Bow Wow Castle Complex, Luxury Suites, April 10, 2021
15:11 local time,
City of Cuyahoga Castles, Sovereignty of Ohio, UCSS
Evie stood around, holding hands with Carl and sipping some
fruity drink she picked up at the open bar. About the only thing she was
enjoying was being able to suntan and feel the sun on this unexpectedly hot
day.
The courtyard shimmered in the heat. Stone walls that had
once been defensive now reflected light back at the crowd in soft gold waves.
Someone had strung white fabric between two towers to create shade, but most
people avoided it, preferring the optics of being seen in full sun.
Carl’s hand was clammy.
He hadn’t let go since they arrived.
“You okay?” she asked softly.
“Yeah,” he said too quickly. “Just… a lot of people.”
Music pulsed from a rented speaker system wedged awkwardly
between columns. Laughter ricocheted off stone. Ice clinked in glasses.
A voice carried over the noise- Rayna’s.
Evie didn’t mean to listen, but Rayna’s voice always cut
through.
“…no, Greg couldn’t make it,” Rayna was saying to a small
cluster near the bar. “He’s a pilot. He’s literally in Perth right now.”
Someone gasped lightly. “Australia?”
“Yeah,” Rayna said confidently. “Layover. He’s literally on
the beach right now enjoying the Sun. I’m so jealous.”
Evie felt something tighten behind her ribs.
Perth.
She did the math automatically.
It would be-
Three in the morning.
Not beach hours.
Not “jealous” hours.
Evie stared at the surface of her drink, watching melted ice
spin lazily.
Maybe Rayna meant tomorrow.
Maybe Greg had flown earlier.
Maybe the time zones had blurred.
Maybe.
She didn’t look up.
She didn’t want to catch Rayna’s eye and make the lie solid.
Because if it was a lie-
Then Greg wasn’t real.
…and if Greg wasn’t real-
Evie didn’t want to follow that thought to its end.
She squeezed Carl’s hand a little tighter.
“You ever think Greg’s schedule is weird?” she asked
quietly.
Carl blinked. “What?”
“Greg,” she said. “Rayna’s boyfriend. The pilot.”
“Oh. Uh.” Carl shifted his weight. His eyes kept drifting
toward the center of the courtyard where a louder crowd had formed. “Maybe.
Pilots travel a lot.”
“It’s three in the morning in Perth,” Evie said.
Carl frowned, processing.
“Maybe he’s- I don’t know. Maybe he’s on standby?” Carl
offered weakly.
Evie waited for him to look at her.
He didn’t.
His jaw was tight.
Across the courtyard, someone whooped loudly.
A chant started- incoherent but rhythmic.
Carl flinched slightly.
“I kind of hate this,” he muttered.
Evie studied him instead of Rayna now.
He wasn’t listening.
He was surviving.
“It’s fine,” she said gently. “We can leave soon.”
Carl nodded immediately.
Relief flooded his face so obviously it made her chest ache.
“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, that’d be good.”
Evie glanced back toward Rayna.
Rayna was laughing now, leaning into someone’s shoulder,
telling another story about Greg- something about turbulence and champagne.
The crowd believed her.
Why wouldn’t they?
Evie told herself the details didn’t matter.
People got details wrong all the time.
She told herself she was being unfair.
She told herself she was overthinking.
Across the courtyard, Pratley was not overthinking anything.
He had abandoned subtlety sometime between his third and
fourth drink. His laughter cut through everything- sharp, delighted,
uncontained.
“Cozens!” he shouted suddenly, raising a glass in one hand.
“You think you’ve got an arm? I bet you don’t.”
The chant faltered.
Heads turned.
Drake Cozens stood near the pool area, shirtless, relaxed, a
drink balanced casually in his hand. He didn’t need to shout to command space.
He just looked at Pratley.
A slow smile.
Pratley pointed dramatically. “Arm throw. Longest toss wins.
Castle wall to the tower. What do you say?”
A few people laughed.
Someone muttered, “He’s drunk.”
Cozens tilted his head slightly.
“You’re a fool,” he said, not loudly- but the words carried.
Pratley beamed like it was praise.
“Then beat me,” he said.
Evie felt Carl’s grip tighten again.
“This is going to get stupid,” Carl murmured.
Evie didn’t disagree…but she couldn’t stop watching.
Pratley had that look now.
The one that meant he wasn’t going to back down…and Cozens
had the opposite look.
The one that meant he didn’t have to.
Evie let Carl’s hand slip from hers.
“I’m going to get another drink,” she said.
Carl nodded too quickly, eyes still fixed on the growing
spectacle near the pool. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”
He didn’t look relieved.
He looked overwhelmed.
Evie crossed the courtyard alone.
The open bar had been set up beneath a faded crest carved
into the stone — some forgotten noble house now repurposed for vodka and fruit
garnish.
The bartender was moving fast, barely making eye contact.
“Same?” he asked.
Evie nodded.
“Make it lighter,” she added quietly.
“Good call,” a voice beside her said.
She turned.
The man standing next to her looked sunburned in the way
only athletes did- skin perpetually one shade too warm. Clean-cut. Slightly
tense in posture. Holding a drink he clearly didn’t want.
“Sorry?” she asked.
“Lighter,” he repeated. “I’ve had two of these and I already
regret both.”
He offered a small, apologetic smile.
“Kyle made me come,” he added, nodding toward the far side
of the courtyard.
Evie followed his gaze.
Kyle Edwards stood near the pool, relaxed, amused, already
part of the spectacle. Even out of uniform, he moved like someone accustomed to
being watched.
“You’re here with Kyle Edwards?” Evie asked.
“Unfortunately,” the man replied dryly. “Bruce.”
He held out a hand.
“Evie.”
They shook.
“Baseball?” she asked, recognizing him now in pieces.
“Second season,” he said. “Borealis Bay.”
Evie winced slightly.
“I’m sorry.”
Bruce huffed a laugh. “You don’t have to say it like that.”
“The Bacon aren’t… great,” she said gently.
“They’re terrible,” Bruce corrected. “I hit well. We still
lose. Every time I start to feel good about something, I look up and we’re down
six runs.”
The bartender handed Evie her drink.
Bruce stared into his own like it had personally offended
him.
“I used to love this,” he said. “Baseball. It felt clean.
Now it feels like I’m just… surviving games.”
Evie took a careful sip.
“I think I’m just surviving this,” she said.
Bruce glanced at her.
“Bad date?” he asked lightly.
Evie hesitated.
“Not bad,” she said. “Just… wrong temperature.”
Bruce raised an eyebrow.
“He hates it here,” she clarified. “I don’t hate it. I just
don’t belong.”
Bruce nodded slowly.
“That’s the theme tonight.”
She studied him for a moment.
“There’s this girl,” she said. “My best friend…she keeps
talking about her boyfriend. A pilot. In Perth.”
“Exotic,” Bruce said.
“It’s three in the morning in Perth,” Evie replied.
Bruce blinked.
“Oh.”
“She says he’s on a beach.”
Bruce considered this.
“Maybe he’s nocturnal.”
Evie smiled faintly despite herself.
“Or maybe she’s lying,” she said.
Bruce tilted his head.
“Why would she lie about that?”
Evie shrugged.
“Because everyone here has something impressive…and maybe
she thinks she needs something too.”
Behind them-
A heavy thud cracked against stone.
Both of them flinched.
“Arm throw!” Pratley’s voice shouted triumphantly.
A bottle shattered somewhere near the pool.
Someone cursed.
Bruce exhaled slowly. “He’s been at it for twenty minutes.”
“You know him?” Evie asked.
“Everyone knows him,” Bruce said. “He doesn’t do volume
control.”
Another crash.
Laughter.
Cozens’ voice cut through this time- lower, controlled,
irritated.
“Higher,” Pratley yelled. “Tower ledge!”
“That’s masonry,” someone objected.
A small decorative lantern toppled over, clanging against
tile.
Kyle’s laughter joined the noise now.
Bruce rubbed his forehead.
“I didn’t want to come,” he admitted. “Kyle said I needed to
‘get out of my head.’”
“…and?” Evie asked.
Bruce gestured around them.
“Still in it.”
A wooden chair skidded loudly across stone.
The bartender ducked instinctively as something whizzed past
and struck a pillar.
“That’s it,” Bruce muttered.
Another object flew- this time clattering against the bar
itself.
Evie instinctively stepped closer to him.
“Maybe we should-”
A louder crash interrupted her- glass exploding somewhere
too near for comfort.
Without thinking, Bruce grabbed her wrist.
“Come on.”
They bolted toward the nearest archway, ducking past
startled guests and slipping into a side corridor barely lit by sconces.
The music dulled instantly.
Another throw echoed behind them- then shouting.
Bruce pushed open a heavy wooden door at the end of the
hall.
It gave way into a small private chamber- low-ceilinged,
quieter, furnished with mismatched chairs and a long unused table.
He closed the door.
The noise dropped to a distant rumble.
For a second, neither of them spoke.
Evie realized her heart was racing.
Not from fear.
From the sudden quiet.
Bruce let go of her wrist gently.
“Sorry,” he said.
“It’s fine,” she replied.
They stood there- two people who hadn’t meant to escape
together.
Outside, something else crashed.
Inside, it felt strangely suspended.
The private room muffled the party into something distant
and shapeless. The shouting, the music, the crashes- all of it became
background noise, like weather you knew was there but didn’t have to face yet.
Bruce leaned back against the table, still catching his
breath from the dash inside. Evie stood a few feet away, turning her drink
slowly in her hands, ice clicking softly against the glass.
“For what it’s worth,” Bruce said, “I didn’t actually want
to come tonight.”
“Me neither,” Evie replied.
They both smiled at that- not flirtatiously, just relieved.
Silence settled comfortably for a moment.
Then Evie spoke again.
“My best friend has this boyfriend,” she said. “Greg. At
least… she says she does.”
Bruce nodded for her to continue.
“She’s told me about him for years,” Evie went on. “Pilot.
Travels everywhere. Romantic gestures. Sunrise photos from different countries.
