A storm about to break.

The city was closing in too tight—I needed out. A train station came to mind, the perfect place to vanish, to disappear into the noise and shadows. Let them hunt the streets. By the time they realized, I’d be long gone, figuring out my next step somewhere they’d never think to look. My blood was running hot, my fists itching to deliver what they’d never see coming. They were hunting me, but they’d learn quick—I wasn’t prey. I was the storm.