The bus ride to Oakhaven felt like a slow descent into a different reality. By the time the driver grunted the name of the stop at four in the morning, the glittering skyline of my old life was nothing more than a fever dream. I stepped off the rusted metal stairs and onto a cracked asphalt lot that smelled of damp pine and woodsmoke.
The rain had tapered off into a biting, bone-deep mist.
Oakhaven wasn't much more than a collection of weathered buildings clinging to a mountainside, far removed from the neon pulse of the city. My backpack felt heavier than ever, the wrapped gold and gemstones inside pressing against my spine like a secret I could never tell. I pulled my hood lower, my eyes scanning the empty street for shadows that didn’t belong.
Every rustle of a windblown leaf made