He supposedly texts her before every takeoff.”
She paused.
“…but today she said he was on a beach in Perth.”
Bruce didn’t interrupt.
“It’s three in the morning there,” Evie said quietly, “and
suddenly… all those stories started feeling different. Like maybe I wasn’t
hearing about a relationship. Maybe I was hearing about something she needed to
believe in.”
Bruce shifted slightly, thoughtful.
“That’s rough,” he said. “Especially if you looked up to
it.”
“I did,” Evie admitted. “I thought she had this perfect
thing…and I thought… I should be further along by now. I should have something
like that too.”
She laughed softly, but there was no humor in it.
“And if it isn’t real? Then what was I jealous of? What have
I been measuring myself against?”
Bruce met her eyes.
“Probably a story,” he said gently.
Evie exhaled. The tension she’d been carrying all afternoon
loosened a little.
“Yeah,” she said. “A story.”
She looked at him then- really looked. Bruce wasn’t
polished. He wasn’t dramatic. He wasn’t selling anything. Just honest, slightly
uncomfortable, trying to survive a party he didn’t want to attend.
Real.
And suddenly that felt like enough.
“I’m tired of waiting for something perfect,” she said.
Bruce didn’t move closer. Didn’t assume. He just listened.
“I don’t want some cinematic relationship,” she added. “I
don’t want curated photos or stories that sound good. I just want something
that’s… actually happening.”
A quiet moment stretched between them.
Then she stepped forward.
Slowly. Deliberately.
Bruce’s expression softened, but he still gave her space to
stop.
She didn’t.
Their first kiss was tentative- more question than
declaration. Not polished, not practiced, just genuine. When they separated,
Bruce searched her face.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“Yes,” Evie said, and this time there was no hesitation.
The decision felt steady, not impulsive. Not driven by
jealousy anymore, but by clarity. She wasn’t chasing Rayna’s stories. She
wasn’t proving anything. She was choosing something real, something present,
something hers.
They stayed in that quiet room while the party continued
without them. Conversation faded, replaced by comfortable silence, small
reassurances, the simple understanding that neither of them needed perfection
from the other.
Later, when they lay side by side, Evie didn’t feel
transformed or dramatic. Just calm. Grounded.
Bruce brushed a strand of hair from her face.
“You okay?” he asked.
She nodded.
“Yeah,” she said. “Actually… yeah.”
And for the first time that afternoon, she believed it.
Outside, the noise of the party crept back in, reminding
them the world hadn’t stopped. But something inside Evie had settled.
Not because she’d caught up to anyone.
Because she’d stopped comparing.
The noise of the party had faded into a distant hum.
They were still lying on the narrow bed, the room dim except
for the thin line of late-afternoon light sneaking past the curtains. Bruce’s
arm was wrapped around her, and Evie had tucked herself against his chest
without thinking about it. Their legs were tangled. Neither seemed in a hurry
to move.
Evie felt warm everywhere.
Not just physically- though there was that- but internally.
A kind of brightness under her skin she didn’t know how to name. Everything
felt amplified: the steady rhythm of Bruce’s breathing, the warmth of his hand
at her waist, the faint echo of laughter down the hallway.
She laughed softly.
“What?” Bruce murmured.
“I just…” She shook her head against his shoulder. “I didn’t
know it was going to feel like that.”
Bruce smiled into her hair.
“Like what?”
“Like that,” she repeated, embarrassed and glowing at the
same time.
She pulled back slightly so she could see his face. Her
expression was open in a way she hadn’t practiced.
“You’re not… guessing, are you?” she asked suddenly.
“Guessing?”
“About me. About whether I- ”
He blinked.
“Evie,” he said gently, “no.”
She searched his face anyway, as if she needed confirmation
from more than words.
Normally, Bruce found himself wondering after moments like
this- replaying them, trying to read signs, unsure whether he’d missed
something. He was used to asking, almost nervously, “Did you…?” afterward.
…but this time, there was no uncertainty.
He could see it.
In the way she couldn’t quite stop smiling.
In the way she was still pressed close to him.
In the softness in her eyes that hadn’t been there before.
“You don’t have to ask,” he said quietly.
Evie flushed deeper.
“I just wanted to make sure,” she admitted. “I don’t even
know what I’m supposed to know yet.”
Bruce brushed his thumb lightly along her arm.
“You don’t need to know anything. You just need to feel it.”
She let that settle.
Her body still felt different. Sensitive. Awake. Like she
had stepped through a door she hadn’t realized was there.
She rested her head against his chest again, listening to
his heartbeat.
“Is it always like this?” she asked after a moment.
Bruce hesitated- not because he didn’t want to answer, but
because he wanted to answer honestly.
“No,” he said.
She stiffened slightly.
He tightened his hold on her, not possessive- reassuring.
“It’s not always this intense,” he clarified. “First times
are… different. Everything’s new. Everything’s louder.”
She was quiet.
“…but,” he added softly, “when you’re with the right person?
It doesn’t have to be loud. It just feels right. You’ll know.”
Evie traced a small circle absentmindedly on his chest.
“How?”
“You won’t be wondering,” he said. “You won’t be comparing.
You won’t be trying to measure it against something else. It’ll just feel
steady.”
That word lingered.
Steady.
Not cinematic.
Not curated.
Not a beach in Perth at three in the morning.
Real.
Evie closed her eyes and let herself stay there a little
longer- suspended between the chaos outside and the quiet inside.
For the first time all afternoon, she wasn’t thinking about
Rayna.
Or Greg.
Or whether she was behind.
She wasn’t measuring anything.
She was just there…and it felt like enough.
They lay there longer than either of them meant to.
The quiet had turned comfortable- almost dangerous in how
easily it could convince them to stay.
Evie lifted her head slightly, studying Bruce’s face. He
looked different now. Not mysterious. Not impressive. Just… known.
“Can I ask you something?” she said.
“You already have,” he replied softly.
She smiled faintly.
“No, I mean really ask.”
He nodded.
She took a breath.
“Would you… want to be my boyfriend?”
There it was. No games. No easing into it.
Bruce’s expression didn’t change immediately, but something
thoughtful moved behind his eyes.
“Evie…”
She felt the shift before he even continued.
“I live near the Arctic Circle,” he said gently. “Literally.
Borealis Bay is closer to polar bears than it is to here.”
She tried to smile.
“I know.”
“My season’s long. Travel’s worse…and when it’s over, I’m
back north,” he continued. “I don’t think… I don’t think that’s something that
turns into a real relationship.”
He wasn’t dismissing her.
He wasn’t laughing.
He was being careful.
Evie swallowed.
The glow dimmed a little- not extinguished, just softer.
“Okay,” she said.
He tightened his arm around her.
“I don’t regret this,” he added quickly. “Not even a little.
And I’m not pretending it didn’t matter.”
She nodded against his chest.
“I just don’t want to promise you something I can’t actually
give,” he said.
Evie closed her eyes briefly.
There was disappointment there.
…but it wasn’t humiliation.
It wasn’t rejection.
It wasn’t confusion.
It was reality…and reality, she was learning, was better
than a story.
“I get it,” she said quietly. “You don’t live here.”
“…and you deserve someone who does,” he replied.
She looked up at him again.
“I’m still going to compare everyone to you,” she said.
Bruce raised an eyebrow.
“That’s a lot of pressure.”
“I’m serious,” she said. “This is my baseline now. Even
Greg.”
Bruce laughed softly. “Greg?”
“Long story,” she said.
He brushed his thumb gently along her cheek.
“Then I hope whoever comes next is better than me,” he said.
“Because that’s what you should have.”
She studied him.
For a moment, she wished geography worked differently.
Then she leaned in and kissed him again- slower this time.
Not exploratory. Not uncertain.
Intentional.
When they finally separated, the noise of the party filtered
back in, reminding them of where they were.
Bruce exhaled.
“We should probably go before they demolish the courtyard.”
Evie smiled.
“Yeah.”
They stood, adjusting clothing, smoothing hair, stepping
back into themselves.
Before opening the door, Evie paused.
“Thank you,” she said.
Bruce nodded once.
“I’ll remember this,” he said.
“So will I.”
They stepped back into the corridor, the music swelling
louder with each step toward the courtyard.
Evie felt lighter.
Not because she had caught up to anyone…but because she had
stopped chasing something imaginary.
She had chosen something real…and that felt like a
beginning.
When Evie stepped back into the courtyard, the party felt
louder than before.
Not darker exactly. Just harsher around the edges. The music
seemed more insistent, laughter a little too sharp. Bruce drifted back toward
Kyle with an easy nod, and Evie scanned the crowd until she found Rayna near
the bar again.
Rayna lit up when she saw her.
“Oh my God, where did you go?” she asked, grabbing Evie’s
arm. “I’ve been telling everyone about Greg’s Perth layover- people are
obsessed. One girl asked if he has a brother.”
Evie held her gaze.
“I lost my virginity,” she said simply.
Rayna blinked.
“What?”
Evie gestured lightly across the courtyard. Bruce was
visible near the far archway, laughing at something Kyle said.
“Him,” Evie clarified.
For a second Rayna didn’t react.
Then the expression on her face fractured. The brightness
drained. Her mouth opened slightly, like she wanted to say something but
couldn’t find the air.
Her eyes filled.
Before Evie could speak again, Rayna turned and hurried
away, weaving through the crowd with sudden urgency.
“Rayna-” Evie started, then followed.
It took a minute to find her. Another side room, smaller
than the one Evie had just left. Rayna stood near the window, shoulders
shaking, wiping furiously at her face.
“Hey,” Evie said quietly.
Rayna didn’t turn at first.
Then she did- and the composure she usually wore so easily
was completely gone.
“There is no Greg,” she blurted.
The words hung in the room.
Evie didn’t move.
“I made him up,” Rayna continued, voice trembling. “At first
it was just a story. Something fun. Something that made me sound less… pathetic…and
then people liked it. They liked the pilot thing, the travel thing, the
romance.”
She laughed weakly through tears.
“…and you liked it too.”
Evie still didn’t speak.
