Sky didn't know what adrenaline really felt like—until it settled behind his ribs like a second heartbeat.
He had thirty bucks in cash, one burner phone, a backpack, and a name that wasn't his.
Day's world had taught him one thing:Don't panic. Just move.
He slipped out through the alley. Avoided cameras. Eyes down, hood up.
It was still dark.
He didn't take his usual route. Didn't even go near the station. Instead, he moved like Day had taught him—never in straight lines, never twice the same way.
The photo burned in his back pocket. So did the words.
"He can't save you."
Well.Maybe Sky could save Day instead.
His first stop: the old corner of the city where Day used to disappear.
The one with the tattoo parlors and windowless bars.The one Sky had never been allowed to see up close.
He slipped into a place called ONYX, all neon lights and dead stares.
A woman behind the bar clocked him instantly. Blonde braid. Gun under the counter.
"You're the boy," she said, voice low.
Sky blinked. "What?"
She jerked her head toward the back. "He told me if you ever walked in here alone, I was to send you to Kwon."
Sky's breath hitched.
So Day knew this might happen.
"He's in deep," she added, pouring him a glass of water like they weren't talking about mafia betrayals and threats.
"I need to find him," Sky said. "Before someone else does."
She looked at him then—not just with pity, but with a glimmer of something else.
Respect.
"Then run fast, sweetheart," she said. "Because someone's already moving against him."
Sky leaned forward. "Who?"
Her lips pressed into a line.
But then she slid a card across the table.
No name. Just a number. And the word:
Foxhole.
Sky didn't sleep. Didn't stop.He moved through forgotten tunnels, whispered passwords, followed instincts he didn't know he had.
And somewhere along the way…he stopped being afraid.
Because this wasn't about survival anymore.
It was about Day.
And Sky would walk through hell if that's where Day was headed.