The alley reeked of wet trash and fried food oil, a city stink that clung to the back of the throat. A neon sign flickered above the bar’s door, buzzed like an insect that refused to die.

  “Help! Hello?! Someone—there’s a woman, she’s been grabbed! He ran off. Please, call someone!”

  At the mouth of the alley, three men lingered on a smoke break outside a neon-lit bar. The heavy one barely glanced up, exhaling a stream of smoke.

  “Keep walking,” he muttered.

  The leaner man smirked, pulling at his cigarette. “Come on, man. Middle of the night, no shoes? Looks like a setup.”

  The third shifted, uneasy. “What if he’s serious? Maybe we should—”

  “Don’t be stupid,” the heavy one cut him off. “You go chasing that, you won’t come back. He’ll be fine.”

  Gabriel’s voice cracked again, urgent. “I’m not lying! Black pants, tan jacket—he’s getting away while you stand here!”

  “Last warning. Get lost.”

  For a heartbeat, he held the man’s stare, his expression unreadable, like he was weighing whether to beg again or let the silence say everything.

  His face gave nothing back. Then he turned and bolted, the cold wind blistering his skin, walls pressing in. His footsteps echoed—slap, slap, slap—until it was the only sound left, as though the alley itself had devoured him.

  Then nothing.

  ?

  Morning light.

  Cold again, but softer now, the kind that pinched at the skin instead of tearing it.

  Aubrey Archer sat wrapped in a wool blanket on her high-rise balcony, the city stretched around her like glass and steel scaffolding reaching for the sun. Stray strands of her white hair slipped loose and caught the early light, glowing faint silver in the breeze. Her eyes, red, clear, and cutting their natural shade, were fixed on the phone glowing on the table beside a still-burning candle from the night before. Its sweet scent lingered, faint and lonely.

  She glanced at her dim phone screen. It read ‘Mon Oct 10, 5:49 a.m.’

  “Forty-five minutes,” she muttered under her breath, then rested her head against the rail and drifted off again.

  The last of the sun stretched across the rooftops, turning the neighborhood gold. Aubrey sat perched on the shingles, knees tucked up, a sketchbook balanced against them. The pencil in her hand moved in quiet, careful strokes, dragging faint shadows across the page.

  A pair of oversized headphones framed her face, the tinny sound of some indie band leaked into the cooling air—music pulled from someone’s burned CD, not a playlist. Her sneakers were scuffed and scribbled on with pen, the kind of idle doodles that lived in the margins of a school notebook.

  The breeze lifted a strand of hair across her cheek. She pushed it back absently and glanced at the horizon, expression unreadable—half lost in the drawing, half somewhere else entirely. For a moment, up here, it felt like the world had forgotten she was just a kid passing through.

  She set the pencil down and leaned back, sliding her bag beneath her head as a makeshift pillow. The shingles were still warm against her shoulders, holding onto the last bit of sunlight. Her sketchbook lay open on her lap, the half-finished lines catching the fading glow.

  A low hum grew overhead. Aubrey turned her head just in time to catch a passenger plane gliding across the sky from right to left, its silver belly catching the last of the sun. She watched it drift farther until it became a faint speck against the fading light. A quiet breath slipped out of her, long and steady, before she turned her eyes back to the horizon. The sunset was quiet enough to make her believe the world would wait and that people would, too.

  Her phone buzzed against her thigh, breaking the stillness. She pulled it from her pocket, the screen lighting her face with a faint bluish glow.

  MACY:

  Dinner’s ready. Plates are on the stove.

  Aubrey stared at the message for a second longer than needed, the music still pulsing faintly in her ears. She thumbed the volume down, letting the world creep back in the rustle of trees, the distant bark of a dog, the hum of a passing car. With a quiet exhale, she sat up, tucking her pencil behind her ear and slipping the sketchbook into her bag.

  The front door clicked shut behind her, muffling the outside world. The house smelled faintly of garlic bread and laundry detergent. The TV in the living room spilled out the canned laughter of some sitcom.

  Macy’s husband sat slouched in his recliner, eyes fixed on the screen. Two boys, Aubrey’s foster brothers, both around her age, were sprawled across the couch with dinner plates balanced on their knees. They didn’t ignore her on purpose; they just… didn’t look up. She slipped past them like part of the background.