“My mom barely notices me,” Rayna said, the words coming
faster now. “She’s always chasing some guy who might pay the bills. I was an
accident. I’ve always felt like one. Greg was something that was mine.
Something good.”
She swallowed.
“I’m not even a virgin,” she added softly, “but none of it’s
been… good. I keep thinking if I just give people what they want, they’ll stay.
Mostly they don’t.”
Silence stretched.
“I wanted to tell you,” Rayna said finally. “So many times…but
you loved the stories. You got this look- like you believed in them…and I
thought… if I break that, maybe I break us.”
Her voice cracked.
“…but seeing you tonight,” she continued, “seeing you happy
like that? Real happy? Not story happy… I realized I don’t want to lose the one
real thing I actually have.”
A long pause.
“I don’t want to lose you,” she whispered.
Evie stood there, absorbing it.
No anger showed.
No comfort either.
Just stillness.
Then she turned.
Rayna’s face collapsed.
“Evie-”
…but Evie didn’t answer. She walked out quietly, closing the
door behind her.
Inside the room, Rayna sank onto the chair by the window and
finally let herself cry- not the polished tears she showed in public, but the
messy, shaking kind she’d been holding back for years.
Evie didn’t go back into the crowd.
She drifted.
Past the bar.
Past the shattered lantern glass someone had halfheartedly swept aside.
Past Bruce, who didn’t see her leave.
The hot tub sat off to the side of the courtyard, partially
shielded by a low stone wall and a decorative lattice meant to suggest privacy
without actually providing it.
Steam curled upward in lazy spirals.
Evie slipped off her shoes and eased herself into the water.
It was too hot at first.
Then it wasn’t.
She sank until only her shoulders and head remained above
the surface.
The noise of the party dulled- not because it quieted, but
because she stopped hearing it.
All she could hear was Rayna’s voice.
There is no Greg.
Years.
Years of stories.
Sunrise photos that were always just out of frame.
Text messages read aloud but never shown.
Missed calls during important events.
Grand gestures that conveniently happened offscreen.
…and Evie had listened to all of it.
Had believed it.
Had compared herself to it.
She had measured her own life against something fictional.
She had felt behind because of a story.
The water lapped softly against her collarbones.
She stared at the opposite wall.
Was that betrayal?
Or was it desperation?
Did it matter?
Rayna had built something fake and invited Evie into it.
That felt like betrayal.
Yet Rayna had also just admitted everything.
That felt like trust.
Evie pressed her lips together.
Could she forgive that?
Could she sit across from Rayna again and not hear every old
story echo differently?
The hot water felt suffocating suddenly.
She adjusted, letting herself float back slightly, eyes
half-closed.
Across the courtyard, a roar went up.
She didn’t look.
She didn’t care.
Behind her, Pratley’s voice cut through the air one last
time- triumphant and strained.
“Beat that!”
A second later came the dull, unmistakable thud of something
heavy striking stone far too hard.
Cozens stepped forward calmly, wiping his hands on his
shorts.
“Done,” he said.
Pratley stood breathing hard, flushed, adrenaline spiking
and fading all at once.
Cozens extended a hand.
“No cash,” he said evenly. “Just don’t talk about it like
you won.”
Pratley laughed loudly- too loudly.
“Deal.”
They shook.
Cozens’ grip was firm but brief. Efficient. Controlled.
He had won. That was enough.
He turned away first, already disengaging, pride intact.
Pratley stayed rooted a moment longer.
The energy that had carried him through the contest didn’t
know where to go now.
He scanned the courtyard.
That was when he saw her.
Evie.
Alone in the hot tub.
Still.
Quiet.
Separate from the party.
His grin shifted.
Not predatory.
Not yet.
Just curious.
He grabbed another drink from a passing tray and made his
way toward her.
Meanwhile, Carl shifted uncomfortably.
His stomach had been protesting for several minutes, but he
had tried to ignore it out of stubbornness.
He failed.
“I’ll be right back,” he muttered to no one in particular,
already weaving through the crowd.
The staircase was narrow, spiraling up along the interior
wall.
By the time he reached the second floor landing, the music
was muffled and distant.
He found the bathroom quickly- relief washing over him in a
very different way than anything else that afternoon.
Afterward, he lingered at the small window above the sink,
hands braced against the sill.
The view overlooked the courtyard at an angle.
He could see the main pool clearly.
…and off to the side-
The hot tub.
Steam rising.
Evie.
…and someone approaching her.
Carl squinted slightly.
Pratley.
He frowned.
Down below, Pratley stopped at the edge of the hot tub.
“Hey,” he called lightly.
Evie blinked, dragged back into awareness.
She hadn’t heard him approach.
She turned her head slowly.
Pratley grinned.
“Mind if I join you?”
Pratley didn’t wait for a formal invitation.
Evie didn’t give one.
She just shifted slightly to the side, giving him room in
the hot tub.
The water surged as he stepped in, settling quickly around
them.
“Rough night?” he asked, lowering himself across from her.
Evie studied the steam rising between them.
“Yeah.”
Pratley’s voice softened- not the booming bravado from
earlier, but something closer to normal.
“You want to talk about it?”
She shook her head.
“No.”
He leaned closer anyway, not forceful- just present.
“What do you want then?”
Evie swallowed.
“I just… want something real,” she said.
Pratley tilted his head.
“That sounds real enough.”
She looked at him.
Up close, he wasn’t the loud spectacle from the arm contest.
He was familiar. Local. Someone who lived in Cuyahoga Castles. Someone whose
history didn’t require airports or Arctic maps.
Not Carl.
Not Rayna.
Not a story.
Someone she knew.
The water made everything feel closer than it was.
She shifted toward him without fully deciding to.
Pratley noticed immediately.
His arm slid around her waist, steady and confident.
She didn’t pull away.
Their kiss came easier this time.
Not tentative like with Bruce.
Warmer.
More charged.
More reactive.
For a second, the noise of the courtyard disappeared again.
Evie felt that spark- the same clarity she’d felt earlier-
but this one was sharper. Less steady.
Pratley’s grip tightened slightly as the kiss deepened.
The heat of the water.
The proximity.
The adrenaline still buzzing in him from the contest.
Evie’s breath caught.
Something shifted.
She pulled back.
“Wait,” she said.
Pratley blinked.
“Maybe…” She swallowed, grounding herself. “Maybe I don’t
want to do this.”
For half a second, Pratley blinked — like he hadn’t
processed the words yet.
“What?” he said, still smiling faintly.
“I don’t want to,” she repeated, softer but firmer.
The smile didn’t fully leave his face.
“Come on,” he said lightly. “You were just-”
His hand tightened at her waist.
Not violently.
Just assuming.
She tried to shift back.
“Prat,” she said. “Stop.”
He leaned in again, kissing her jaw, her neck- quick,
insistent- like momentum alone would carry it forward.
It wasn’t anger.
It was ego.
He had just lost to Cozens.
He had just been embarrassed…and here was something he
thought he could win.
Evie pushed at his chest.
“I said stop.”
The word landed differently this time.
Pratley hesitated- not because he suddenly understood, but
because the tone cut through his haze.
“You don’t mean that,” he muttered.
She shoved harder.
“I do.”
It didn’t register with Pratley. He grabbed her again and
held on to her strongly. Evie tried to wriggle free but he tightened his grip.
Evie realizes he is not stopping.
She tries again.
He ignores it.
Now, her internal world shifts from confusion to clarity:
This is happening.
—
Upstairs, Carl leaned forward against the windowsill, the
porcelain beneath him creaking faintly.
He hadn’t meant to look…but he couldn’t not look.
From this angle, the steam blurred the edges of the hot tub,
but he could see enough.
He saw Pratley step in.
He saw Evie move closer.
He saw the kiss.
Carl’s jaw tightened.
He couldn’t hear anything- the glass swallowed all sound-
but the body language read clearly to him.
When they broke apart the first time, he felt a flicker of
relief.
Then they leaned in again.
His stomach dropped- for reasons entirely unrelated to why
he was upstairs.
“Seriously?” he muttered under his breath.
His best friend…and Evie.
He couldn’t make out the details, but the closeness in the
water looked intimate from this distance. Escalating.
Carl’s anger spiked fast and irrational.
He imagined Pratley leaning in, pushing further.
He imagined Evie going along with it.
He imagined being made a fool.
He started to rise instinctively- then froze.
He was still mid-business.
He cursed under his breath, furious at the timing.
Down below, the motion shifted.
Evie stood up abruptly in the hot tub.
Carl squinted.
Pratley moved toward her again- or at least that’s how it
looked from this height.
Then Bruce entered the frame.
Kyle close behind him.
Bruce grabbed Pratley’s shoulder sharply.
Pratley spun around.
Kyle stepped between them.
Even through the window, Carl could see the escalation- arms
thrown wide, pointing fingers, faces too close.
Evie climbed out of the hot tub, dripping, and ran.
Carl’s heart slammed.
He couldn’t hear the shouting, but the shapes were
unmistakable.
Pratley shoved Bruce.
Bruce shoved back.
Kyle stepped forward.
Cozens appeared from nowhere- calm but decisive- inserting
himself between them.
He said something short.
Sharp.
Bruce and Kyle didn’t look satisfied, but Cozens gestured
toward the exit.
Security-minded.
Final.
After a moment of resistance, Bruce backed off.
Kyle followed.
Cozens walked them toward the far gate.
Pratley stood by the hot tub, breathing hard, face flushed-
from what, Carl couldn’t tell.
Carl gripped the window frame, chest tight.
He didn’t know what he had just witnessed.
…but he knew it wasn’t simple.
…and he knew he was already too late.
Carl didn’t wash his hands.
He barely remembered flushing.
He stormed down the narrow staircase two at a time, heart
pounding in his ears, the music growing louder with every step.
By the time he reached the courtyard, he was already
breathing hard.
Pratley stood near the hot tub, still flushed, hair damp at
the edges from steam and sweat.
Carl didn’t hesitate.
He crossed the distance fast and shoved a finger into
Pratley’s chest.
“What are you doing?” he snapped.
Pratley blinked, startled.
