And I’m going to cut it off him.
The worldsnaps back into motion the moment I hear him.
“I said fucking move!”
Twitchy’s voice tears through the market, a dozen yards behind me.
Yeah—he definitely saw me.
I pivot just enough to catch his expression. That murderous glare blazing with the fury of a thousand pissed-off devils. Honestly? It’s almost funny.
I swing my gaze back to Alejandro, lift an eyebrow, give him a tiny nod.
Then I run.
He does too.
I shove through the last cluster of shoppers and hit the door at full speed, bursting out into the street. The cold air smacks my face, but I don’t slow. My legs take over—trained muscle memory, long strides, razor focus.
Behind me, the old-timer drops his newspaper. His sprint isn’t what it used to be, but he’s still fast enough to be annoying.
I keep going.
Head down and arms pumping.
Dodging commuters already spilling into the sidewalks.
A gunshot cracks behind me.
The bullet slams into a wooden stall so close to my head I can feel the splinters kiss my cheek. Guess the old man’s not in the mood for cardio.
Screams erupt and the street explodes into chaos.
People scatter, running in every direction—and I use the mess to duck down an extra block.
I plan to double back toward the station, but a sharp, cold feeling tightens in my gut.
Eyes.
On me.
Alejandro.
He went high.
Probably staring at me through a scope right now, finger hovering over a trigger that’s ended more lives than famine.
I veer hard, turning down an aisle I nearly miss. Bright umbrellas stretch overhead like a canopy, shielding the alley from any aerial viewpoint. Perfect.
I slip through them, adjusting my route every few steps in case a high-caliber round is tracking my skull.
My hand dives into my pocket. Fingers close around a coin.
I hit the end of the alley at a sprint, vault over a low gate, then another, ignoring the guards shouting behind me as I clear the barriers surrounding the station plaza.
Ishouldhave checked train schedules yesterday.
If I had been here working, I would have every train and flight scheduledown in case I needed a quick exit. But I was acting like a person on vacation instead of a burnout assassin trying to detox from murder.
