The place didn't have a name yet.
Just streets. Noise. The lights that hummed too loudly. Buildings stacked on each other like they were tired of standing alone. Wherever I was, it breathed heavy — like a living thing that didn't care who walked through it.
The woods had let me go without ceremony. One step, I was surrounded by trees; the next, I was swallowed by pavement and smell. Oil. Smoke. Old rain. Something burnt and forgotten.
This body moved differently here.
More certain.
Like it had walked these kinds of streets before, even if I hadn't. The way my shoulders angled. The way my eyes kept moving. The way my hands stayed close to my sides.
That scared me.
Victoria.
The name pressed against my thoughts again. Every time I tried to push it away, my chest tightened — sharp, insistent—a pull that didn't care about logic or survival.
I stopped beneath a buzzing streetlight and pulled out the phone.
It turned on.
Low battery. One bar blinking like a warning.
No lock screen. No protection. Like he'd wanted this thing to be found — or like he didn't think he'd need it anymore.
Photos loaded slowly.
Too many of the same girl.
Different ages. Different smiles. Missing teeth. Birthday cakes. One where she was asleep on a couch, mouth open, hugging a stuffed animal worn thin with love.
His daughter.
I didn't need a memory to understand that. Grief isn't something you learn — it just arrives and settles in your chest like it owns the place.
Messages were worse.
Drafts. Half-sent apologies. One long message typed late at night, never delivered.
I'm trying. I swear I am. Just give me a little more time.
Time didn't answer.
A car passed too slowly. My head lifted without thinking. Instinct. I slid the phone back into my pocket and kept walking.
I didn't know where I was.
But this body did.
And that might've been the most dangerous thing of all.
I caught my reflection in a dark window.
Streetlight buzzing overhead. Glass warped just enough to make the face look unfamiliar — which helped, because it was.
I raised a hand.
The reflection followed.
Still not me.
But closer than before.
"Who were you?" I asked quietly.
No memory came. No flash. Just a heaviness behind my ribs — not grief this time.
Resolve.
Someone killed him.Someone took his daughter.Someone thought ice and silence would end it.
They were wrong.
I didn't know where I was. Didn't know how I got here. Didn't know how long this borrowed life would hold together.
But I knew one thing with absolute certainty:
I wasn't done.
Not until Victoria was found.Not until the man who smiled before pulling the trigger learned what it felt like to be hunted by something that didn't know how to stay dead.
I stepped forward, letting the city swallow me whole —a man without a past,carrying someone else's unfinished one.