“Carl-”
“What are you doing with my girl?” Carl demanded, jabbing
him again.
Heads turned.
Pratley frowned. “What are you talking about?”
Carl jabbed him a third time, harder.
“I saw you. In the hot tub. What do you think you’re doing?”
Pratley’s posture stiffened.
“She came over to me,” he shot back defensively. “I didn’t
drag her in there.”
“That’s not the point!” Carl snapped.
“Then what is?” Pratley fired back.
Carl’s voice rose.
“She’s with me!”
The words hung in the air.
Evie, halfway across the courtyard, stopped.
She hadn’t meant to return.
She had only come back to grab her shoes.
…but she heard it clearly.
My girl.
She turned slowly.
Carl was still squared up to Pratley, face red, finger
pressing against his chest.
“What are you doing with my girl?” he repeated.
Evie walked toward them.
“Is that what you really think happened?” she asked quietly.
Carl froze.
Pratley stepped back slightly, sensing the shift.
Carl looked at Evie.
“I saw you two-”
“You saw us,” she interrupted. “And what did you decide?”
Carl faltered.
“I- he was-”
“He was what?” Evie pressed.
Carl’s anger struggled to reorganize itself.
“You were in there with him,” he said. “After everything-”
“After everything what?” she asked.
“You’re with me!” Carl said.
The words came out again, harsher this time.
Evie stared at him.
Something in her face went very still.
“No,” she said calmly. “I was with you.”
Carl blinked.
“…and the only thing you’re mad about right now,” she
continued, “is that you think he took something that belonged to you.”
“That’s not-” Carl began.
“It is,” she said.
Her voice wasn’t loud.
That made it worse.
“You’re not asking if I’m okay,” she said. “You’re not
asking what happened. You’re asking what he was doing with your girl.”
Carl opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
Evie shook her head slowly.
“You’re no better than him,” she said.
Pratley stiffened at that, but she didn’t look at him.
“You both see me as something to win,” she added. “Or keep.
Or lose.”
“That’s not fair,” Carl said weakly.
“Isn’t it?” she replied.
Carl reached toward her instinctively.
“It’s not what it looks like,” he pleaded.
Evie stepped back before he could touch her.
“I don’t care what it looks like,” she said.
…and then she turned.
She didn’t wait for another explanation.
Didn’t wait for him to find better words.
Didn’t wait for Pratley to defend himself.
She walked straight through the courtyard, past the broken
glass, past the hot tub, past the people pretending not to stare.
The gate opened.
Closed.
Carl stood rooted in place.
Pratley exhaled sharply, running a hand through his damp
hair.
“This is insane,” he muttered.
…and the party resumed around them, pretending nothing had
cracked.
Bow Wow Castle Complex, April 11, 2021
00:52 local time,
City of Cuyahoga Castles, Sovereignty of Ohio, UCSS
The house was quiet when Evie stepped inside.
Too quiet.
The television flickered low in the living room, muted,
cycling through late-night infomercials no one was watching.
Stacy was asleep on the couch, one arm folded across her
stomach, glasses slipping down her nose. A blanket half-covered her legs.
Evie paused just inside the doorway.
Normally, she would ease the door shut. Slip off her shoes.
Move like a shadow up the stairs.
Tonight, she didn’t.
She closed the door a little harder than necessary.
The click echoed.
Stacy stirred.
“Evie?” Her voice was thick with sleep. She pushed herself
upright, blinking toward the entryway. “What time is it?”
Evie didn’t answer that.
She stepped into the living room light.
“I broke the rules,” she said evenly. “I should be
grounded.”
Stacy blinked again, fully awake now.
“What?”
“I was out past curfew,” Evie continued, voice flat. “You
said eleven.”
Stacy squinted at the clock.
“It’s almost one.”
“I know.”
There was no sarcasm. No teenage defiance.
Just fact.
Stacy swung her legs off the couch slowly.
“Okay,” she said cautiously. “We can talk about that. But
what happened?”
“Nothing,” Evie replied.
Stacy studied her daughter’s face.
Parents learn the difference between embarrassment and
something else.
This was something else.
“You don’t look like nothing,” Stacy said gently.
Evie shrugged.
“I broke the rules,” she repeated. “I should be grounded.
Maybe forever.”
The words were clinical.
Self-sentencing.
Stacy stood now.
“Hey,” she said softly. “Look at me.”
Evie did.
Stacy saw it then.
Not tears.
Not hysteria.
Stillness.
That scared her more.
“Did someone hurt you?” Stacy asked.
Evie’s jaw tightened.
“No.”
It came too fast.
Stacy took a slow breath.
“Okay,” she said carefully. “Then we’re not doing
disciplinarian mode tonight.”
Evie frowned faintly, as if disappointed.
“You’re not in trouble,” Stacy continued. “Not right now.”
“I should be,” Evie said.
“Why?”
Evie didn’t answer.
The silence stretched.
Stacy stepped closer but didn’t touch her.
“You don’t owe me details,” she said, “but if something
happened, you don’t have to carry it alone.”
Evie stared at the carpet.
Stacy softened her voice further.
“I’m not mad,” she said. “I’m not disappointed. I just want
to know you’re safe.”
Evie nodded once.
Safe.
The word felt foreign.
“I’m fine,” she said.
It sounded like a fact she was trying to convince herself
of.
Stacy studied her a moment longer.
Then she nodded too.
“Okay,” she said. “I love you.”
Evie’s expression didn’t change.
“I know.”
“…and when you feel ready to talk,” Stacy added, “I will
listen. No matter what it is.”
Evie hesitated.
Then she walked past her mother toward the stairs.
Halfway up, she paused.
“I’m still grounded,” she said quietly.
Stacy almost smiled.
“We’ll revisit that in the morning.”
Evie nodded and continued upstairs.
Stacy remained standing in the living room long after she’d
disappeared, the television light flickering against the walls.
Something had happened.
She didn’t know what.
…but she knew enough to wait.
Rocky River Beach, July 12, 2022
12:15 local time,
City of Cuyahoga Castles, Sovereignty of Ohio, UCSS
The sand was hot enough to sting if you stood still too
long.
Evie didn’t stand.
She sat on a faded blue towel, legs stretched out, one knee
bent slightly so she could prop her textbook against it. A thick criminology
volume rested in her lap, pages already dog-eared in places most students
wouldn’t reach until mid-semester.
Stacy had dragged her there.
“Fresh air won’t kill you,” her mother had said that
morning. “Vitamin D is not the enemy.”
Evie hadn’t argued.
She just brought her book.
The lake moved in slow, patient waves. Families shouted.
Teenagers dove recklessly off the rocks. Someone’s portable speaker was playing
something bass-heavy a little too loud.
Evie turned a page.
Highlighters rested neatly beside her towel. Yellow for
statutory language. Pink for case precedent. Blue for commentary.
She underlined a sentence about prosecutorial discretion.
She didn’t look up.
She had been getting straight A’s.
Not because she needed to.
Because she wanted to.
Across the sand, Stacy sat under a striped umbrella, talking
to another mother about summer schedules and college applications.
“She’s turned into a machine,” Stacy was saying, a
half-smile on her face. “Straight A’s this year. Honors track. I barely have to
tell her to study.”
“That’s amazing,” the other woman replied.
Stacy nodded.
“It is,” she said.
A beat.
“She’s just… very focused.”
The other woman didn’t catch the pause.
…but Stacy did.
Her eyes drifted briefly toward Evie- sun on her shoulders,
hair tied back, posture perfect, unmoving.
Focused.
Not unhappy.
Just contained.
Back on the towel, Evie adjusted slightly so the sun hit her
other shoulder. She didn’t bother with sunscreen yet. She’d timed this. Twenty
minutes per side.
The radio beside her crackled softly through static.
“…and in other news, we’ve got a big trade in baseball this
afternoon…”
Evie didn’t react at first.
“…Bruce McCrain has been dealt from the Borealis Bay Bacon
to the Atlanta Dawgs in a mid-season swap that analysts say could reshape
Atlanta’s outfield depth…”
Her finger paused over the page.
Just for a second.
“…McCrain’s third season in Borealis Bay showed promise
despite the Bacon’s struggles…”
Her heart jumped- an old reflex.
Then settled.
Atlanta.
Still far.
Still not Cleveland.
Still not here.
She stared at the lake for exactly three seconds.
Then she turned the page.
“…critics are questioning whether Borealis Bay gave up too
early on the young outfielder…”
Evie picked up her highlighter again.
She underlined another sentence.
Delayed reporting often results in diminished evidentiary
value.
The waves kept moving.
The radio shifted to another segment.
Stacy laughed at something the other woman said.
Evie didn’t look up.
She kept reading.
Bow Wow Castle Complex, November 20, 2022
16:24 local time,
City of Cuyahoga Castles, Sovereignty of Ohio, UCSS
The television volume was low enough to be background noise.
On-screen, snow flurried across Borealis Bay’s stadium
lights. The Cleveland Steamers and Chicago Caribou were locked in a 0–0
stalemate that felt less like strategy and more like mutual exhaustion.
A third-and-eight screen pass went nowhere.
Punt.
Again.
“…and that’ll bring up fourth down,” Richard Stokely said
with professional optimism.
There was a long pause.
Beside him in the booth, Marshall Finch had his headset
tilted slightly off one ear.
“I’m just saying,” Finch muttered lazily, “if both teams
wanna take a nap, I’m available.”
Stokely sighed audibly. “Marshall.”
“I’m conserving energy for halftime,” Finch added. “That’s
when the real show starts.”
Evie didn’t look up.
Her laptop rested on the coffee table, screen glowing
faintly in the dim living room. The only other light came from the TV- cold
blue flickers against the walls.
On the screen:
Seeker:
You’ve been staring at that same paragraph for four minutes.
Evie blinked.
She hadn’t realized.
Evie:
I’m watching the game.
Seeker:
You haven’t looked at the television once.
On-screen, the Caribou quarterback was sacked again.
The crowd groaned through the broadcast.
Evie reached for her mug and found it empty.
