She fled into a forest she did not know, branches scraping her skin, thorns tearing at her clothes, until she was completely lost.
By cruel luck, she wandered near a drug dealer's hideout. Just as she was about to retreat, she saw a boy.
A boy with black hair and deep, watchful eyes, scanning his surroundings like a cornered animal searching for a weapon.
That boy was Silas.
He was ten years old at the time. Ivy, who had never celebrated her birthday, remained seven, leaving a three-year gap between them.
When Silas noticed her, surprise flickered across his face, but he quickly masked it and subtly formed an SOS signal with his hand.
By then, Ivy had learned enough to understand.
She followed his gaze to the men nearby and immediately knew she could not defeat them. So she hid.
An entire day passed. Ivy did not dare move, her body pressed against the cold earth, her breath shallow.
