The lights flashed like angry eyes in the night, strolling against the pavement. Children’s laughter drifted from faraway houses, innocent and hollow, like echoes from another life. Their parents were probably inside, safe, warm, never knowing what it felt like to live in the dark. And me? I was pressed flat against the wall, barely breathing. Hiding in the shadows.
It only took a minute before they found me.
The police.
One voice shouted. A flashlight beam cut through bricks. My lungs locked up, but my legs didn’t wait. I knew what to do. I ran.
Through highs and lows, up and down stairwells, across broken fences. My sneakers slapped against the ground, every step louder than thunder in my ears. My breath was heavy, ragged, almost as loud as a car speeding down the street. I kept moving, heart hammering, every pulse counting down to capture.
The sky was smothered by trees, twisted branches clawing at the night. Then suddenly an opening, moonlight spilled through, the shape oddly, like a ballroom shoe pressed into the canopy. The clearing was strange, silent. Flowers brushed against my legs, bushes swayed, though no wind moved. For the first time in forever, I felt unbothered. No voices. No orders. No rules. Alone. Free.
But freedom never lasts.
Something gleamed at the center of the clearing. Red. Small. At first I thought it was a trick of the light. But no, the object was real. A bike.
It shouldn’t have been there. Not in the middle of nowhwere. Not glowing like that. The paint caught the moonlight and divided it into colors: pink, burgundy, maroon. Almost alive, shimmering as if it wanted to be seen. My pulse quickened. Every instinct screamed to run, to leave it untouched. But curiosity dragged me forward.
I crouched beside it. The handlebars were scuffed. The chain sagged. Ordinary except for the strip of metal duct tape beneath the seat. My fingers hovered above it. Then I peeled it away.
A device.
Its red light blinked once. Twice. Steady.
A tracker.
Branches snapped behind me. Boots crushed gravel. Radios crackled.
They were close—too close.
I shoved the device into my pocket, gripping the bike like a shield. My mind raced. Why would the police chase me when the real clue was right here? Unless … unless they weren’t after the bike at all.
The clearing darkened. A beam of light swept across the flowers, missing me by inches. My chest seized. I pressed lower, the bike’s frame digging into my side. Voices murmured, distorted but sharp.
“Signal’s here. She has it.”
She.
Me.
My blood went cold.
The truth slammed into me harder than the fear ever had. They weren’t chasing me for something I’d done. They were chasing me because of what I carried. The bike wasn’t random. It was bait. And I had taken it.
The tacker pulsed in my pocket, red glow seeping through the fabric. Like a heartbeat.
I staggered up, legs shaking. I was at the walls at the edge of Lavengro.
Shadows closed in every direction.
I had one chance left. Run or uncover the truth they didn’t want me to know.
And I ran. Straight into the night.
