Chapter 28. The Blowback

The morning Chicago light had a way of making everything look like consequence.

Lia flexed her fingers and winced as pain shot from knuckle to elbow. Under the medical tape—three layers, wrapped so tight her fingertips tingled—each pulse of blood felt like someone hammering a nail. She studied the bruising that had crept halfway to her elbow overnight: plum-dark at the center, edges fading to the color of dried blood. The ice pack sat melting on the bathroom counter. Two twenty-minute sessions.

She could still hear Cassian’s voice: “You rest, you rot.” She mouthed the words like a prayer as she pulled her sleeve down.

She slipped her hoodie sleeve down to cover the bandage before stepping into the gym. Cameras were already there—sports news vans parked outside, a few reporters hovering near the door pretending to stretch. The blog post about her injury had caught fire overnight. Someone had leaked footage of her leaving the arena, wincing.

The caption burned