Chapter 11 · free to read
Nine-fourteen. Every item on that slip, in order, to the minute. Except one.
Because on my wrist it was nine-eighteen. His day was perfect for the building and four minutes wrong for me.
He handed me the one clue nobody had thought to sell, and he handed it over for nothing, because he wanted a brother more than he wanted a hold on me.
Artwork and narration generated with AI.