


    Click.


    Vernan Well. Leader of The Brass. My uncle. A man whose ambition had no ceiling, no limit, no conscience. The flame from his lighter briefly illuminated the sharp angles of his face, the faint smirk curling at his lips.


    “What? Can’t a man check in on his favorite niece?” His tone was light, almost amused, but I knew better. This wasn’t a social call.


    I crossed my arms, unwilling to entertain whatever game he was playing. “The school’s issuing a trade mission soon for specialists and above. I’ll be on it.” The words came out sharper than I intended, but it didn’t matter. A half-truth at best. My grades had tanked, and if the mission were issued now, I wouldn’t make the cut. But I had time. A month, maybe two, to claw my way back.


    Click.


    His hand landed on my shoulder, firm. Just shy of painful. “Careful, kid,” he murmured, his gravelly voice dropping an octave. “For the sake of your little psycho friend, I’d watch that tone.”


    A chill crawled up my spine. My shoulders tensed, but I shrugged him off, keeping my face neutral. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.


    I turned and walked away, ignoring the heavy boots that fell into step behind me. My shadows. The Brass members flanking me, their presence a silent warning to anyone paying too much attention. Even without their weapons in plain sight—thanks to the recent investigator crackdowns—they were unmistakable.


    The descent into the lower levels of Purgatory was like stepping into another world. The air thickened, heavy with the stench of damp stone, burnt oil, and too many bodies crammed into too little space. Graffiti stretched across the crumbling walls, scrawled threats and faded warnings layered over old gang insignias. A few passersby threw nasty looks my way, but their eyes flicked to the men behind me, and just like that, they found better things to focus on.


    By the time I reached the neon glow of the Lock & Key, my jaw ached from clenching too hard.


    The bar had changed over the years. The second floor had expanded into a proper base of operations, and a third had been added for family quarters. The sign out front flickered faintly, casting warped letters against the cracked pavement below.


    The moment I stepped inside, something small barreled into me.


    “Serrani! Serrani! Let’s play!”


    Wyatt. My brother. Seven years old and full of boundless energy, his face scrunched in exaggerated effort as he tried to squeeze the life out of me.


    I chuckled, ruffling his wild hair as I pulled him into a hug. “I gotta see your sister first,” I said, nudging his forehead with mine. “We’ll play after, okay?”


    “Okayyy…” Wyatt dragged out the word, throwing a quick glance toward the hallway, then scurried off.


    I followed his gaze to the heavy metal door at the end of the hall.


    Mae’s room.


    It had been months.


    I knocked softly before pushing it open. The air inside was cool, tinged with the faint scent of old books and copper. Only the dim glow of green light broke the darkness, casting eerie shadows along the walls.


    Mae was pacing, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, muttering under her breath. The words were too low to make out, but her tension was palpable, crackling like static in the air.


    I stepped inside, letting the door click shut behind me.


    “Mae?” My voice was careful, quiet.


    She didn’t stop pacing. Didn’t even look up.


    My stomach twisted.


    A stuffed bunny was pinned to the wall, a dagger buried clean through its throat. The blade pulsed faintly, its eerie green glow casting flickering shadows against the stone.


    Jack’s gift to her when she was 7. A pair of daggers.


    I exhaled slowly, my chest tightening. Mae still hadn’t noticed me.


    She stood in the dim glow of her room, long hair falling in tangled waves over her face, her back turned as she muttered to herself. I hadn’t been able to see her much these past few years. Uncle Vernan made sure of that. His idea of “keeping her safe” had kept me busy running bribes, smuggling weapons, and doing whatever else he needed out of the city. A trade. A leash. All so I could keep her out of his hands.


    And yet, standing here now, watching her in this dimly lit room, I wondered if I had failed anyway.


    Mae turned, eyes catching the lantern light. “Do you remember,” she asked, her voice light—too light—“the Mangle bedtime story you told me all those years ago?”


    She stepped closer, a flicker of excitement sparking behind her emerald gaze.


    I nodded.


    She grinned, but it didn’t reach her eyes. It stretched too wide, something sharp curling at the edges. "I''ve been thinking... the ending sucks."


    Her arms swung wide, like she was directing a grand stage play. “A man-turned-killing-machine, wandering abandoned mine tunnels, waiting for revenge? C’mon. He just waits for them?”


    She tilted her head, her expression playful, but something about it made my stomach turn.


    “I like my version better," she continued. "The one where he actually hunts them down. One. By. One.”


    Her voice dipped, a slow, deliberate rhythm to each word, letting them sink in like teeth into flesh.


    The air in the room felt colder.


    Every time I came back, she seemed... darker. It was subtle at first. The way she talked, the way she looked at people when she thought no one was watching. Little things. But now, it was something else entirely. A shift I could no longer ignore.


    This wasn’t just growing up. It wasn’t just learning how to survive in Purgatory.


    If it weren’t for Uncle Vernan…


    My jaw clenched. How the hell did he even find out about her connection to the others? The only people who knew were me, Mae, Mom, Dad, and Donny. And none of them would’ve breathed a damn word.


    “So, what do you think?” Mae’s voice cut through my thoughts.


    I blinked. She was watching me now, waiting, impatience flickering behind her sharp gaze.


    What would Jack think of me?


    I swallowed hard. He’d probably be furious at how little I’d been there for Mae. Or maybe... maybe he’d understand. I couldn’t be in two places at once.


    “Mae, I...” I hesitated, feeling the weight of what I was about to say. “Starting next week, I won’t be able to see you for at least five months.”


    Her expression barely changed.


    “It’s gonna be hell getting my grades back up, and if I make the cut for the trade mission... well, who knows where they’ll send me?” The school kept the destination locked down until the last moment. No one got a leg up. No one had time to prepare.


    I’d been on trade missions before, but never one this important.


    Mae pursed her lips. “Another trade mission? Can’t you just… y''know, not go?”


    I exhaled a soft chuckle, already expecting her to start prying into the details.


    Instead, she just shrugged. “Alright. Just tell me where you’re going before you leave so I can mark it on our map.” She smirked faintly. “I’ll read up on it so I can grill you with questions when you get back.”


    She turned toward her bed, rummaging for something. “More importantly, check this out—I learned a new card trick.”


    She kept searching, flipping over pillows and blankets, but whatever she was looking for wasn’t where she thought it was.


    I watched her, that gnawing feeling in my gut twisting deeper.


    It was the same reaction as last time. Like she was expecting it. Like she already knew.


    Why did that bother me so much?


    My stomach twisted, a cold weight settling in my chest. I rubbed the back of my neck, forcing myself to shake it off, but the unease lingered.