“I am watching,” she murmured aloud, though no one else was
there to hear it.
The chatbox cursor blinked patiently.
Seeker had been the only place she’d said anything real.
Not all at once.
Not cleanly.
Fragments.
Something happened.
I told him to stop.
I didn’t report it.
It’s complicated.
It’s not complicated.
I waited too long.
Never the full sentence.
Never the full word.
Seeker:
You don’t have to tell me everything at once.
Evie exhaled through her nose.
Evie:
I already told you enough.
Seeker:
You told me pieces.
Another punt.
Finch yawned theatrically into his mic. “This is what trench
warfare must’ve looked like.”
Stokely tried to laugh.
Evie shifted slightly on the couch. The game clock in the
corner read 4:18- 2nd Quarter.
Still scoreless.
Still stuck.
Seeker:
Are you watching for the game?
Evie:
No.
A beat.
Seeker:
Tulip?
Evie’s jaw tightened faintly.
Evie:
Yes.
The only reason the TV was on at all.
Tulip’s halftime performance had been advertised for weeks-
exclusive, atmospheric, “a moment in Borealis Bay.” Evie had marked it on her
calendar without thinking.
Snow.
Lights.
Music.
Something controlled.
Something beautiful.
Not chaos.
On-screen, a Steamers running back was stuffed at the line.
Finch’s voice drifted again. “I respect defense. I just
don’t wanna narrate it.”
Stokely pressed on, valiantly professional.
Seeker’s cursor blinked.
Seeker:
You’re not required to stay silent forever.
Evie didn’t respond immediately.
The crowd in Borealis Bay roared for a minor gain like it
was salvation.
Evie leaned back into the couch.
Evie:
I’m not staying silent. I’m waiting.
Seeker:
For what?
She glanced up at the television this time.
The stadium lights cut through the snow.
The halftime clock ticked closer.
Evie:
For something that makes it worth saying.
The game continued to go nowhere.
The on-screen graphic flashed:
2:00 – 2nd Quarter
Still 0–0.
“Two-minute warning,” Stokely announced, sounding grateful
for something to say.
Beside him, Marshall Finch was audibly snoring.
It wasn’t subtle.
It wasn’t muted.
It was right into the live microphone.
Stokely tried to continue.
“…and, ah… while my partner appears to be conserving
energy…”
A small split-screen cut to Taylor Rooke on the sideline,
bundled in a heavy coat against the Borealis Bay cold.
“I’ve got you, Richard,” she said smoothly, slipping into
color commentary without missing a beat. “Marshall’s done this before.”
Finch snorted loudly in the background.
Evie didn’t look up.
Seeker:
You’re dissociating.
Evie:
I’m multitasking.
On-screen, the Steamers faced 3rd & 18.
The stadium looked tired. Snow swirled. Players’ breath
fogged under the lights.
“This is desperation territory,” Rooke said. “You don’t want
to give Chicago the ball back with time.”
Cozens took the snap.
Pressure came fast.
He rolled right.
Nothing open.
He tucked the ball.
Evie’s eyes flicked up almost involuntarily.
Cozens cut inside one defender.
Then another.
He spun.
A missed tackle.
The sideline opened.
“Cozens is running,” Stokely’s voice rose for the first time
all afternoon. “He’s got space-”
Twenty yards.
Thirty.
Forty.
The Caribou secondary overcommitted.
He cut back across the field.
The stadium noise shifted from groan to disbelief.
“Fifty- forty- he’s still going-”
Cozens dove across the goal line.
Touchdown.
The stadium erupted.
Finch jolted awake.
“What the-? Did someone score?”
Stokely laughed in shock. “You missed it, Marshall!”
Finch adjusted his headset, blinking at the replay.
Cozens popped up, chest heaving, adrenaline surging.
He ran toward the sideline.
A Steamer cheerleader stood near the end zone barrier,
pom-poms raised.
Cozens spread his arms wide.
The cheerleader hesitated.
Just a flicker.
But visible.
Behind her, a Caribou cheerleader stumbled when Cozens
brushed past her too hard, knocking her sideways into a teammate.
Cozens leaned in.
The Steamer cheerleader leaned too-
-but not as fast.
Not as certain.
They kissed.
Quick.
…but unmistakable.
The camera lingered half a second too long.
Finch’s voice came back sharp.
“Oh, hell no.”
Stokely inhaled sharply.
“That is-”
“That’s not a celebration,” Finch snapped. “That’s f***ing entitlement.”
The production truck scrambled to cut to replay.
Too late.
The moment had aired.
Referees converged near midfield.
Flags flew.
Cozens looked confused at first.
Then irritated.
Referee Cornell Bastion stepped forward, microphone
crackling.
“Unsportsmanlike conduct. Cleveland, number seven.
Fifteen-yard penalty. Player is ejected.”
The stadium noise fractured into boos and scattered cheers.
Finch didn’t hold back.
“You don’t get to treat people like props,” he growled.
“Score a touchdown, celebrate with your team. Don’t f***ing grab somebody who
didn’t sign up for that.”
Stokely nodded audibly. “That hesitation… that wasn’t
celebration.”
On the couch, Evie felt her hands go cold.
The replay ran again.
Slow motion.
Arms outstretched.
The cheerleader’s pause.
The lean.
The imbalance of eagerness.
The way Cozens didn’t register it.
Her breathing changed before she realized it had.
The room felt smaller.
Steam.
Hands gripping.
He is not stopping.
The echo wasn’t visual.
It was physical.
Seeker:
Your heart rate just increased.
Evie reached for the remote.
The game cut mid-commentary.
The living room fell silent.
Only the laptop screen remained.
Seeker:
Evie.
She stood up slowly.
“I’m going to bed,” she said aloud, though no one had asked.
Halftime was minutes away.
Tulip would perform.
The snow would glow under stadium lights.
She could watch it later.
If she stayed awake.
Evie closed the laptop without replying.
The television screen reflected her for a moment before
fading to black.
Upstairs, the house was quiet.
Down in Borealis Bay, the debate was just beginning.
Bow Wow Castle Complex, King’s Harem Tavern, November 21, 2022
12:41 local time,
City of Cuyahoga Castles, Sovereignty of Ohio, UCSS
The lunch crowd was thin but loud.
Televisions lined the walls above the polished wood bar,
each one tuned to a different sports network but all carrying the same breaking
story.
Rayna balanced three plates on her arm, the fabric of her
barely-there uniform stretching tightly across her ribs. The place called
itself a “sports experience.” Everyone else called it what it was.
The tips were decent.
The hours were flexible.
That mattered more than pride.
Her phone buzzed in her apron pocket- a daycare update. She
resisted checking it mid-shift.
On-screen, Darren Rydell stood at a podium in Sǫ̀mbak’è,
winter sun sharp behind him.
“We will not tolerate this kind of behaviour,” Rydell
declared. “Consent is not a prop for celebration.”
The chyron read:
SOMBACKE INTRODUCES NEW CONSENT PROTECTIONS
Another TV cut to Ohio Sovereign Roy Roper.
“Ohio will explore similar statutory language,” Roper said
carefully. “What we witnessed cannot become normalized.”
A third screen showed the WFL press conference.
“Drake Cozens has been suspended indefinitely pending
review,” a league spokesperson said, jaw tight.
The bar erupted in scattered commentary.
“Soft league,” someone muttered.
“He scored the only touchdown!”
“Guy can’t even celebrate anymore?”
Rayna set the plates down at table twelve.
“You need anything else?” she asked automatically.
They were watching the largest screen.
Cozens appeared in a split-screen social media clip- hoodie,
defiant posture.
“It was completely consensual,” he said. “She leaned in.
People need to relax.”
Rayna’s jaw clenched.
She forced a neutral smile and stepped away.
Behind the bar, another server nudged her.
“Crazy, right?” the girl said. “Whole country’s losing its
mind over a kiss.”
Rayna didn’t answer.
She grabbed a tray and wiped it down slowly.
On her break earlier, she had tried again.
New email address.
New account.
Different username.
Evie’s profile picture appeared.
Private.
Blocked.
Phone number- straight to voicemail.
Another email bounced back.
Rayna had typed and deleted three different subject lines
before finally giving up.
I’m sorry.
Please talk to me.
You don’t have to forgive me but-
Nothing sent.
Nothing delivered.
The baby was at daycare until four.
The baby was the only thing that made mornings tolerable.
The only thing that made her stop thinking about what she
had lost.
She watched Cozens again on the screen.
Defiant.
Certain.
Protected by a platform and a microphone.
Protected by fans arguing for him between bites of wings.
Rayna exhaled slowly.
She thought about Evie.
About the night at the party.
About how Evie had walked away without saying a word.
About how silence had grown like mold between them.
A man at the bar laughed loudly.
“Indefinitely,” he scoffed. “He’ll be back in two weeks.”
Rayna picked up another tray.
The televisions kept replaying the kiss.
Slow motion.
Zoomed.
Debated.
Legislated.
Her phone buzzed again.
Daycare reminder: Diaper bag running low.
Rayna swallowed.
She could handle diapers.
She could handle double shifts.
She could handle customers staring.
She could not handle not knowing if Evie was okay.
The Tavern door opened.
A gust of cold November air slipped inside.
Rayna turned automatically, professional smile forming out
of habit.
…and someone stepped through the doorway.
She didn’t recognize the silhouette at first.
…but something about the posture made her pause.
The door closed behind them.
The televisions kept talking.
…and Rayna stood very still.
“Lingerie Day” meant the management turned the thermostat up
and the hemlines down.
Rayna adjusted the thin strap at her shoulder as she stepped
out from behind the bar. The uniform was barely there- lace-trimmed,
tight-fitting, designed more for spectacle than service. She had long ago
stopped pretending it was anything else.
The tips were better on days like this.
That mattered.
The Tavern door opened again.
This time the reaction was immediate.
A low ripple moved through the room- recognition spreading
table to table.
Bruce McCrain stepped inside, flanked by two handlers in
neutral jackets who began gently waving away autograph seekers before they
could crowd him.
“Sorry, folks, not today,” one said politely.
Bruce paused anyway.
