[Emma POV]
I burst through the massive doors of the clubhouse and into the bite of the morning, cold air slapping against my skin like a warning. It stung—sharp and unwelcoming—as if the world itself resented my presence. I sucked in a lungful, hoping for clarity, for some sense of control. But all I got was diesel and ash, thick and metallic on my tongue, scraping down my throat like rusted nails.
The sun hung overhead, faint and veiled behind a haze of smoke and exhaust. It didn’t warm. It just watched. Silent. Relentless. A pale god, indifferent to suffering. The gravel crunched beneath my boots like breaking bones, a brittle echo that followed me like guilt.
“Already running?”
The voice cut through the wind like a blade through silk—sharp, precise, and cold enough to still the bloo
