Chapter Text
Somewhere Outside Phoenix — 2:47 a.m.
The night air reeked of gasoline, gunpowder, and sweat.
Ling crouched behind the burning SUV, blood seeping from her temple, heart hammering like a countdown. Her knuckles were scraped raw. Her hands trembled, not from fear—but from rage.
They'd been ambushed.
The plan was clean. The crew was tight. The job should've been the last.
Now half their team was gone. The cash was scattered like confetti across the dirt. And Orm—
God, Orm was missing.
Ling scanned the chaos, the flicker of flames casting long shadows across the desert.
"Orm," she whispered into the comms, voice breaking. "Come on, baby. Say something."
Static.
Then a burst of breath.
"I'm here."
Ling closed her eyes, just for a second. Relief gutted her.
Then Orm's voice—choked, pained. "They took the car. I'm in the canyon. They think I'm dead."
Ling's grip tightened on the pistol.
"Don't move," she said coldly. "I'm coming."
The line crackled. "Ling—wait. Don't be stupid."
"I'm always stupid when it comes to you."
She stood, shoulders squared, blood dripping from her wrist like ink across a story that wasn't finished.
And then she ran—toward the gunfire, toward the ghosts, toward the only person who ever made her believe that she could be more than the damage she left behind.
Some people fall in love with poetry.
Ling fell in love with a loaded gun.
And it called itself Orm.