This was it. The last page. The one piece of my past that wouldn’t stay buried. And it was close—closer than it had been in years. Getting in there was going to cost me whatever pride I had left. But I’d come this far. No turning back now.

So, there I was, stripped down to nothing but the essentials, all slicked up like a greased eel and squeezing my way through the duct system. Not my proudest moment, I’ll admit. But a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.

I dropped into the room like a damn bowling ball, all oil-slick and zero finesse. Hit the floor with a smack that still rings in my ears. Real graceful, Rebel, real graceful. But there it was—the page. Encased in glass, lit up like it was some kind of saintly relic. Only difference? The face staring back at me was mine. Younger, more naive, and far more exposed than I’d ever want anyone to see.

“Almost home free,” I muttered, taking a step toward the case.

That’s when fate decided to get a laugh in. One wrong step on that oil-slick floor, and down I went, smacking my head hard enough to see stars. Last thing I remember was thinking, Perfect. Just perfect.

When I came to, there were voices. Guards. Great. Just what I needed.

My heart stopped. With nothing else around me but a waxwork figure in the corner, I did the only thing I could think of—I pressed myself up against the wall beside it, posing like I was just another piece of the decor.

“Hey, Joe, you seen this?” one of them said, a voice dripping with clueless admiration. “Boss must’ve made another purchase. Looks like… well, hell, kinda looks like Rebel Vale.”

Joe ambled in and let out a low whistle. “Yeah, it’s filthy, clothes must be off for cleaning… Does look real familiar, though. Hey, I think it is Rebel Vale, only...uglier.”

Nice. Real nice.

Then his buddy pipes up. “Ain’t she something, though? You see that Rolling Bone issue? Man, I’d like to take a run at her!”

And that’s where I drew the line. I might’ve been compromised, half-naked, and smeared with enough oil to grease an engine, but I wasn’t about to let that slide.

I dropped the waxwork act and stormed over, giving the guard my best death glare before bringing my knee up right between his legs. The sound he made was almost satisfying, like a whimper mixed with a grunt as he hit the floor, clutching himself.

“You won’t be taking a run at anyone anytime soon, pal,” I blasted, leaning over his crumpled form. His buddy just stood there, wide-eyed, hand frozen halfway to his radio.

I shot him a look. “Any other commentary you’d like to share?”

He stammered something, but I was already moving toward the glass case. I could hear footsteps echoing down the hall—more guards on the way. Typical. Nothing’s ever simple in this city.

I scanned the edge of the case, searching for a way to pop it open, but my oily fingers slipped on every corner. No time for finesse. I grabbed a fire extinguisher off the wall, swung it, and watched the glass shatter around me. Reached in, and there it was, the last page, clutched in my oily hands like it was my lifeline.

Then I heard it—the unmistakable click of a gun cocking behind me.

“Drop it, Vale,” a voice growled. “You’ve caused enough trouble tonight.”

I turned, hands up, giving them my best sarcastic grin. “Boys, you might want to lower that hardware. I’d hate for you to end up like your friend here, singing soprano.”

They exchanged glances, uncertain, their gaze flicking to the guy still writhing on the floor. But they weren’t backing down. One of them stepped closer, sneering. “You’re not getting out of here, Vale. Not with that page.”

I sighed, sizing them up. It was getting late, and I was tired of this city’s endless games. “You boys ever heard of performance art?”

Before they could answer, I dropped the fire extinguisher on the floor, letting it burst into a blinding spray of white fog. They coughed, stumbled, and I slipped past them, bolting for the nearest exit, sliding and slipping as the mist filled the room.

I stumbled out into an alley, my chest heaving, the prized page safe in my hands. I leaned against the wall, staring down at it, at the face of my younger, dumber self looking back at me.

“Hope you enjoyed the show, sweetheart,” I muttered while quickly throwing on my clothes, I tucked it deep into my jacket, safe.

The past never really stays buried, no matter how hard you try. But at least now, I was one step closer to putting this particular piece of it to rest. Just me, a few bruises, and one less ghost hanging around.

I shoved my hands in my pockets and walked off into the night, the weight of that last page pressing against my side like a reminder of what I’d left behind. And just like everything else in this godforsaken city, I knew it wouldn’t be gone for good… but for tonight, it was enough.