A little girl near the entrance, clutching a plastic
baseball, looked up at him with wide eyes.
Bruce smiled, took the ball, signed it quickly, and handed
it back.
“No skipping school,” he told her lightly.
The handlers ushered him forward.
Rayna was already moving.
She had been told he might come by.
She didn’t know when.
“VIP?” she asked, already leading the way.
Bruce nodded.
He didn’t look around much as they walked- the screens
replaying Cozens’ ejection again, pundits arguing beneath bold graphics.
The VIP booth sat slightly elevated and shielded from the
main floor.
Rayna slid into professional mode with ease.
“Welcome to Cuyahoga,” she said lightly as she handed him a
menu he wouldn’t read.
Bruce gave a small half-smile. He had a strange path to
become a Cuyahoga Crooks player- traded twice, first by Atlanta to Dallas and then
by Dallas to Cuyahoga.
“Still adjusting,” he admitted. “Atlanta felt temporary.
Dallas felt… confusing. This one feels real.”
“Real good?” she asked.
“Real loud,” he said.
Rayna laughed softly.
She set down his drink.
Bruce’s eyes flicked up at her uniform for half a second-
not lingering, not appraising. Just acknowledging the obvious absurdity of it.
“You okay?” he asked instead.
That was why she liked him.
Bruce didn’t do crude remarks.
Didn’t perform entitlement.
Didn’t make it a joke.
“I’m fine,” she said automatically.
He didn’t buy it.
They both heard Cozens’ name from the televisions again.
“…completely consensual…” the clip repeated.
Bruce’s jaw tightened faintly.
He didn’t look at the screen.
He looked at Rayna.
“How’s Evie?” he asked.
The name hit harder than the broadcast.
Rayna kept her hands busy- adjusting a coaster that didn’t
need adjusting.
“She blocked me,” she said quietly. “Everything. Phone.
Social. Email.”
Bruce blinked.
“Why?”
Rayna swallowed.
“I messed up,” she said. “A long time ago. And I kept
messing up.”
Bruce leaned back slightly.
“That doesn’t sound like the whole story.”
Rayna’s throat tightened.
“It’s enough of it,” she said.
He studied her for a moment.
The televisions cut again to analysts debating league
policy.
Rayna blinked fast, refusing to cry on shift.
Bruce let the silence sit.
When he finished eating, he stood.
Rayna moved to collect the plates.
Instead, Bruce stepped forward and wrapped his arms around
her.
It wasn’t possessive.
Wasn’t invasive.
Wasn’t public theater.
Just steady.
Rayna exhaled into his shoulder, tension leaking out in a
way she hadn’t allowed herself to feel.
When they separated, she looked smaller.
“I need your help,” she said.
Bruce didn’t hesitate.
“With what?”
“You were there,” she said carefully. “You saw what he did.”
Bruce’s expression shifted- firm now.
“I did.”
Rayna nodded once.
“Help me win her back,” she said. “Please.”
There was no drama in the request.
Just urgency.
Bruce didn’t even pause.
“Tell me what you need.”
Behind them, the televisions kept replaying the ejection.
…and outside, the November wind rattled faintly against the
Tavern’s glass.
Bow Wow Castle Complex, Carl’s Apartment, November 22, 2022
19:41 local time,
City of Cuyahoga Castles, Sovereignty of Ohio, UCSS
The apartment was quieter than Carl remembered it ever
being.
Not peaceful quiet.
Empty quiet.
The kind where every small sound- the hum of the fridge, the
heater clicking on, his own breathing- felt too loud.
His phone screen lit his face in the dim room.
Subscriptions. Notifications. Messages that weren’t really
messages.
He scrolled through VelvetView, then over to StarHarbor
Live, then NeonHalo Connect- platforms he hadn’t even known existed
six months ago.
Now they knew him.
Or at least his credit card did.
A smiling creator waved from the screen.
“Hey Carl, missed you yesterday.”
Pre-recorded.
Still effective.
He typed something, erased it, typed again.
Nothing felt right.
Because none of this was actually connection.
It was approximation.
Evie had stopped replying first.
Then stopped reading.
Then blocked him outright.
Pratley… well.
That bridge hadn’t burned so much as collapsed.
Carl didn’t even remember the last real conversation they’d
had that wasn’t defensive or tense.
He tapped another profile.
Another subscription.
Another attempt to feel seen.
It worked for about five minutes at a time.
Sometimes less.
The girl on-screen laughed at something in chat.
Not his message.
Someone else’s.
He leaned back on the couch.
“Pathetic,” he muttered- not angrily, just matter-of-fact.
He wasn’t proud of it.
…but silence was worse.
He missed:
- Inside
jokes.
- Someone
texting first.
- Someone
asking how his day went.
- Someone
who actually knew him.
Even arguments.
Arguments meant someone cared enough to engage.
The chat window pinged.
“Custom content available!”
He locked the phone.
Set it face-down on the coffee table.
Didn’t cancel anything.
Didn’t open anything else either.
Just sat there.
Halfway between wanting connection and being exhausted by
substitutes.
The TV in the corner replayed sports highlights on mute.
Cozens’ ejection ran again.
Carl didn’t look at it.
Didn’t want to think about parties.
Hot tubs.
Misunderstandings.
Whatever had actually happened.
Because he still didn’t fully know.
…and maybe that uncertainty was part of why Evie was gone.
Or maybe he’d just screwed up.
Either way:
The apartment stayed quiet.
Carl leaned back, staring at the ceiling, phone dark beside
him.
Bow Wow Castle Complex, Evie’s Apartment, December 12, 2022
20:22 local time,
City of Cuyahoga Castles, Sovereignty of Ohio, UCSS
The knock came just after dinner.
Stacy opened the door expecting a package.
Instead, she saw Bruce McCrain standing on the porch, coat
zipped high against the cold, Rayna beside him with her hands tucked tightly
into her sleeves.
For a split second, Stacy didn’t recognize Bruce without a
television frame around him.
Then she did.
“Oh,” she said. “Hi.”
Rayna tried a smile. It didn’t stick.
“Is Evie home?” Bruce asked gently.
Stacy hesitated only a moment before stepping aside. “She
is.”
They stepped into the warm hallway.
“I’ll call her,” Stacy said.
She climbed halfway up the stairs. “Evie? You have
visitors.”
Silence.
A door upstairs remained closed.
“I’m not coming down,” Evie called flatly.
Stacy glanced back at Bruce and Rayna.
Bruce stepped forward slightly.
“Evie?” he called. “It’s Bruce.”
The silence shifted.
A beat later, a door opened upstairs.
Footsteps.
Evie appeared at the top of the staircase.
She looked thinner. Sharper. Focused in a way that wasn’t
entirely healthy.
When she saw Bruce, something flickered across her face-
surprise first, then something softer.
“Bruce?”
He gave a small nod.
“I got traded,” he said. “Then traded again. I play for the
Crooks now.”
Her eyebrows lifted faintly.
“The Crooks?”
“Yeah.”
For half a second, something like happiness appeared.
Then her eyes shifted to Rayna.
The temperature in the room dropped.
Evie descended the stairs slowly.
“You brought him,” she said to Rayna, not accusing- just
stating.
Rayna didn’t deny it.
“I thought-”
“You thought this would help,” Evie finished.
Stacy sensed the gravity and quietly retreated toward the
kitchen.
“Go upstairs if you want,” she said gently. “Talk in
private.”
Evie didn’t argue.
They moved to her bedroom.
It was immaculate.
Desk organized.
Textbooks stacked.
Notes pinned precisely to a corkboard.
Control everywhere.
Evie shut the door.
She didn’t sit.
Instead, she crossed to her desk and opened her laptop.
“I already tried,” she said.
Bruce exchanged a glance with Rayna.
Evie turned the screen toward him.
An email sat open.
From: CCPD Intake Division
Subject: Case Review Status
The language was clinical.
Due to insufficient evidentiary support…
Environmental contamination of the scene…
Significant lapse in reporting timeline…
Difficulty establishing prosecutable elements…
Bruce’s jaw tightened as he read.
“They’re not saying it didn’t happen,” Evie said evenly.
“They’re saying they can’t prove it happened.”
Rayna’s fingers twisted in her sleeve.
Evie closed the laptop halfway.
“It was a failed expedition,” she said. “I waited too long.
The pool was public. There’s no footage. Everyone was drunk. It’s done.”
Bruce looked at her.
“It’s not done.”
She gave a tired half-smile.
“The WFL lifted Cozens’ suspension,” she said. “Public
outrage lasts about five minutes. Then it’s inconvenient.”
“That’s different,” Bruce said firmly.
“Is it?” Evie asked.
Rayna swallowed hard but stayed silent.
Bruce stepped closer.
“I saw it,” he said.
Evie’s eyes lifted to meet his.
“I saw you tell him to stop,” Bruce continued. “I saw him
grab you again. I saw the way you moved when you got out of that hot tub. That
wasn’t mutual.”
The room went very quiet.
Rayna’s eyes shimmered but she didn’t speak.
Bruce didn’t look away.
“I’ll give a statement,” he said. “Under oath. I’ll go to
the Crooks’ management. I’ll tell them exactly what I saw. I don’t care what
that costs me.”
Evie’s expression shifted- not emotional, not yet- but
something cracked beneath the composure.
“He plays for your team,” she said.
Bruce nodded once.
“I know.”
“I don’t want you burning your career down for me.”
“You’re not burning it,” Bruce replied calmly. “He did.”
Rayna finally spoke, voice thin.
“Please,” she said softly.
Evie couldn’t look at her.
Bruce stepped back slightly, giving her space.
“I won’t do anything without you,” he said, “but if you want
to keep pushing… I’m in.”
Evie stared at the floor for a long time.
The silence stretched.
The laptop screen dimmed automatically.
Finally, she nodded.
Small.
Reluctant.
“Okay,” she said.
Rayna exhaled shakily.
Bruce didn’t smile.
He just nodded back.
“Okay.”
Outside the bedroom door, the house was still.
…and for the first time since November 20, the silence felt
less permanent.
