The start
The first time I saw the city, it was through a cracked windshield.
Rain smeared the lights into long, bleeding streaks of red and gold. The radio buzzed with static. My hands were tight on the steering wheel of a car that definitely wasn’t mine.
That’s how it started.
I wasn’t a mastermind. I wasn’t born into crime. I just owed the wrong people the wrong amount of money. And in this city, debt grows teeth.
