I stood there with Robert Calloway's fingers wrapped around my wrist, the door to the mountain hideout open behind us while the dusk pressed in and the corridor's single bulb threw its light across stacked crates. I had spent my life testing every line drawn around me, yet his dominant presence quieted the isolation I never admitted to anyone.

His chest remained inches from my shoulder as our hands rested on opposite edges of the faded map, neither of us moving away, and the rival who wanted to use me felt far less dangerous than the pull of surrendering to this assassin's control. How long could I keep defying him before the need to be truly seen overtook my urge to run?