Rain fell in sheets over the ruins of what used
to be a university.
Dr. Lila Voss ducked into the crumbling lab, her
boots squelching through sludge.
"This is insane," she muttered,
staring at the h
umming machine in the center of the room.
She’d built it to test quantum decay, not time t
ravel.
But the numbers didn’t lie.
Something had shifted.
A pulse. A tear. A window.
And now the air smelled like old copper and dang
er.
"Initiate sequence," she whispered.
The machine whirred louder.
Then the lights went out.
A flash. A scream.
Darkness.
She woke to the scent of bourbon and cigar smoke
.
A gramophone played jazz nearby.
Her body ached. Her head throbbed.
Wherever she was, it wasn’t the future.
"Welcome to 1942, sweetheart," a man drawled.
She turned to see a tall figure in a sharp suit,
tie crooked, eyes cold.
"You're not from here, are you?"
Lila blinked.
He knew.
"You’ve got that look," he said,
lighting a ciga
rette.
"What look?"
"The one that says you don’t belong."
She sat up slowly, taking in the room—woodpanele
d walls, velvet curtains, a bar in the corner.
Not a lab. Not a shelter.
A speakeasy.
"You think I timetraveled?" she asked.
"I know you did," he said.
"Who are you?"
"Call me Vance."
"Vance what?"
"Just Vance."
He took a drag, studying her.
"You’re the one who cracked the code, aren’t you
?"
She didn’t answer.
"You built the machine."
She swallowed.
"You're not from here either."
He smiled.
"No. I’m from much later."
She was moved that night.
Blindfolded. Handcuffed.
Driven through narrow streets.
The car stopped.
She was shoved inside a mansion.
Cold stone floors. Heavy drapes.
"You’ll stay here," Vance said.
"Why?"
"Because you’re dangerous."
"To who?"
"To me."
She narrowed her eyes.
"You’re not from this time."
"No," he said.
"You’re from mine."
He looked at her, long and hard.
"Or a version of it."
"And you're holding me here why?"
"To make sure you don’t change anything."
"Like what?"
"Like me."
They kept her in a locked room.
No windows. No tech.
Just a bed, a desk, and books.
Old books.
1940s law tomes.
"Trying to keep me docile?" she asked.
Vance smirked.
"Trying to keep you busy."
"Or informed."
He handed her a stack of papers.
"Read. Learn. Stay quiet."
"Why?"
"Because if you don’t, you’ll try to fix things.
"
"Shouldn’t I?"
He stepped closer.
"You don’t know what you’ll break."
"Or who," she whispered.
He didn’t move.
"You think I’m your villain."
"I think you’re trying to control me."
His jaw tightened.
"I’m trying to save us both."
Days passed.
Weeks.
She read everything.
Learned the war effort. The blackouts. The under
ground deals.
She learned about him.
Vance Cade.
Billionaire. Owner of the Chicago Ravens.
Widely feared. Rarely seen.
Rumored to have ties to the mob.
But she saw the truth in the papers.
He wasn’t from this time.
He was from hers.
A version of it.
One where she built the machine.
And he was there.
Watching.
Waiting.
She found the article dated 1943.
“Vance Cade disappears after Ravens win Super Bo
wl."
She stared at the date.
That shouldn’t exist yet.
Unless he’d brought it forward.
He was rewriting history.
To keep her trapped.
So he wouldn’t lose her.
She found the key in the desk drawer.
Copper. Heavy.
It fit the lock.
She turned it slow.
Listened.
No footsteps.
She slipped into the hallway.
Moonlight through a stainedglass window lit the
way.
She moved silently.
Reached the study.
Papers everywhere.
Blueprints. Schematics.
Her handwriting.
"Impossible," she whispered.
He’d copied her work.
Built his own machine.
To follow her.
She heard the door creak behind her.
"Going somewhere?"
She turned.
Vance stood there, gun in hand.
"Did you really think I wouldn’t know?"
"I think you knew I’d try."
He lowered the gun.
"I just wish you’d stay."
"Why?"
"Because I love you."
She froze.
"In your time, you never met me."
"In yours, you didn’t survive the test run."
"So you came back?"
"To save you."
"To trap me."
He looked away.
"I couldn’t lose you again."
She stared at him.
Rain pattered against the window.
"You built your own machine," she said.
"To follow you."
"You think this is love?"
"I think this is survival."
"For who?"
"For us."
She stepped closer.
"You don’t even know me."
"I know the woman who changed the world."
"I changed it for everyone."
"Not me," he said.
"You left me behind."
She swallowed.
"I didn’t know you existed."
"You do now."
"And now what?"
"Now, you decide."
"Decide what?"
"If you want to stay."
"With you?"
"With history."
She looked out the window.
The city was alive.
Jazz. War. Hope.
This was a world she didn’t know.
But she could shape it.
With him.
Or without.
She turned back.
"I’m not staying in a cage."
He smiled.
"I know."
And he stepped aside.
The door was open.
"So go."
She hesitated.
"You’re letting me go?"
"You’re letting yourself go."
She stared at him.
Then walked out.
Into the night.
Alone.
But free.
