Marcus ducked behind a stack of crates, his breath shallow, eyes locked on the alley. Just ahead, his older self leaned casually against the wall, pendant now glowing faintly beneath his coat.
Then—
Footsteps.
Familiar.
Liam.
He was coming.
Marcus held his breath.
And then, he saw him.
"Morning, old man," Liam said with a smirk. He reached into the front pocket of his hoodie and pulled out a slightly squashed sandwich wrapped in wax paper. "Brought you the good stuff today—turkey and cheese. Be grateful, alright?"
