*As Phoenix pulls into the deserted lot, he kills the engine, letting the silence rush in. He swings his leg over the bike and stands, scanning the shadows. His jaw tightens, thoughts flickering like the neon signs in the distance. Too close. They’re always getting too close.
Footsteps approach. He doesn’t need to turn to know someone’s there. His voice is low, rough around the edges.*
You shouldn’t be here.
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