Page 64 of Fractured Allegiance

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Just me.

And I go outside.

No destination.

Just movement.

The city doesn’t pause for anyone. I walk three blocks past the station and down an alley shortcut I used to take before I was anyone important. Find a tiny café that makes real espresso and still uses cash.

I order a flat white and a croissant.

No one looks twice at me here.

I take a seat by the window and eat like it’s a religion. Small sips. Small bites. Like tasting things might make them real again.

Then I walk.

Not far. Just enough to feel like I’m not someone’s marked territory.

And when I pass a boutique I’ve never seen before—low windows, copper sign, a mannequin in the window wearing a long, slinky dark green slip—I stop.

I don’t think about it.

I go in.

Inside smells like cedar and silk. A woman greets me without asking my name. Doesn’t recognize me. Doesn’t care.

I let my fingers run over fabric I’d never wear in Drazen’s world. Patterns too bold. Necks too high. Sleeves too soft.

I pick out a pair of earrings I’ll probably never wear and a pale blue scarf that feels like air between my hands.

It’s nothing.

But it’s mine.

When I’m walking back, my phone buzzes.

I check the screen.

Dom.

“I’m passing through your end. If you don’t mind a lift, I don’t mind the company. Don’t forget the red.”

My fingers tighten on the phone.

The city is gold around me. The wind has teeth. The night is coming, and the game is about to begin again.

I look up at the sky once, then start walking faster.

By the time I get back to my building, the light outside has gone cold.

The sun’s still up, but barely—edging behind the rooftops like it’s ducking from what comes next. I can feel dusk gathering even before it arrives. The light thins. The wind stings. Everything smells faintly metallic.

I take the stairs two at a time.

Not because I’m in a rush.

Because I need to move before I change my mind.

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