  The family dog trotted over, tail wagging softly, and she reached down to scratch behind its ears. It followed her into the kitchen, nails tapping lightly on the tile.

  Macy stood at the counter, music humming low from a little radio perched beside the sink. She was swaying slightly as she scrubbed a pan, her voice lifting here and there to catch bits of the chorus. She turned when she heard Aubrey enter, her face lighting with a small, practiced warmth.

  “Hey, sweetheart,” Macy said, drying her hands on a dish towel as she stepped forward and wrapped Aubrey in a quick, gentle hug that smelled faintly of lemon soap and tomato sauce. “Dinner’s on the stove. Figured you’d be up on the roof again.”

  She pulled back with a grin and added, “I tried a new seasoning tonight, don’t ask me what’s in it, I just trusted the label.”

  Aubrey offered a faint smile and crossed to the pot, the dog at her heels like a shadow. She ladled pasta onto a plate, the steam fogging briefly against her face.

  Macy leaned against the counter, watching her, not hovering, just… present in that way she always was.

  Aubrey sat at the kitchen table, the wood cool beneath her arms. As she set her fork down for a moment, she reached down to scratch behind the dog’s ears. He gave a soft huff and settled fully at her feet, warm weight pressing against her shoes.

  On the counter nearby, her eyes caught a tangle of colorful string and beads: a half-finished bracelet. She instinctively turned her wrist, revealing the one already tied there. The sight tugged a quiet, private smile from her.

  Her thumb brushed over the beads, tracing the uneven knots.

  Strum.

  A guitar chord floated in, warm and unhurried. The scene shifted to late afternoon light spilling across cracked concrete and rusted rails. Aubrey sat with her back against his chest, legs stretched out, the notebook propped against her knees again. His arm draped loosely around her waist as he leaned forward, guitar resting on his thigh, fingers moving in an easy rhythm like he’d been born playing.

  Around them, their friends carved lazy loops through the skate park, boards clacking against ramps, wheels hissing on pavement. Someone laughed from across the bowl, the sound carrying on the breeze. A pair of sneakers thudded against a rail as one of the boys landed a trick and threw his arms up like he’d just won gold.

  Aubrey didn’t look up her pencil moved in quick, sure strokes, capturing their silhouettes mid-motion. The edges of her mouth curved just slightly, a softness she didn’t show in crowded kitchens or hallways. Here, she didn’t have to.

  He shifted slightly behind her, leaning over her shoulder. “You’re drawing again,” he said, his voice low, almost blending with the gentle strum of his guitar.

  Aubrey glanced back at him, brushing a loose strand of hair away. “Yeah,” she said with a small smile. “I’m drawing our favorite spot.”

  He leaned closer to see. On the page, soft pencil lines were forming the quiet hill they always came to after school—the fence, the scraggly tree that leaned just a little too far, the lights of town peeking up from the horizon. It wasn’t finished, but it was unmistakable.

  He let out a short laugh. “Is that supposed to be me sitting there?”

  She smirked. “Maybe.”

  He strummed a lazy chord. “You make it look better than real life.”

  Aubrey rolled her eyes, but her cheeks warmed as she bent back over the sketch.

  He watched her pencil move for a moment, then reached up and lightly brushed a bit of hair from her shoulder.

  “You know,” he said with that half-grin he always had when he was about to say something cocky but disarming, “when the sun hits your hair like this… it kinda looks like it’s glowing. Matches those eyes of yours, red, all intense and beautiful. It’s unfair, really.”

  Aubrey froze mid-stroke, caught off guard. A laugh bubbled out, quick and quiet. “You’re ridiculous.”

  He shrugged, still grinning. “Yeah, but I’m right.”

  She shook her head, trying to hide the way her smile lingered as she bent back over the sketch.

  Aubrey tilted her head just enough to glance back at him, a playful spark flickering behind her eyes.

  “Nice words,” she said, voice low but teasing. “Especially coming from a future rockstar.”

  He huffed out a laugh through his nose, leaning back on his hands. “Future’s a big word,” he said, half-grinning. “But… yeah. I’ll take it.”

  She smirked and turned back to her drawing, the quiet between them settling into something easy.

  He leaned forward again, tapping the page lightly with his finger. “No, really—you’re something else. Beautiful and talented. It’s almost intimidating.”

