Adrian's POV
He walked until his feet hurt.
Not toward anything. Away from everything. The river, the studio, the girl who was keeping secrets he couldn't name. He walked through neighborhoods that grew poorer, then richer, then poor again, the city's architecture shifting without pattern or purpose.
His phone was dead. He didn't care.
Ethan's phone — the one he'd taken — was in his pocket, heavy with evidence he hadn't read. Messages from Richard. Documents. The proof of his mother's planned escape. He couldn't open it. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
He found a park bench at dawn.
Sat. Watched the sky lighten from black to gray to something that might have been blue if he could remember what colors looked like. A woman walked past with a dog. A man jogged by with headphones. The world con
