The buzzing of her phone skidding across the old coffee table jolted her from her dreamless sleep. Her neck ached from sleeping on the too-low couch after her shift at The Rusty Anchor. The sun was pouring through the tilted blinds in their small apartment, blindingly bright, making her squint as she reached for the phone. Her hand brushed against the stiff edge of the hundred-dollar bill she had stuffed into her apron pocket. Damian Blackwood's gray eyes and cold stare were still burned into her memory. She had spent the night looking him up, reading everything she could find. He was practically a ghost. Barely any social media presence, which struck her as strange. She scolded herself for even thinking about him and looked back at her phone screen.

Grace’s name glowed: “Outside. Open up, please, let me in.” Relief and irritation tangled inside her. She had muted Grace’s texts after the last hospital visit. Grace’s endless positivity had felt like too much, like trying to patch a dam with tape. But here she was, like clockwork, showing up to bring some light into Selina’s dim little world. Selina pushed herself off the ground, every part of her body sore from the twelve-hour shift the day before. Her legs protested with every step. She shuffled to the door, wearing an oversized hoodie slipping off one shoulder, hair a knotted mess she hadn’t bothered to brush.

Grace Kensington stood waiting in the hallway, all bold energy in her scuffed boots and leather jacket. Her red hair was pulled into a messy bun that somehow still looked like it had a purpose. She didn’t wait for an invitation. Her green eyes were sharp and focused as she stepped inside, brushing past Selina like she owned the space.

"God, you look like hell. How long’s it been since you actually slept?"

Selina winced, pulling the door closed with a quiet thud. She folded her arms, voice low. “I’m fine.” It was a lie she’d repeated too many times, older than the creaking linoleum beneath her feet. The apartment smelled like stale coffee and damp clothes. It was a studio with a couch that sagged in the middle, a cramped kitchenette, and Ethan’s unmade mattress in the corner beside a pile of comics.

Grace dumped her bag on the table, and papers spilled out—notes, clippings, a pen that rolled onto the floor. She turned, hands on her hips.

"You’re not fine. Ethan’s not okay."

Selina took a step back like Grace’s words physically hit her. She always did this when Grace brought up Ethan, like curling into herself could protect her.

"We have to talk about this."

Selina sat on the couch, eyes on the stained floor. “He’s... holding on.” Her voice was small.

Grace let out a sharp snort, moving toward her. Her boots scuffed as she walked. “Running from it isn’t going to help. The machines, the bills, we can’t just keep doing this, working shifts and hoping for a miracle.” She let her voice trail off into a long breath.

Selina felt something cave in her chest. Her hands curled into fists. She didn’t need Grace to finish the sentence. She already pictured Ethan every day, his body fading, slipping away in that sterile hospital bed while she sat powerless.

Grace’s tone softened just a bit. She crouched down, trying to meet Selina’s eyes. “Listen, I’ve been doing some digging. You know that rich family I’ve been talking about? They’ve got their hands in a lot of shady stuff. I found out they own hospitals, and they move money around. I think they’re dirty. If I find proof, I could pressure them, make them pay up, get Ethan what he needs.”

Selina’s eyes widened. For a second, she just stared at Grace, too stunned to speak. Then, something sharp and hot rose in her throat.

“You want to blackmail them?” Selina’s voice cracked, louder than she intended. “Are you even hearing yourself right now?”

Grace blinked, taken aback. “Selina, I’m just saying…”

“No,” Selina snapped, standing. “No, Grace. This isn’t one of your articles or some deep dive into corruption. This is real life. You can’t just dig up dirt and threaten people!”

Grace stood too. “I’m not saying I’ll do anything reckless. But if they’re dirty, they should pay. Ethan needs help, and no one’s stepping up. I’m trying to give us options.”

“By doing something illegal?” Selina barked. “Do you even hear yourself?”

She sucked in a shaky breath, trying to steady the tension curling in her chest. Then, with her jaw tight, she said,

“Grace Kensington, I love you more than life, but I’m not about to stand by while you throw yours away doing something that reckless. Blackmail? Seriously? That’s not saving Ethan. That’s setting yourself on fire.”

Grace folded her arms, jaw tightening. “So what, we just sit here and wait? Watch him get worse while we do nothing?”

Selina turned away, pacing. “I don’t care who they are. I don’t care what they’ve done. I don’t want you blackmailing anyone, Grace. Not for Ethan. Not for me. Not for any reason.”

Grace was quiet for a moment. When she spoke, her voice was lower. “You think I’m crossing a line.”

“I think you’re blowing the line up,” Selina said, facing her again. “And you’re talking about it like it’s no big deal.”

“I’m just trying to fix this,” Grace muttered, but there was less conviction in her tone now.

Selina’s voice softened. “There are things we can’t come back from. You want to fight for Ethan? Fine. But not like this. Don’t turn yourself into something ugly. Not for this.”

Grace looked down, jaw tense, her hands clenching the edge of her notebook.

“I’m not the brave one here,” Selina continued, quieter now, but steady. “I know I’ve always relied on you, I know I fall apart too easily, but I’m still allowed to have a say in what happens around me. And I’m telling you, this? This isn’t it.”

Grace exhaled, long and slow. Then she sat back down beside Selina, not saying anything for a beat.

“Okay,” she said finally. “Okay. No blackmail.”

Selina nodded once, breathing a sigh of relief.

Grace was already pulling out her phone, typing quickly. Probably looking for a new way forward.

Selina leaned over, narrowed her eyes, and said dryly, “If you so much as Google ‘how to blackmail someone legally,’ I’m calling the cops myself.”

Grace didn’t look up. “Cool. I’ll give them your number as my accomplice.”

Selina groaned. “God, I hate you,”

Grace smirked. “No, you don’t.”