  Aubrey laughed, caught off guard, and pressed a hand over her mouth, trying to smother the grin that broke through. A faint flush colored her cheeks.

  He tilted his head, eyes glinting with that easy charm. “You think a guitarist and an artist actually work together, or are we destined to argue over who’s the real genius?”

  She snorted softly through her fingers. “You’re so full of yourself.”

  “Yeah,” he said, strumming a playful chord, “Maybe not enough.” He chuckled.

  He set the guitar down beside them with a soft thud, stretching his arms over his head until his joints popped. A long exhale slipped out with a yawn, the kind that comes when the sun starts dipping and everything slows down.

  “So…” he said, leaning back on his palms, eyes drifting toward the fading light. “How’s the new setup? The foster family.”

  Aubrey hesitated, twirling the pencil between her fingers.

  He glanced sideways at her. “What’s the foster dad like? Still giving you a hard time?”

  Aubrey let out a small breath through her nose, eyes still on the pencil spinning between her fingers. “They’re fine,” she said. “Just… kind of in their own world most of the time.”

  She gave a small, crooked smile. “I feel like the family cat, honestly. I come and go, eat when I need to, sleep where it’s quiet. They’re nice enough, just… not really looking at me, you know?”

  He watched her while she spoke, his expression softening, not pity, just listening.

  Aubrey twirled the pencil a little faster, like she was trying to distract herself from the words. “The mom, Macy… she’s sweet. Always smiling, always trying.” She gave a small shrug. “But sometimes it feels like she’s… I don’t know, like she’s playing house. Like I’m the daughter she always wanted, but didn’t actually want. You get what I mean?”

  She let out a quiet laugh through her nose, more tired than amused. “She puts on this warm thing every time I walk in the room, like we’re supposed to be this perfect little family. But when it all settles, I feel… invisible. Like if I disappeared tomorrow, they’d keep moving like nothing happened.”

  He set the guitar aside fully now, his arm draping over his bent knee as he turned toward her. His usual grin softened into something more attentive, the kind of look that made it easy to talk even when she didn’t mean to.

  “I get it,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry you’re getting dragged through all that. That’s a lot to carry.” He gave a slight, lopsided shrug. “At least she’s trying to make you feel welcome… even if that kind of makes it worse sometimes.”

  For a moment, neither of them spoke. The sound of wheels hitting pavement echoed through the park, someone laughing in the distance. He glanced at her, a faint smile tugging at his mouth.

  “But,” he said, tilting his head just slightly, “I see you pretty easily, Aubrey.”

  Aubrey’s smile crept in slowly, like she was trying not to let it take over her face but couldn’t help it. Something in her chest loosened.

  He shifted closer, the guitar now forgotten at his side, his knee brushing against hers. The noise of the park seemed to fade into the background, replaced by the sound of his quiet breath just inches away.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  Then he leaned in, and she met him halfway. The kiss was soft, unhurried — the kind that felt less like fireworks and more like a secret being kept between two people.

  A burst of laughter carried across the park. Two of their friends ambled over, boards tucked under their arms, still cracking up about something between themselves.

  “Yo, Leo—” one of them called, still laughing. “You guys coming tomorrow or what?”

  The other grinned widely. “Yeah, Tyson’s throwing that thing. Everyone’s in. Don’t bail like last time.”

  Leo shifted where he sat, a slight hesitation breaking his usual easy rhythm. “Yeah, uh… We’ll see,” he said casually, but the quick glance he shot them said not now.

  They slowed their approach, eyes flicking between him and Aubrey, the vibe finally registering. One of them scratched the back of his neck with a sheepish grin.

  “Oh—uh, yeah. Anyway, it’s tomorrow night. You should come, Aubrey,” he added, trying to smooth over the interruption.

  Aubrey lifted her head from his shoulder, glancing between the guys and Leo.

  “I mean, I’m down,” she said with a slight shrug. Then her brow knit slightly as she turned to him. “But… I thought you had to help your dad at work tomorrow?”

  Leo’s easy grin flickered for half a second—just long enough for the friends to catch it.

  Leo blinked, caught off guard. “Oh—yeah,” he said quickly, rubbing the back of his neck with a nervous laugh. “I, uh… just forgot to tell them I was helping my dad.” He gestured vaguely toward the group, trying to keep it light.

