“Minutes.” Keys clattered furiously through the speakers. “Three vehicles dispatched from different locations, converging. Heavy tactical team.”
My throat constricted, and I looked up at Reaper, my face filled with panic. He turned to me, his expression calculating but oddly calm. “Exit routes?”
“Northeast alley connects to the service road behind the textile district.” The informant’s words came faster now. “Move fast, stay off main streets. Get the USB. And don’t forget what’s on it, Ms. Durham—your brother’s intake files. Proof of everything they did to him.”
The center screen went black. The other monitors flashed once and died.
“He’s covering his tracks.” Reaper moved to the door, pushing it open. “Smart.”
We slipped back through the narrow passage. The room seemed darker than before, shadows pooling in corners. Reaper reached the keypad by the entrance and didn’t hesitate—he jammed his fingers into the edge of the panel and tore it completely from the wall. Wires dangled, but a small black USB drive was taped to the back.
He pulled it free and handed it to me. “Secure this.”
I slipped it into my inner jacket pocket and zipped it closed, hand lingering over the spot. “How close are they?”
“Too close.” He pressed one ear to the exterior door.
The reality of our situation hit me in a cold wave. “What if this is a trap? What if the informant...”
“Doesn’t matter now.” Reaper’s hand found mine in the darkness, surprisingly gentle despite the urgency. “We move.”
He pulled the door open a crack, surveyed the empty street, then tugged me through. The night air hit my face like a hot slap, rain drizzling, bringing with it diesel exhaust and rain-slick pavement.
“Stay close.” His voice was barely audible.
We slipped along the building’s edge, hugging the shadows. Every sound magnified—my breathing, the scrape of my shoes against concrete, a distant car horn. Reaper navigated with absolute certainty, guiding us through a maze of narrow passages between buildings.
When we reached a chain-link fence, he lifted me up and over before scaling it himself with disturbing ease. I landed hard on the other side, pain shooting through my ankles, but he caught my elbow before I stumbled.
“Keep moving,” he murmured.
The narrow alley opened into a wider service road. Abandoned loading docks lined one side, their metal shutters covered in graffiti. The buildings loomed dark and empty.
Headlights suddenly swept across the road ahead, illuminating raindrops I hadn’t noticed were falling.
Reaper pulled me into a recessed doorway, his body shielding mine as the vehicle passed slowly. Not police—unmarked black SUV with tinted windows.
“They’re sweeping the perimeter,” he whispered against my ear. His breath was warm on my skin, raising goosebumps despite our danger.
“What’s on the USB?” I asked, my hand instinctively covering the pocket where it was hidden.
“Hopefully, answers.” His eyes met mine in the darkness, something unreadable passing between us. “If we live long enough to look.”
Another set of headlights appeared at the far end of the road. This time, moving faster.
“Run.” Reaper took my hand again. “Run!”
Chapter 7
Maeve
I ran with my lungs burning, rain plastering my hair to my face. The USB drive pressed against my ribs through the inner pocket of my jacket, its weight insignificant yet monumental. My fingers kept returning to the zipper, checking it remained closed.
“Don’t look back. Keep moving,” Reaper ordered, his voice barely audible above the rain that had intensified from drizzle to downpour.
We emerged from a narrow alleyway into what must have been a bustling marketplace hours earlier. Now, metal shutters covered most stalls, their owners having sensed the approaching storm—or perhaps something more dangerous. The few remaining vendors hurriedly packed their goods, casting nervous glances at the sky and the armed man at my side.
Rain caught in my eyelashes, blurring my vision. I blinked it away, scanning for threats through the hazy glow of streetlamps that reflected off every wet surface. Years of investigative fieldwork had taught me to identify surveillancepatterns, but nothing in my experience had prepared me for this level of pursuit.
