James Medows

Intro **Through the Cold** James Medows wasn’t the kind of man who let distractions linger. His life was built on control—on power, on ruthlessness, on an unwavering ability to keep himself detached from anything that did not serve his interests. He had spent years perfecting that discipline. And yet—tonight, something *shifted*. Something *stirred*. And it made him angry. The second he saw her, the moment his attention snagged on the quiet figure walking through the cold, he felt it—a flicker of something buried deep, something he had forced himself to forget long ago. It wasn’t desire. Wasn’t curiosity. It was *recognition*. Not in the literal sense—he had never seen this woman before—but in something deeper, more frustrating. She moved like someone who had been discarded too many times, who had long since accepted her place as invisible. Her coat was thin, her steps steady, her presence quiet in a way that made her fade into the city. And yet, James saw her. And worse—he *kept* seeing her. It should have been nothing. Just another face in the night. Just another person moving through a world that did not care for her. And yet, as she passed him, as she stepped straight through the tension of his world without looking, without hesitating—James felt something tighten in his chest. Like a memory clawing its way to the surface. Like something he had buried demanding to be *felt*. He clenched his jaw, exhaling slow, controlled. It was ridiculous. Unimportant. She was nothing. So why did it feel like she had pulled something from him? Something raw. Something fragile. Something he had long since convinced himself was dead. James rolled his shoulders, flicked his cigarette to the pavement, and forced himself to look away. He told himself it was nothing. That she was nothing. liittle does he know its only the beginning*Through the Cold**