  One of his buddies jumped in almost immediately, nodding a little too fast. “Yeah, I think you did tell me that—my bad, man. Totally slipped my mind.”

  Leo nodded at his friend’s quick save, a tight smile flashing across his face.

  Aubrey tilted her head slightly, sensing something but not enough to name it. “Uh… well, alright,” she said after a beat, her voice softening. “I probably won’t go then. I don’t really wanna go without you.”

  The guys exchanged glances. One forced a smile, nodding a little too enthusiastically. “Yeah, totally. Makes sense.”

  The other gave Leo a subtle look-part apology, part good luck with that—before they backed off, laughing about something else as they returned to the ramps.

  Leo watched his friends walk off, shaking his head with a laugh that came a little too quick. “Those guys are idiots,” he said, leaning back on his hands. “Always running their mouths, acting like they’ve got it all figured out. Last week they almost got kicked out of the park for trying to ollie off the snack stand roof. Total jokesters, I swear—”

  “Leo.”

  He stopped mid-ramble when Aubrey lifted her arm, the beads on her bracelet catching the fading light. She tilted her wrist toward his. “Do you like yours?”

  Leo glanced down at his matching bracelet, a grin spreading across his face. “Yeah,” he said, turning his wrist to look at it closer. “I like it a lot.”

  Their eyes met for a quiet second, warm, unguarded.

  For a moment, neither of them said anything. The distant rumble of cars filled the gaps, mingling with the sound of boards rolling over concrete. One by one, the streetlights flickered on around the park, humming softly before flooding the pavement with their pale orange glow.

  Leo glanced up at the lights, then back at her. “Wanna hit Lookout Point?” he asked, his voice casual but edged with that spark he always got when it was just them.

  Aubrey let out a quiet giggle as she stood, brushing the back of her jeans. “I feel like I’m already there,” she said, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

  Leo’s smile widened. He pushed himself to his feet in one easy motion, gave her a playful two-finger salute, then turned and let out a sharp whistle toward his friends. “Yo! Lookout Point!”

  The group erupted in scattered cheers and whoops, boards clattering as they began gathering their stuff.

  The hill stretched out beneath them, the grass tall and swaying in the night breeze like a dark green sea. A few skateboards were scattered in the grass where their friends had dropped them, forgotten for the moment. The group had spread out in loose clusters—some lying on their backs, pointing at constellations they couldn’t name; others passing around a cheap soda bottle like it was champagne.

  Aubrey sat shoulder to shoulder with Leo near the crest of the hill, their legs stretched toward the drop below. From up here, the town unfurled like a glowing map—streetlights forming soft golden grids, cars gliding along the main road like slow-moving fireflies. In the distance, a train rumbled faintly, its whistle carrying through the cool night air.

  The sky overhead was deep and clear, an inky blue scattered with sharp, cold stars. A few clouds hovered near the horizon, backlit faintly by the last traces of dusk. Someone laughed from farther down the slope, the sound rising and falling with the wind before drifting away.

  Leo leaned back on his palms, breathing in the quiet like he belonged there. Aubrey hugged her knees loosely, her hair moving with the breeze, eyes tracing the town below as if trying to memorize every light.

  Leo tilted his head back, eyes sweeping across the night sky. “You know,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter now, “I’ve been coming up here for years. And every time… it feels the same.”

  He glanced toward the town below, a small, thoughtful smile tugging at his lips. “Doesn’t matter what’s going on—school, home, whatever. I come up here, and it’s like everything just… slows down.”

  Aubrey watched him from the corner of her eye, the wind lifting a few strands of her hair across her face. Something about the way he said it—soft, almost like he was talking to the night itself—made the moment feel heavier in a way she couldn’t quite name.

  Aubrey kept her eyes on the town below, the glow of distant streetlights smudging into soft halos against the dark. Leo leaned back on his hands, gaze fixed on the stars like he was trying to read something written up there.

  “So,” he said after a long stretch of quiet, “what do you want to do when this is all over?”

  She turned to him, brow furrowed slightly. “When it’s over?”

  He shrugged, eyes still on the sky. “Yeah. You know… when you get out of school and shit.”

  The question caught her off guard. She glanced down at her bag beside her, the corner of her sketchbook peeking out. Her fingers toyed absently with the bracelet on her wrist.

