Brinehurst had always been known for its rough edges. Cracked pavements, dimly lit streets, and neighborhoods where even the bravest students thought twice before walking alone. Yet lately, things had started to shift.
Some corners of the district looked a little cleaner than before. The groups of delinquents who used to linger outside convenience stores, shaking down the odd student who wandered by, had all but vanished. The constant fighting between rival crews in the area seemed to be dying down. And, strangely enough, polished, premium-looking gyms were springing up in places where old rundown shops used to be.
But Brinehurst was still Brinehurst. No amount of fresh paint or new gyms could cover the truth: the district was underfunded by the council, neglected by the mayor, and forgotten by the main city of Notting Hill. Its darkness ran deep, and there were still plenty of places where shadows ruled.
One of those shadows moved now.
