Chapter 47. The Line

The gym was empty except for the sound of the heavy bag swaying on its chain.

Lia stood barefoot on the mat, hand wraps loose, skin damp with old sweat. The city outside was hushed under snow, the kind of quiet that made everything sound like it was holding its breath.

Her reflection in the mirror was unkind—jaw bruised, lip split, eyes rimmed with sleeplessness. But there was something new beneath the damage: stillness.

She hit the bag once.

Twice.

Let the sound fill the room.

Each impact sent a pulse up her arms and into her ribs, steady and familiar. Pain was the first thing she’d ever trusted; it didn’t lie.

On the floor beside her sat the folder she hadn’t opened again since last night. Photos. Ethan. The card. The words: You win, he dies. You lose, you live.

Her mind kept circling back to the syntax—not threat, but equation. A rule. Someone believing she’d obey it because she always did.

She wrapped her hands tighter. “Not