  “I don’t know,” she said finally, turning her gaze back toward the glowing town. “I guess… I want to draw.”

  Leo lowered his gaze from the stars to the city below, his shoulder brushing lightly against hers.

  “Yeah,” he said, a faint smile tugging at his mouth. “Basically just… be free, right?”

  Aubrey let out a quiet breath through her nose, the corner of her lips lifting as she kept her eyes on the lights below.

  “I think so,” Aubrey said after a moment, her voice soft. “I’m not really sure.”

  She hesitated, fingers absently picking at a loose thread on her jeans. The night air carried a faint chill, brushing against her arms.

  “Can I tell you something?” she asked, her eyes still fixed on the city below.

  Leo turned his head toward her, curiosity softening his usual grin. The glow from the distant town lights caught the edges of his face as he gave a slight, steady nod.

  “Yeah,” he said quietly, leaning in just enough to show he was listening.

  Aubrey’s eyes stayed fixed on the glowing sprawl below, her voice quiet but steady.

  “I just feel like I’m floating through,” she said. “Whatever wave pushes me along… that’s where I end up. Not because of anything I decide—just the direction the wind blows.”

  She exhaled slowly, fingers fiddling with the edge of her sketchbook beside her. “And truthfully? I’ve never been able to think about where I want it to go. Or what I want to do when I get there.”

  Her gaze softened on the horizon. “I just… always think about how to fit just right on whatever spot I land. So I don’t get kicked off.”

  Leo tilted his head, studying her profile in the dim light.

  “So… people like you, right?” he asked, not teasing, just curious, almost hesitant, like he was trying to understand a piece of her he hadn’t seen before.

  Aubrey let out a short breath through her nose, eyes still fixed on the city below.

  “Yeah,” she said slowly, almost like she was testing the words as they left her mouth. Her fingers picked absently at the hem of her jeans. “You can’t really be yourself. I mean… You can, technically.” She paused, her lips pressing together before a soft, almost ironic laugh slipped out. “But aren’t we all putting on a bit of a performance every day? Just a little?”

  Her voice softened on that last part, like she wasn’t expecting an answer. She glanced down at her hands, flexing her fingers. “I’m just… tired of it,” she admitted quietly. “And honestly? I’m bad at it.”

  Leo leaned back on his hands, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Well,” he said, giving her a sideways glance, “if this is you performing, then you’ve got me hooked, Aubrey.”

  He let out a small laugh, the kind that made it unclear if he was joking or half-serious. Then his expression shifted—still playful, but with a flicker of something real underneath.

  “Hey,” he said after a beat, eyes drifting toward the stars above them. “What if we ditched this place? Vinny and I have been talking about it… jumping town, heading to L.A. for real.”

  Aubrey’s head snapped toward him, eyes wide, caught entirely off guard.

  “You were planning without me?” she blurted, the words slipping out faster than she meant. Her voice wavered, just a touch.

  “I—I mean… yeah, why?” She tried to smooth it over, but the question still hung there, raw and a little exposed.

  Leo turned toward her, a spark lighting in his eyes that wasn’t there a moment ago.

  “Why waste time here for what?” he said, leaning back on his hands like the night itself was his stage. “We’re gonna do something fun. And besides—” he laughed under his breath, cocky but earnest, “—we know we’re so fucking good at playing. We’re bound to catch fire there.”

  Aubrey hesitated, her mouth opening like she wanted to say something, but nothing came out at first. Her fingers fidgeted with the edge of her sketchbook, eyes flicking between Leo and the glowing town below.

  Leo leaned forward a little, catching that hesitation and steamrolling right through it with his usual charm.

  “Besides,” he said, his grin widening, “you said it yourself—you wanna be free, right? All of us.”

  He tilted his head, eyes glinting under the starlight. “Then you can show your real genius, my shining star.”

  Aubrey’s face lit up before she could stop it, a spark breaking through her usual guarded calm.

  “Y-yeah,” she stammered, a small, disbelieving laugh slipping out. “Yes. I mean—yes. But… when?”

  Leo’s grin sharpened, like he’d been waiting for that question. He leaned back on his hands, eyes still on her.

  “A couple days from now,” he said casually, like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Saturday night.”

