Cracks in Time
Colson POV I didn’t run. Running draws attention. Running says guilty. Running says chased. Running says I absolutely have something catastrophic tucked under my shirt. So I walked. Measured steps. Casual pace. Head up. Eyes half-lidded like I was bored instead of actively carrying a piece of something that could collapse entire power structures. The fragment pressed against my ribs like a second heartbeat. Not painful. Just present. Aware. I cut through back streets, doubled back twice, paused long enough in one shadow to make sure I wasn’t being tailed. Every instinct I had screamed that someone should be behind me. That I’d turn and find Kendrick’s witch smiling through the dark like a cat who’d found the cream. Nothing. Which didn’t make me feel better. By the time I rea
- Writer