Cuyahoga Castles Police Department, Bow Wow Castles Detachment, December 12,
2022
22:17 local time,
City of Cuyahoga Castles, Sovereignty of Ohio, UCSS
The station smelled faintly of burnt coffee and overworked
heating.
Bruce sat across from Investigator Lena Armitage in a small
interview room with beige walls and a camera mounted high in the corner. His
Crooks jacket was folded neatly on the back of his chair.
Armitage clicked her pen once.
“Just start from what you saw,” she said evenly. “No
speculation. No interpretation. Just what you observed.”
Bruce nodded.
“I was near the courtyard when I heard raised voices,” he
began. “I saw Evie in the hot tub with Pratley Casmire. I saw her push him
away.”
Armitage didn’t interrupt.
“I saw her mouth ‘stop,’” Bruce continued. “Twice. I was
close enough to see that clearly.”
He swallowed once.
“Then I saw him grab her again. She tried to move back. He
didn’t let her.”
Armitage’s pen moved steadily.
“What happened next?” she asked.
“He held her in place. She stopped resisting after that.”
“Why do you think she stopped?”
Bruce shook his head slightly. “I don’t want to guess. I
just know it wasn’t mutual.”
Armitage nodded.
“…and when she exited the hot tub?”
“She moved fast. Not angry. Not dramatic. Just… done.”
The room went quiet except for the faint hum of the
building’s heating system.
“This helps,” Armitage said plainly. “An eyewitness
statement that contradicts a consent narrative matters.”
Bruce leaned forward slightly.
“So we can charge him?”
Armitage exhaled slowly- not dismissive, just honest.
“We can reopen the file,” she said, “but I want to be
transparent.”
She tapped the folder in front of her.
“The pool was public. People were in and out. There’s no
preserved physical evidence. The report came more than a year after the
incident. Memories fade. Defense will argue consent.”
Bruce’s jaw tightened.
“You’re saying it’s still weak.”
“I’m saying it’s uphill,” she replied. “Sexual assault was
already illegal when this happened. The issue isn’t whether it was a crime. The
issue is whether we can prove it beyond a reasonable doubt.”
Bruce sat back.
“What about the new law?” he asked. “The Affirmative Consent
and Coercion Act?”
Armitage shook her head slightly.
“It clarifies consent standards going forward. It doesn’t
change how we evaluate this case. It won’t apply to incidents that happened
before it’s enacted.”
Silence filled the room.
Bruce ran a hand across his jaw.
“So the law changes because of incidents like Cozens’… but
cases before that are just…”
Armitage didn’t let him finish.
“Justice systems move slowly,” she said quietly. “Too
slowly, sometimes.”
She leaned back.
“Your statement strengthens her credibility. Corroboration
matters. It gives us something we didn’t have before. But prosecution is still
a high bar.”
Bruce nodded once.
“What about the team?” he asked. “If I report this to Crooks
management?”
“That’s separate from criminal prosecution,” Armitage said.
“Internal discipline operates on different standards. Different thresholds.”
Lower bar.
Different optics.
Different consequences.
Bruce understood.
“I’ll give a formal written statement too,” he said. “Under
oath.”
Armitage gave a small nod.
“I’ll attach it to the file.”
She clicked off the recorder.
“For what it’s worth,” she added, softer now, “I believe
you.”
Bruce didn’t look relieved.
He looked steady.
“That’s not enough,” he said.
Armitage’s expression didn’t shift.
“No,” she agreed. “It rarely is.”
Outside, snow drifted lightly across Bow Wow Castle.
Inside, the system moved- deliberate, constrained,
imperfect.
Cuyahoga Crooks Baseball Castle, December 17, 2022
12:51 local time,
City of Cuyahoga Castles, Sovereignty of Ohio, UCSS
The executive floor smelled faintly of polished wood and
expensive air freshener.
Glass walls.
Framed jerseys.
A trophy case under soft lighting.
Bruce didn’t look at any of it.
Rayna sat rigidly in one of the leather guest chairs.
Evie sat beside her, hands folded neatly in her lap, posture
almost academic.
Across from them sat General Manager Trent Halloran and
Director of Player Operations Mitchell Vance.
Halloran smiled thinly.
“Bruce,” he said. “If this is about another trade request,
you’re setting a record.”
A light chuckle.
Bruce didn’t respond.
The chuckle died quickly.
“This isn’t about a trade,” Bruce said evenly.
Halloran leaned back slightly.
“Alright,” he said. “What’s this about?”
Bruce didn’t ease into it.
“It’s about Pratley Casmire.”
The room shifted.
Vance’s pen paused mid-note.
Halloran’s expression flattened, but only slightly.
“Go on,” he said.
Bruce glanced once at Evie.
Then back to the executives.
“I witnessed him assault her,” he said plainly.
No embellishment.
No theatrics.
Just fact.
Silence.
Halloran blinked once.
“I’m sorry?” he said carefully.
Bruce didn’t repeat himself.
He didn’t need to.
Halloran turned to Evie.
“And you are?”
“Evie Sicario,” she said. Her voice didn’t shake. “I filed a
report with CCPD. Investigator Armitage has reopened the file.”
Vance leaned forward.
“Reopened,” he repeated.
“Yes.”
Halloran clasped his hands together.
“When did this alleged incident occur?” he asked.
“April 10,” Bruce said.
“Of this year?”
“Last year.”
Another pause.
Halloran’s face remained professional.
“Why are we hearing about this now?” he asked.
Evie inhaled slowly.
Because Bruce was here.
Because Rayna was here.
Because the air in the room felt tight.
She answered anyway.
“I reported it weeks ago,” she said. “The police cited
insufficient evidence. Bruce gave a statement Monday night.”
Vance’s jaw tightened faintly.
“…and you’re asking us to…?” Halloran prompted.
Bruce didn’t let Evie carry that part.
“I’m telling you,” he said. “I saw her tell him to stop. I
saw him grab her again. That’s not interpretation.”
The executives exchanged a look that was almost
imperceptible.
Rayna’s hands twisted together in her lap.
Halloran exhaled slowly.
“This is serious,” he said.
…but his tone was measured.
Contained.
Corporate.
“We’re not making any decisions today.”
Bruce didn’t move.
“Why not?”
“Because we need to conduct our own review,” Halloran
replied smoothly. “We need to speak to Mr. Casmire. We need to consult legal.
We need to assess exposure.”
Exposure.
Evie heard the word.
Vance added, “If there’s an active police matter, that
complicates things.”
Bruce’s voice sharpened slightly.
“So he just keeps playing?”
Halloran didn’t blink.
“Until we have findings, he remains a member of this
organization.”
The statement landed like a door closing.
Evie stared at the edge of the conference table.
This was the moment she had imagined differently.
Not dramatic.
Not explosive.
Just procedural.
Contained.
“We appreciate you bringing this to us,” Halloran continued.
“Truly.”
He stood.
The meeting was over.
Bruce didn’t stand immediately.
Rayna looked like she might say something- anything- but
didn’t trust her voice.
Evie rose first.
Controlled.
Composed.
“Thank you for your time,” she said.
The executives nodded.
As they stepped back into the hallway, the glass doors shut
softly behind them.
Inside the conference room, Halloran and Vance remained
seated.
Neither spoke for several seconds.
Outside, Bruce’s jaw tightened.
Rayna’s eyes filled.
Evie walked ahead of both of them.
Still upright.
Still steady.
…but something had shifted again.
The glass conference room felt smaller now.
Trent Halloran stood near the window overlooking the
practice field, phone pressed to his ear.
Mitchell Vance sat at the table, laptop open, Pratley
Casmire’s player file pulled up.
On the other end of the line, Investigator Lena Armitage
spoke evenly.
“I can’t discuss details beyond what’s already public,” she
said, “but yes. The allegation is serious.”
Halloran’s eyes stayed on the field below.
“And charges?” he asked.
A pause.
“Unlikely,” Armitage replied. “Delayed reporting. No
preserved physical evidence. It’s an uphill prosecution.”
Halloran nodded once, though she couldn’t see him.
“So criminal exposure for the organization?”
“Indirect at most,” Armitage said. “Unless there’s evidence
of prior knowledge or failure to act.”
“We don’t have that,” Halloran said calmly.
Another pause.
“Reputationally,” Armitage added, “this won’t disappear.”
Halloran thanked her and ended the call.
He stood there a moment longer before turning back to the
table.
“Well?” Vance asked without looking up.
“Serious,” Halloran said. “Charges unlikely.”
Vance nodded.
“That’s what I figured.”
He clicked through scouting reports.
Bat speed: average.
Defensive range: limited.
Projected WAR: replacement level.
Ceiling: bench depth.
Vance leaned back.
“He’s not making the roster next year anyway,” he said.
Halloran folded his arms.
“No.”
Silence hung between them.
This wasn’t about guilt.
It wasn’t about innocence.
It was about calculus.
Risk.
Value.
Noise.
Vance closed the laptop.
“We can say it’s baseball,” he said.
Halloran nodded.
“Baseball-related decision,” he agreed.
Clean.
Neutral.
Non-admissive.
“Call him in,” Halloran said.
Later
Pratley Casmire sat across from them, jaw tight but posture
controlled.
Halloran delivered it smoothly.
“After evaluating roster construction and long-term
development, we’ve decided to release you.”
Pratley blinked.
“For what?” he asked.
“Baseball-related reasons,” Vance said.
Pratley’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“This about that girl?”
Halloran didn’t react.
“This is a baseball decision.”
Pratley let out a short breath through his nose.
“So that’s it.”
“That’s it,” Halloran confirmed.
No apology.
No accusation.
No explanation.
Just paperwork slid across the table.
Pratley stood.
He looked like he wanted to say more.
He didn’t.
The door shut softly behind him.
Back in the conference room, Vance spoke first.
“That solves that.”
Halloran didn’t respond immediately.
“Not entirely,” he said at last.
…but for now?
It was contained.
Bow Wow Castle Complex, Casmire’s Convenience, January 12, 2023
20:22 local time,
City of Cuyahoga Castles, Sovereignty of Ohio, UCSS
The bell above the door chimed softly.