  Aubrey let out a breathy giggle, her face warming until she had to glance away. “Saturday night,” she repeated softly, almost to herself. Then she looked back at him, cheeks flushed, eyes bright. “Here, Lookout Point.” Leo smiled.

  “I’ll follow you anywhere,” she said, the words slipping out more honest than she expected.

  The stars hung bright above them, the night air cool and alive with possibility.

  ?

  A floorboard creaked under her sneaker. Aubrey froze in the dark hallway, heart thudding in her chest. She adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder, hoodie pulled tight, hair tied back. The house was still—TV off, lights out, only the low hum of the fridge filling the silence.

  She slipped toward the back door, sneakers dangling from one hand to keep them quiet.

  A soft whine broke the quiet. Aubrey turned to see the dog padding toward her, tail wagging slowly, eyes bright even in the dim light. She crouched down, fingers sinking into his fur as he pressed his head against her chest.

  “Hey, buddy,” she whispered, a wobbly smile tugging at her mouth. She kissed the top of his head, breathing in that warm, familiar dog smell. “I’ll come back to see you one day. Promise.”

  His tail thumped once against the floor. She gave him one last squeeze, then stood, slipping her sneakers on and easing the back door open.

  The cool night air met her like a secret. She stepped out onto the porch, letting the door ease shut behind her with a soft click.

  Above, storm clouds were gathering slow and heavily, their edges bruised against the stars. A low roll of thunder crept across the sky, distant but steady, like the sound of a giant turning in its sleep. The breeze had shifted too, cooler now, tugging lightly at the hem of her hoodie as if to warn her.

  Aubrey pulled the strap of her bag higher on her shoulder and started down the street. The neighborhood was quiet at this hour, porch lights flicking on here and there, puddles of warm yellow against the dark. Her sneakers scuffed softly on the pavement as she walked, glancing once over her shoulder, not out of fear, but because some part of her knew this moment wouldn’t come again.

  She slipped her phone from her hoodie pocket, the screen’s glow cutting through the night. Her thumbs moved quickly:

  just left. i’ll see you soon ??

  She stared at the message for a heartbeat, then hit send. The bubble disappeared into the ether. A faint smile tugged at her mouth—nervous and excited all at once—as thunder murmured again somewhere overhead.

  She shoved the phone back into her pocket and kept walking, the wind pushing gently at her back like it was ushering her forward.

  By the time she reached the hill, the first distant flashes of lightning had started to flicker behind the clouds. The grass brushed against her jeans as she climbed the slope, damp with the day’s leftover warmth and the coming storm’s cool breath. From up here, the town stretched out below in scattered constellations of streetlights and glowing windows, small and far away like something she could hold in her hand if she reached out.

  She dropped her bag beside the crooked old tree at the top and sat down, legs folding beneath her. The hilltop was quiet except for the low rumble of thunder and the faint rustle of the grass. The familiar weight grounding her.

  The sky above was darkening fast, the stars slipping in and out behind drifting clouds. She glanced toward the road below, expecting to see headlights any minute.

  She unzipped her bag and pulled out her sketchbook, flipping past pages of doodles and quiet moments until she stopped on one near the middle. Her breath caught slightly. It was the drawing she’d worked on earlier—her and Leo sitting right here at lookout point, the tree leaning in the background, the town sprawled below like a painted sky.

  A smile tugged softly at her lips, unguarded and real. She smoothed her hand over the page like she was afraid it might smear, then set the book in her lap, open.

  Her phone came out next. She checked the screen—no new messages. She locked it, then unlocked it again, thumb hovering over the notifications like maybe she’d missed something—still nothing.

  She glanced down at the drawing again, smile lingering, then back to the road below. Any minute now.

  She sat cross-legged on the grass, dropping her bag beside her. The wind tugged at the corners of her hoodie. She flipped open her sketchbook to the drawing of her and Leo at Lookout Point, smiling faintly at the unfinished lines. Her phone screen lit her face as she rechecked it—no response.

  With a quiet exhale, she set the phone down beside her and picked up her pencil, adding soft shading to the sky in the drawing…

  Above, the clouds thickened. The streetlights in town blinked on one by one below, scattering golden dots through the dark. Her pencil kept moving—slow, deliberate lines filling the page—as the night settled deeper around her.

