Chapter 45. The Envelope

The world after a win was always too bright.

Arena lights still burned behind her eyes long after she left them—ghost halos that followed her through the alleys and glass reflections.

Lia walked home through drizzle that felt more like static than rain. Her body hummed with residual adrenaline, her mind two beats behind. Every noise was too sharp—cars splashing through puddles, distant sirens, the buzz of a streetlight that couldn’t decide whether to die or live.

She should’ve felt triumphant.

Instead, she felt watched.

She reached her building and climbed the stairs slowly, each step creaking like an old joint. The adrenaline had already curdled into exhaustion by the time she reached her door.

For a second, she hesitated. The hall was too quiet—neighbors’ doors closed, no faint hum of a TV, no smell of takeout drifting through vents. Just silence thick enough to be intentional.

She unlocked the door. The lock turned too easily.

Insid