Projected Q2 earnings.Adjustments to operational workflow.Executive travel itinerary.
I’m about to move on when something makes me pause.
Initiation scheduled.
It’s buried halfway down the page.Sandwiched between a supply chain memo and a compliance audit.Like it’s trying to disappear into the white noise of bureaucratic nothingness.
I frown.
Initiation for who?For what?
I scroll back up, looking for context.There isn’t any.No department name.No attendees.Just those two words, wedged into an otherwise routine list of logistics.
My eyes freeze on it, unwilling to budge, as if my mind is wrestling with a truth my instinct has already grasped.
I tell myself to let it go—and mostly, I do.
I minimize the file and stare at my screen.
A quiet discomfort settles in, but I can’t place it.
But I don’t have long to think about it because my email pings again.
From: Andra
Subject: Daily Priorities
Reminder: Mr.Harrison expects your reports by end of day.
I rub my temples.
The first rule of Shergar is that no one tells you the rules.
I’m starting to think the second rule is that no one questions them.
And I’m not sure which is more dangerous.
Although, I have a feeling I’m about to find out.
12
Gillian
The car ride is silent.
I don’t ask where we’re going.
I already know.
Ellis’s home is the kind of place you don’t forget, even if they try to make you.Especially then.
The driver doesn’t speak.His hands grip the wheel, ten and two, eyes fixed on the road.Outside, the city blurs into a smear of neon and shadow.Inside, it’s too quiet—traffic noise muted by tinted glass, the thick silence of the back seat stretching between us.The leather creaks when I shift, a small sound that seems too loud in the heavy stillness.
I catch my reflection in the window—my own face staring back.Blank.Unreadable.
I wonder if I’m forgetting something important.
No.