The evening fog clung low to the ground, curling like soft breath over the cracked streets of Greyhaven. Avery sat at the edge of the sidewalk, knees drawn to her chest, her fingers fidgeting with a paper napkin from the café behind her. The job James helped her get wasn't glamorous—running orders, washing mugs—but it kept her stomach full and bought her time.
He'd even convinced his boss to pay her in advance so she could afford a small, run-down apartment nearby. She should've felt grateful.
Instead, she felt hollow.
"Nice, Kane," she muttered under her breath, tossing the crumpled napkin at a rusted trash bin and missing. "Your teenage dad is out here helping you rent a moldy closet while you're plotting how to kill a mafia lord."
The absurdity of it made her laugh—quiet, sharp, and bitter.
James had done nothing wrong. He was kind. Honest. The kind of boy any girl would fall for. And yet here she was, pretending to be someone else, carrying the weight of a future he hadn't lived yet… one he would help destroy.
It had been days now since she'd landed in this unfamiliar-yet-familiar world. She still didn't know how she'd come back in time—or how far back she'd fallen. At least seventeen or eighteen years, maybe more. Her father was just a teenager. Her grandparents probably weren't even married yet.
No one knew her. And no one would believe her.
Her fingers twitched. "How do you kill a boy who hasn't become a monster yet?"
The sky above began to darken, clouds pressing low. Fat droplets started falling, slow at first, then in rapid sheets. Avery rose and pulled her hood up, the drizzle soaking her shirt, her knees, her thoughts.
By the time she reached her apartment, the streets were near empty. She unlocked the creaky door, set her bag down—and paused.
James hadn't come by in two days.
Not that he was supposed to. He wasn't her guardian. He had no idea who she was. But still, something inside her had started looking for him in the quiet. In the door creak. In the warmth of a knock that never came.
"I'm pathetic," she muttered.
She slipped off her soaked hoodie and glanced out the window.
That's when she saw them—blurs of movement just a few blocks down. Figures. Fists. A fight.
At first, she ignored it. Street brawls were as common in Greyhaven as cracked pavement. But something about the way the group was clustered, the way one of them was kneeling—
Avery's breath caught.
It was James.
He was on the ground, soaked, cradling someone in his arms.
Avery ran.
She shoved past arguing boys, darted through the rain, and skidded to a stop as the scene unfolded before her.
James was hunched over a boy—one she vaguely recognized from earlier that week. The boy's shirt was stained red, a pool of blood spreading beneath them. James wasn't crying, not exactly. But his hands trembled, curled around the boy's shoulders, his face pale with panic.
"I told you to stay back," he whispered hoarsely. "I told you not to follow me."
The boy didn't answer.
James leaned over him, brushing soaked hair from his brow. "Why'd you do it, huh? Jump in like that?"
Avery stepped closer.
James didn't notice. He muttered again, quieter this time—like a confession meant only for the rain.
"Why did I save you? What was the point... if you die now... how will I change the future?"
Avery's heart stopped.
Future?
She froze, the rain dripping from her lashes, from her sleeves. James... had said future.
Her mind raced.
Did he know something? Did he mean it literally? Or was he just—just desperate?
But the weight in his voice hadn't been dramatic. It had been true. Real. Raw. Like someone who had lived through something and wanted to fix it.
Just like her.
The boy in his arms groaned weakly, snapping James back into action. "Hang on, I've got you," he whispered.
Avery, still frozen, realized she wasn't breathing. Her eyes stayed locked on James.
He looked older in that moment. Not in years, but in soul. In sadness. And somewhere deep in her chest, something cracked.
What do you know, James Kane?
She stepped back slowly, quiet as the storm. She didn't know if he saw her. She didn't know if it mattered.
But one thing was certain now: she wasn't the only one chasing ghosts.