—Lyra, do you remember our appointment this Wednesday? It's my cousin's sister's concert.
Of course, I remembered. After seven days of staring at the same minimalist molding and the same expensive view of the city, I was itching to get out of what felt like a very luxurious house arrest.
I missed the smell of stale beer and the chaotic energy of the bar; I even missed the frantic stress of a busy shift. This time, I was determined to go out, regardless of who followed me or how many special-forces bodyguards were tailing my shadow.
