The first thing Avery noticed was the grass.
Not the lush, curated kind you'd find outside a billionaire's mansion—no, this grass was real. Damp. Unruly. Slightly itchy against her legs. And the bugs? Absolutely thriving.
She sat up slowly, still in her oversized shirt and sleep shorts, legs bare, hair a tangled disaster. The rising sun cast golden light over the sloping valley, giving the whole place an uncomfortably idyllic vibe, like she'd dropped into the opening of a movie right before someone died dramatically.
Which, honestly, was kind of her brand lately.
"What the hell," she muttered, brushing dirt off her thighs. "Where... am I?"
No answer. Just birds.
And a goat bleating in the distance.
Avery blinked. "Seriously? A goat?"
She stood and stretched, groaning at the soreness in her back. Whatever interdimensional portal had dragged her out of bed last night could've at least offered a smoother landing. Rubbing the side of her hip, she wandered toward the road that curled like a lazy ribbon through the misty hills.
The breeze tasted like wildflowers and old dust. Not her city.
But it was familiar in the way a half-remembered dream is. A flicker of déjà vu whispered at the edge of her mind as she passed a rusted gate with peeling paint. On the other side stood a wide brick building, windows tall and grimy, the kind of place where teenagers got detention for breathing wrong.
And then she saw the sign:
GREYHAVEN HIGH SCHOOL.
Her feet froze.
Wait… Greyhaven?
It clicked like a lock snapping open.
This was his school. Her father's. James Kane had brought her here once—when she was little and still thought dandelions were magical and her dad was invincible. He'd laughed, pointed at the building, and said, "This is where I learned to fight dirty. And also geometry."
He didn't mention getting his ass handed to him, though.
As if on cue, shouting echoed from behind the school.
Curiosity—or fate—pulled her like a leash. She crept along the fence until the field came into view.
And there he was.
James Kane. Teen edition. All limbs and jawline, with a slightly too-big hoodie and that trademark scowl that hadn't aged a day. He was surrounded by a small group of boys who looked like they'd failed their morality checks in character creation. Avery counted four of them. They had that smug, sweaty energy of boys who peaked too early.
"Come on, Kane," one of the bullies drawled, tossing a half-eaten apple at James's chest. "You talk big—back it up."
"Maybe he left his balls at home," another said, nudging his friend and snorting.
James rolled his eyes. "If I had any interest in wasting time on cavemen, I'd go to the zoo."
Oooh, Avery thought, biting back a laugh. Sassy. Dad, you didn't tell me you had one-liners in high school.
Apparently, bullies didn't appreciate sarcasm.
One of them—massive, muscles built like a boss-level NPC—shoved James hard. He stumbled, regained his balance, and—surprisingly—stepped forward.
"I'll fight," he said, voice steady. "Leave them alone."
Avery squinted. "Wait… what?" Her brow furrowed. "No, no, no—you suck at fighting. You told me you once broke your wrist trying to punch a guy who was wearing a backpack."
And boy, was she right. The first punch thrown knocked James off his feet so fast, she winced on instinct.
"Okay. That's it." She stepped forward, ready to leap in from her elevated perch when—
"HEY! What's going on here?"
A ripple passed through the group. The kids straightened. Like magic, the bullying stopped, replaced by nervous shuffling and eye-avoidance.
Two boys were approaching.
One walked with lazy swagger, hands in his pockets, the other more serious, sharp-eyed. The group parted like the Red Sea as they approached.
And there he was.
Ethan Carrington.
White hair that curled just slightly at the ends. Eyes as dark as a black hole and twice as dangerous. A smirk tugging at his lips that said, I own you, without ever needing to speak.
Avery's blood chilled, even as her mouth went dry. Her brain screamed, THAT'S HIM, but her body—traitorous and curious—whispered, Damn. That bone structure, though.
The tall one beside him muttered something under his breath.
Ethan yawned. "Didn't I say no fights before lunch? You guys are making me look like a principal."
Muscle-boy from earlier—clearly a low-level henchman—straightened. "Sorry, Ethan. We were just... showing Kane some respect."
"By showing him the ground?" Ethan tilted his head. "That's original. What's next, shoving pencils up noses?"
Avery couldn't help it. She snorted.
Loudly.
And immediately ducked behind the ledge. "Shit."
Ethan's head snapped up toward the sound. His dark eyes scanned the ridge above the field. "Did you hear that?"
The other boy nodded. "Sounded like a goat sneezed."
"Or someone spying."
"Maybe both."
Avery flattened herself against the grass. "Real smooth, genius," she whispered. "Fall into time, spy on your teenage father getting curb-stomped, and then get caught snorting at the mafia's future prince. Fantastic."
And yet… she peeked again.
James was standing now, wiping blood from his lip. But his eyes were locked on Ethan. Not with fear. Not with awe. But something else. Something complicated.
Avery watched Ethan step forward, eyes narrowed, expression unreadable. Then, he turned to James.
"Next time someone hits you," Ethan said, "hit back. Or call me."
James blinked. "Why would I call you?"
Ethan smirked. "Because I'm nicer than I look."
The other boy muttered, "Lies."
Avery had to shove her fist in her mouth to stop the laugh that nearly exploded out of her.
This was insane. This was the boy who'd grow into a killer? This was the heartless mafia leader she'd spent a year planning to destroy?
And her dad?
Getting beaten up and rescued by the very man who would one day murder him?
"I hate time travel," she whispered.
And then, Ethan looked up again.
Right at her.
Their eyes locked.
And Avery Kane forgot how to breathe