The hum of traffic, the distant wail of sirens, the overlapping voices—it all blended into something almost comforting. Normal. Predictable. Safe. A word she still didn’t fully trust.

Her hands tightened briefly around the paper bag she carried, the motion subtle, instinctive. Someone brushed past her shoulder, too close, too fast.

For a split second, her body reacted before her mind could catch up. Muscles tensed. Balance shifted. Every exit mapped. Every threat assessed.

Then it was gone. She forced herself to breathe. That life was over. No missions. No handlers. No orders whispered through static-filled comms.

Above her, a sudden explosion shattered the illusion. The ground trembled. People screamed. Somewhere in the distance—Central Park.

Y/n stopped. For a moment, she told herself to keep going. It wasn’t her problem. It wasn’t her world anymore.

Then came the second blast. Closer. Her jaw tightened.