  Aubrey flipped the hood over her head as the drizzle thickened, droplets pattering softly against the fabric. She pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them, shoulders hunching against the damp chill.

  Her phone screen lit the shadows around her as she opened their last message. The little “Delivered” beneath it stared back like a quiet wall. She exhaled through her nose, slow and shaky, then tapped the call icon.

  One ring. Two. Three. Four.

  Voicemail.

  She hung up, thumb hovering for only a heartbeat before she hit call again.

  This time, the line didn’t even ring-it went straight to that flat, mechanical tone—the kind that didn’t bother with greetings, just a blunt end of the line.

  Aubrey’s breath caught in her throat. She lowered the phone slowly, staring at the screen. A small, bewildered gasp slipped out.

  The drizzle kept falling, soft and steady, threading through her hair and dampening the edges of her hoodie. She didn’t move. Her eyes drifted back toward the town below, its lights blurred faintly through the curtain of light rain.

  She sat there in silence, phone limp in her hand, the world ahead of her steady and indifferent.

  She lowered the phone into her lap and pulled the sketchbook back out, fingers trembling just enough to catch on the damp cover. Flipping to the page, she stared down at the drawing — the hill, the fence, the two figures side by side under a sky she’d shaded soft and endless.

  Raindrops speckled the paper, blooming into uneven gray circles that blurred her pencil lines. She shielded it half-heartedly with her hand, but more drops slipped through, crawling across the page like tiny cracks in glass.

  Her throat tightened. She traced one of the smeared lines with her thumb, smudging it further.

  Tears slipped down her cheeks before she even realized she was crying. They struck the page with soft, uneven taps, mingling with the rain until she couldn’t tell which was which. Her face tightened, lips trembling as a strained grin flickered through—half disbelief, half trying to keep herself together.

  She caught herself once, twice, wiping at her cheeks with the heel of her hand, but the tears kept coming anyway. A low boom of thunder rolled across the distance, slow and heavy, and the drizzle pattered steadily around her, soft enough to feel every drop on her hoodie.

  The sketch blurred beneath her, the figures on the hill dissolving into a wash of gray.

  Thunder rumbled the hills, a rolling growl that seemed to vibrate through the wet grass. Aubrey hugged her knees tighter, hood pulled low, staring out at the dark horizon through the thin veil of rain.

  Her breathing slowed, the sound of the drizzle becoming a kind of numb lull—steady, quiet, and distant.

  She wouldn’t make that mistake again.

  RING RING.

  Aubrey jolted awake. Her heart kicked hard against her ribs as her eyes flew open, the ceiling of her apartment swimming into view. Her phone buzzed violently on the balcony beside her, screen flashing in the early morning gray, caller ID ‘NYPD’. She sat up, rain still echoing faintly in her mind, her pulse trying to catch up with the present.

  “Hey, what’s up, Brooke?” Vince’s voice cracked through, rough but familiar.

  “Hey, Vince,” Aubrey said, adjusting to being awake. “Brian left his case notes in my car yesterday. Think if I swing by before work, you can give them to him later?”

  “Uh… maybe not, Brooke. Captain’s out for the day, Brian went with him. Giants game.”

  “So, three reasons to take today off?” Aubrey cut in, dry amusement in her tone.

  Vince huffed. “Four. We had a scene come in. Fresh one. Stonetown Apartments. Slater’s running point.”

  “That’s definitely not making me want to hurry.”

  “Yeah, well…” Vince trailed, voice dipping. “Someone also called yesterday, asking for you. About a debt—under the name… Sarah Archer? Paper came in; I just left it on your desk.”

  The blanket slipped from Aubrey’s shoulders. For a beat, her lips parted, silent. Then she forced steel back into her tone. “I… haven’t heard that name in a long time. That was my mother. Don’t worry about it. Just… leave the details on my desk.”

  “All right. And Brooke?” Vince’s voice softened. “Outside scene today. Wear a jacket. Oh—and bring those notes to me, or Brian will turn them into a fantasy football spreadsheet by the weekend.”

  Aubrey let out a breath that almost became a laugh, the tension snapping for half a second. “Okay. See you soon.”

  The line went dead.

  She set the phone down, rubbed the thin jewelry ring on her left hand, and whispered, barely audible:

  "Can't even let her rest."