A tall figure in a hooded coat waited against the brick. The hood cast their face in shadow, but the shape of their mouth was visible when they spoke — sharp, deliberate, like every word was weighed before release.

“You’re at the right place,” they said. “But the party’s been canceled.”

She gripped the strap harder. The gun inside the bag seemed to drag her down. “Canceled? What are you talking about? I’ve got a delivery.”

“Yeah, and so did that kid they just cuffed two blocks over.”

Her stomach tightened. “You… you saw that?”

“I see everything,” the figure said. The faint scent of tobacco drifted from them, mixed with something metallic. “And what I see is a girl about to walk right into a trap.”

A patrol car rolled past the alley mouth, its headlights cutting across her face. She flinched, pressing against the wall until it passed.

“A trap?” she whispered. “But Tenz—”

“Tenz,” the figure scoffed, the sound dry. “He’s been looking for a fall guy for months. Too much heat on him, so he feeds you to the cops. They bust you, he’s clean.”

Kyoline’s mind stuttered through the past hour — the phone call from Tenz, the promise of quick cash, the cruiser idling at the corner when she arrived. All coincidence until now.

Her chest hurt. “He told me it was a simple run. That I’d get a cut.”

“Simple for him,” the figure said. “You take the fall, he scares the rest into line. He gets loyalty without having to pay for it.”

Her hand shook against the strap. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you’re useful. And because I don’t like watching talent get burned for free.”

Another beam of light swept the alley — this time a flashlight. Someone called out from the street, the sound of boots crunching pavement.

“Move,” the figure said. They took her arm, firm but not rough, guiding her deeper into the alley where the shadows thickened. “Keep your head down.”

They stopped behind a dumpster, close enough for her to feel the warmth of their body. She could hear the faint, even sound of their breathing, unbothered by the search just feet away.

Bootsteps neared, paused, then retreated. The patrol car rolled off.

Only then did they speak again. “What’s in the bag isn’t just a gun.”

Her brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“There’s a chip inside it. Tenz has been planting them in his couriers’ drops for months. Tracks every move you make. Then he sells that data to anyone who pays enough — rivals, cops, doesn’t matter.”

She stared at them. The smell of tobacco clung to their coat. “So the others—”

“Were never unlucky,” they said. “They were tagged.”

Her fear shifted to anger, a hot coil in her stomach. “So what? I toss it and run?”

“No. We use it.”

She shook her head. “You want me to keep the chip that’s been tracking me?”

“Not exactly. We take it out. We leave the gun where he can find it on his tracker. He’ll think you ditched it and got away clean. Meanwhile, you’re working for me.”

She hesitated. “Working doing what?”

“Taking back everything he’s stolen. Shipments. Clients. Trust. You move in the dark, and Tenz never sees you coming.”

The cold night pressed against her skin. “I don’t even know who you are.”

Read Now