Chapter 2: Broken Glass & Pouring Rain

MAVIS:
“Window!”
The word tears out of my throat like it scrapes something on the way up.
I don’t think. I just move.
I throw myself through the glass.
It explodes around me—loud, bright. It bites into my skin, catches in my sweater, but I don’t slow down long enough to care. It’s everywhere, like the world just cracked open for me specifically.
I’m grinning as I fall.
Not because it’s funny.
Because I feel free.

I land hard on the pavement, knees jarring, momentum carrying me forward anyway. Pain flashes, sharp and quick, then gets swallowed by the rain.
I bite the inside of my cheek until I taste copper and spit into the street.
Red disappears instantly in the downpour.
Behind me—boots.
Fast. Close. Getting organized.
Axel is already struggling to keep up, breath breaking apart in his chest. Jasper is ahead for half a second—of course he is—until I hook his hoodie and yank him back into line without even looking at him.
“Stay with me,” I snap.
He doesn’t argue. Just adjusts.
Axel lags again, wheezing, but he pushes harder when he realizes I’m not waiting.

I let out a sharp sound—half laugh, half yelp—pure adrenaline, no thought behind it. My body feels too loud for my skin.
“Hurry!” I shout, as we run on the sidewalk racing the cars that pass by. cutting through the rain, pushing us forward.
We hit the alley to Crimson. It’s supposed to be home.
It’s an abandoned subway. The entrance is half-dead like everything else in this city—stairs cracked open, metal groaning, the kind of place rats probably have more authority than people.
I pull the door open—
—and stop.
Like my body freezes.

Mr. Creed stands at the end of the hallway.
Cigarette in his mouth like it belongs here more than us.
I pause so hard it feels like my bones lock.
No information. No delivery. Nothing in our hands but failure, blood and rainwater.
I try to back up immediately, slow, careful—like maybe I can undo the fact we exist here—

Jasper barrels in behind me and kills the escape route instantly.
I shoot him a look that could’ve dented metal.
He doesn’t even react at first. Just scoffs—
then sees Creed.
And goes still.

Axel and Mika trail in after us, slower, like they already know what this is.
Creed doesn’t move.
Doesn’t blink.
Just lights another cigarette like we’re a delay he didn’t ask for.
The silence stretches until it feels physical. Like the hallway is tightening around us.
“Where’s my stuff?” he asks.
Low. Rough. Controlled in a way that feels worse than yelling.

His eyes stay locked on Mika.
No one answers.
No one breathes right.
Mika steps forward anyway.
“We were cornered.”

Creed exhales smoke slowly, like he’s choosing how angry to be.

“So you failed me again.”

The words snap sharper on the last syllable.
“This subway stays warm because my generators run on my money. No paper, no heat. Bleed on someone else’s tonight.”
He takes another drag. He scoffs in a way that sounds like he thinks it’s funny.

“And if you don’t come back by dawn with a plan to fix this—don’t come back at all.”
My jaw tightens and eyes narrow before I can stop it.

Asshole.

I smooth my face out fast. Neutral. Easy. Totally.

Jasper sighs beside me like this is just weather.
Creed keeps going anyway. Like it’s not enough.

“I took you children in to work. Off the street when no one wanted you to find all the evidence her murder.”

He says it like it’s generosity instead of control.

“My wife’s murder ain’t no joke? You know that?”

Axel nods.
Immediate. Automatic.
Like approval is something he still thinks he can earn.
Creed notices.
His expression flickers—something sharp and possessive, gone too fast to name.
Then he jerks his head toward the door.

Dismissed.

All of us.
Soaked. Shaking. Bleeding.
Like we’re disposable.

What a dumbass.

Axel turns first.
Jasper follows, slow and blank, like he’s already halfway out of his own body.
I wait half a second longer.
Then I move.
As I reach the railing, I turn back. Dangling my body holding on tight.

I smile and wave at him like he’s an old friend.

Like I dont wanna fight back and scream in his face. Like I’m not memorizing every detail of his face for later.

He doesn’t react.
Doesn’t blink.
Just watches.
Mika comes out last.
Head low.
Dead-eyed in that way that makes everything about him feel heavier than it should.

I skip up the stairs anyway.
Like the glass in my skin is just another thing I can outrun.