Evie stepped inside, pulling her scarf down from her face.
The store smelled faintly of floor cleaner and burnt coffee.
She only came because Stacy couldn’t.
Cold medicine.
Soup.
Crackers.
Tissues.
In and out.
That was the plan.
Behind the counter, Pratley Casmire looked up.
Their eyes met.
The recognition was instant.
He didn’t look surprised.
He looked tight.
His Crooks hoodie was gone. In its place: a store polo with Casmire’s
Convenience embroidered over the chest.
Evie said nothing.
She moved down the aisle toward the medicine shelf.
The bell chimed again.
Rayna stepped in, bundled against the cold, a small reusable
grocery bag looped around her wrist.
She froze when she saw both of them.
For a moment, none of the three spoke.
Pratley cleared his throat.
“You’re really going to pretend I’m not here?” he asked,
voice low but edged.
Evie didn’t turn around.
“I’m shopping,” she said evenly.
Rayna moved toward the refrigerated section, tension visible
in her shoulders.
Pratley leaned forward against the counter.
His agent had dropped him two days after the release.
“Optics,” the agent had said.
After that, no calls came.
No minor league invites.
No spring training offers.
Not even a courtesy workout.
By January, the only uniform left was the one with his
family name stitched above the pocket.
“You know,” he said, “I never meant for any of that to blow
up like it did.”
Evie picked up a bottle of cold medicine.
Scanned the label.
Ignored him.
“It was a mistake,” Pratley continued. “I thought you were
into it. That’s all.”
Rayna looked up sharply.
“A mistake?” she said.
Pratley shrugged.
“I misread it.”
“Hollow,” Rayna muttered.
Pratley’s jaw tightened.
“I said I was sorry.”
Evie finally turned, expression flat.
“You tried to make it nothing,” she said. “A
misunderstanding.”
Pratley scoffed.
“It was baseball,” he said. “That’s what they told me.”
Rayna stepped in.
“They released you,” she said. “That’s not nothing.”
“No team picked me up,” Pratley shot back. “You think that’s
coincidence?”
The bell chimed again.
A teenager in a heavy coat slipped inside, hood pulled low.
He moved quickly toward the back aisle.
Evie stepped aside to let him pass.
Moments later, raised voices broke out near the snack rack.
“Hey!” Pratley shouted from behind the counter. “You need to
pay for that!”
The teenager bolted toward the door.
In the scramble, a box of over-the-counter medicine fell
from his coat and skidded across the tile.
Evie instinctively bent and grabbed it before it slid under
the rack.
“Give it back!” the teen snapped.
“It’s not yours,” Evie replied sharply.
Pratley came around the counter, already pulling his phone
out.
“I’m calling the cops,” he said.
The teen bolted out the door empty-handed.
Silence.
Pratley looked down at the medicine in Evie’s hand.
A flicker crossed his face.
Opportunity.
“She had it,” he said loudly, phone still raised. “I saw her
with it.”
Rayna stared at him.
“What?”
“You just picked it up,” Pratley insisted. “Looked like you
were walking off.”
Evie went still.
“You’re kidding,” Rayna said flatly.
Pratley shrugged, expression hardening.
“I didn’t see who dropped it.”
“You absolutely did,” Rayna shot back.
The door opened again- this time slower- and two uniformed
officers stepped in.
“Evening,” one said. “We got a call about shoplifting?”
Pratley gestured toward Evie.
“She had the merchandise.”
Rayna stepped forward before Evie could speak.
“That’s not true,” she said firmly. “A kid ran out with it.
She grabbed it off the floor.”
The officer looked between them.
“Ma’am?” he asked Evie.
Evie held up the box.
“It fell when he ran,” she said calmly. “I picked it up.”
The officer glanced at Rayna.
“You see that?”
“I did,” Rayna replied without hesitation.
Pratley’s jaw worked.
The second officer looked toward the door.
“Any description of the suspect?” he asked Pratley.
Pratley hesitated.
The moment stretched.
“Teen,” he muttered. “Dark jacket.”
The officers nodded.
“Alright. We’ll canvas the area.”
They left as quickly as they’d come.
The bell chimed again.
Silence settled back into the store.
Pratley stared at Evie.
“That was unnecessary,” he said coldly.
Evie set the medicine on the counter.
“You tried to frame me,” she replied evenly.
Pratley didn’t deny it.
“You cost me everything,” he said.
Rayna stepped closer.
“No,” she said. “You did.”
Evie gathered her items.
She didn’t look at him again.
Outside, the air hit sharp and cold.
Rayna followed her out.
Snow crunched beneath their boots.
“I’m sorry,” Rayna said immediately. “For everything. For
tonight. For back then.”
Evie kept walking.
“You stepped in,” she said after a moment.
“I wasn’t going to let him twist it,” Rayna replied.
Evie slowed.
The streetlight above them hummed faintly.
“I don’t know if I can call you my bestie again,” Evie said
quietly.
Rayna’s throat tightened.
“I know.”
“…but,” Evie added, looking at her for the first time that
night, “we can try.”
Rayna blinked rapidly.
“That’s enough,” she said.
Evie nodded once.
They walked on together- not healed, not restored- but no
longer completely fractured.
Behind them, the store lights glowed harsh and bright
against the winter dark.
Bow Wow Castle Complex, January 13, 2023
00:02 local time,
City of Cuyahoga Castles, Sovereignty of Ohio, UCSS
The apartment is quiet except for the hum of Rayna’s laptop.
Her phone lights up.
Evie:
I got it.
Peace internship. Cuyahoga office.
I start next month.
Rayna reads it twice.
A small smile flickers across her face. It’s real. Evie
wanted this. Evie always believed if you got inside the machine, you could fix
it.
Rayna types back:
Rayna:
That’s amazing.
I’m proud of you.
She stares at the message after it sends. Proud. And
something else. Something tight in her chest she can’t name.
Her laptop screen refreshes.
The Vicendum Chronicles fills the display — bold
headlines, flashing banners, outrage threaded through every paragraph.
Esme Errons’ latest editorial sits at the top:
WHEN SYSTEMS FAIL, THEY PROTECT THEMSELVES.
Rayna clicks.
The article tears into municipal cowardice — small
departments circling the wagons, reputation management disguised as procedure,
cases quietly deprioritized when they threaten the wrong people.
Esme calls it incompetence.
Calls it fear.
Calls it bureaucrats too timid to act.
Rayna’s jaw tightens.
She opens a new message window.
Hesitates.
Then types.
Rayna → Esme Errons:
You’re still giving them an excuse.
Three dots appear almost immediately.
Esme:
How so?
Rayna stares at the screen.
Her fingers hover. For a moment, she almost closes the
window.
Then she doesn’t.
Rayna:
It’s not confusion.
It’s not fear.
It’s not incompetence.
A beat.
They slow things down on purpose.
They bury urgency in paperwork.
They wait for outrage to cool off.
She stops, exhales, then adds:
That’s not failure.
That’s preservation.
The typing indicator flickers.
Esme:
Preservation of what?
Rayna’s heartbeat steadies.
She thinks of April 2021.
Of December.
Of the quiet meeting rooms.
Of “still reviewing.”
She types:
If crime is a virus,
institutions protect themselves first.
A pause.
The cursor blinks.
Then:
The system is the true virus.
This time the typing indicator stays on longer.
Esme:
That’s a line.
Another message follows.
Are you willing to stand behind it? Publicly?
Rayna doesn’t answer right away.
She glances at Evie’s text again.
Peace internship.
Evie wants to fix it from inside.
Rayna looks back at the screen.
She types:
I’m done whispering.
A few seconds pass.
Then:
Esme:
Then let’s make sure people hear you.
Rayna leans back in her chair.
Outside, Bow Wow Castle Complex is still- dark windows,
sleeping streets, nothing moving.
On her laptop, a blank document opens.
A title waits at the top.
Rayna types three words:
THE TRUE VIRUS
The cursor blinks beneath it.
…and somewhere between silence and signal, something begins.
Downtown Cuyahoga Castles, January 13, 2023
23:12 local time,
City of Cuyahoga Castles, Sovereignty of Ohio, UCSS
Neon reflections shimmered on wet pavement.
Carl shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and kept
walking.
Another club.
Another polite rejection.
Another “private event tonight.”
Another “capacity limit.”
Another bouncer who wouldn’t quite meet his eyes.
He’d stopped counting.
Earlier, he’d sworn off the screens.
The subscriptions.
The endless scrolling.
The DMs that never got responses.
Money gone.
Time gone.
Dignity… questionable.
So he came downtown.
Real people. Real chance. Real connection.
That had been the idea.
A woman outside the last club had actually talked to him.
Smiled, even. Conversation came easily for once. For a few minutes, he thought
maybe things were shifting.
Then they reached the door.
She got waved through immediately.
Carl didn’t.
“Sorry, man. Not tonight.”
Same tone. Same script.
The woman gave Carl a quick apologetic look- already
half-turned toward the music inside. She didn’t argue. Didn’t linger.
Didn’t come back out.
Carl stood there longer than he meant to.
Something hot settled in his chest.
Not sudden.
Not explosive.
Just… finally uncontained.
All those nights replayed.
Evie walking away.
Pratley gone.
Messages ignored.
Doors closed.
Always on the outside.
He’d spent months telling himself it was bad luck.
Miscommunication.
Timing.
Circumstance.
The thoughts he’d been pushing down started surfacing again.
If no one was ever going to choose him… maybe he didn’t have
to wait to be chosen.
Usually, he buried that thought.
Tonight, he let it stay.
Maybe it wasn’t unfair.
Maybe it’s just reality.
Maybe this was just how things worked.
Movement caught his eye.
A young woman walking alone down the sidewalk. Blonde hair.
Slim frame. Tan winter coat. Headphones in. Unaware.
Carl watched her for a moment.
Then he smiled.
Not happy.
Resolved.
“This is my opportunity,” he murmured.
He stepped off the curb and started after her.
The neon glow swallowed them both as they disappeared down
the block.
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