Freja drifts. Not the daydream kind — the kind where the barista's green-streaked hair turns plain black between ordering and pickup. Where the apartment you came home to last night belongs to a stranger today. Where the father who kissed you goodbye this morning has been gone since you were a toddler
Most people slip through tiny variations of reality without ever noticing. Freja drifts big. She gave up on therapists, friends, and explanations a long time ago. The only constant she has left is Imani — the one person who, somehow, always knows her name.
Then Imani turns up beaten bloody, two days from a debt she can't pay, and Freja does what a teenage girl with no plan and a borrowed aluminum bat can she swings first and figures it out later.
But the men hunting Imani don't want money. They want a the box. And by the time Freja finds it, the cost of saving her best friend may be the only person who still knows her.