~blur reality
The sky above the orphanage carried that pale afternoon color that couldn’t decide whether it wanted to be warm or distant. Sunlight filtered through thin drifting clouds, spilling over the yard in uneven patches. The swings creaked lazily. Dry leaves scratched along the pavement in the wind like whispers that never quite formed words.
Ana sat alone on the old wooden bench near the far fence. The paint had long since chipped away, leaving splinters that caught fabric and skin alike. She didn’t notice anymore. She rarely noticed discomfort.
She was somewhere else.
Lost between the version of herself the world saw and the version that existed only when she stared at nothing.
The world saw a quiet girl who smiled often.
The other version carried silence like armor.
The soccer ball rolled across the cracked pavement and stopped against her shoe.
“Ana!”
The voice sliced through her thoughts.
She blinked slowly, returning to the yard.
Dan stood twenty feet away, hands on his hips, red baseball cap tilted slightly sideways. Around him, a cluster of boys lingered in lazy expectation. They weren’t involved. They were spectators.
“Throw it back!” he called again.
She lowered her gaze to the ball.
Then back to him.
“No.”
She didn’t raise her voice. She didn’t need to.
The yard shifted. Laughter faded.
Dan walked toward her, slow steps dragging dust across the pavement.
“You really enjoy testing your limits, huh?”
She stood up before he reached her. Instinct. Distance.
His hand shot out and shoved her.
The back of her head hit the concrete edge of the bench with a dull thud. The sound echoed louder in her skull than in the yard. A flash of white burst behind her eyes.
The boys laughed. Not cruelly. Not kindly. Just because something had happened.
“She never learns,” someone muttered.
Ana pressed her palm against the back of her head. Warm. Not bleeding. Good.
Dan crouched slightly, bringing his face level with hers.
“You know,” he said quietly, “it would be easier if you just acted normal.”
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
He nudged her shin with his shoe. Not hard. Controlled. Intentional humiliation.
Her fingers trembled. She tightened her jaw. She would not cry. He did not deserve that victory.
Dan grabbed her ponytail and lifted slightly, forcing her chin upward.
“Look at me when I talk.”
Bonk.
The sound cracked through the yard like a snapped branch.
Dan staggered backward, hand flying to his face.
The soccer ball rolled past Ana and thumped softly against the fence.
Silence swallowed the yard.
Lucas stood near the far goalpost, arm still half-raised from the throw. His breathing was shallow. His chest felt tight, like something had locked inside it.
He hadn’t planned it.
He just reacted.
Dan straightened slowly. A faint red mark was already forming across his cheek.
“You’re dead,” someone whispered.
Lucas didn’t move.
Dan began walking toward him.
Each step deliberate. Measured. The kind of walk that didn’t rush because it knew it didn’t have to.
Lucas’ heart hammered so loudly he could barely hear the wind anymore. His legs urged him to step back.
He didn’t.
Dan stopped inches away.
The two boys stood there, air thick between them.
“Pick it up,” Dan said quietly, nodding toward the ball.
Lucas held his ground.
For a second, the world narrowed to breathing and eye contact.
Dan smiled.
It wasn’t friendly.
And something in the yard shifted permanently.
Chapter 03 - Forgotten Ashes...
The café windows stretched from floor to ceiling, catching the morning light and bending it into soft gold across polished marble floors. Outside, traffic moved in clean lines. People walked with purpose. No one shoved anyone here.
Ana sat near the window, newspaper unfolded neatly in front of her. The scent of roasted coffee beans blended with caramel and vanilla drifting from the pastry counter.
Her eyes scanned the print, but she wasn’t absorbing the words.
“Anything you wish, madam?”
She glanced up. The waiter stood straight-backed, notepad ready.
“Yes. I would like…”
Her gaze drifted to the display case.
Chocolate éclairs glossed under the light. Strawberry tarts shimmered. Cinnamon rolls rested like coiled spirals of comfort.
Choosing one felt like betrayal.
Ridiculous thought.
Still real.
“I would like—”
“Two cappuccinos. Five random pastries.”
Lucas’ voice slid into the space behind her like he’d always been there.
She stiffened slightly.
The waiter blinked, scribbled quickly, and retreated.
Lucas pulled the chair back and sat down beside her, leaning casually but watching everything.
“You hesitate too much,” he said lightly.
“You interfere too quickly.”
He smiled faintly.
Their shoulders nearly touched. Neither moved.
She noticed his watch.
8:46.
“You’re waiting,” she said.
“Observant.”
“For whom?”
“Someone important.”
“To you?”
He didn’t answer immediately.
“To business.”
She folded the newspaper carefully and slid it toward him.
“Read.”
He glanced down.
Hunter Back to the Criminal World: Murder at Queensboro.
The headline felt heavy even in print.
Before he could respond, the café door opened.
Conversation softened without stopping entirely.
A man in a tailored grey suit entered, movements precise. Four men in black followed at measured distance.
Joseph Dominions.
His eyes scanned the room once before locking onto Lucas.
Lucas stood smoothly.
Their handshake was firm, restrained.
“Mr. Dandrians.”
“Mr. Dominions.”
“And the lady?”
“Ana Roswell.”
Dominions gave her a respectful nod. She acknowledged him with only her eyes.
Upstairs, the air felt cooler. Quieter. The marble floor reflected light sharply.
Dominions placed a slim folder on the table. His fingers lingered on it a fraction too long.
“I require temporary management of my satellite division.”
Lucas skimmed the documents but watched the man more than the ink.
“You look tired,” Lucas said calmly.
Dominions’ lips curved slightly.
“I look hunted.”
Silence pressed in.
“By competitors?” Lucas asked.
“No.”
A breath.
“By something patient.”
Lucas leaned back slowly.
“You believe someone is targeting you.”
“I believe something is circling.”
Dominions stood.
“If you choose to involve yourself beyond contracts, July will not be kind.”
Downstairs, Ana stirred her cappuccino absentmindedly as Lucas returned.
“Well?”
“He’s afraid.”
“Of money?”
“No.”
She nodded once.
“Good. Fear of money is predictable.”
He looked at her.
“You always read people too well.”
“You taught me.”
Outside, clouds gathered faintly along the skyline.
Inside, the newspaper headline rested between them like a shadow that had not yet decided its shape.
Forgotten ashes rarely remain buried.
