Our flight isn’t even boarding yet.
Twenty minutes.
That’s a fucking problem.
Twenty minutes means standing around. Sitting at a gate. Being predictable. It means letting the Guild’s patience outlast mine, and patience is their specialty. Airports are perfect for it. Bottlenecks. Crowds. Too many places to hide a blade and call it an accident.
I don’t intend to die next to a charging station.
My eyes keep moving, sliding down the board with purpose now. If I’m still being hunted, then waiting is the worst possible plan. I need to be moving. Ahead of them. Somewhere they aren’t expecting me to be yet.
Dubai is the destination either way. That part doesn’t change.
Another Emirates flight catches my eye. Same city. Different timing. As I focus on it, the board updates.
Now boarding.
There it is.
That flight will be gone sooner. Doors closing. Pushback, then taxi. I could be airborne before anyone realizes they’re searching the wrong gate. If I can get on it, I buy myself hours. Time to think. Time to figure out how they still know where I am. Time to work out who’s feeding my location to the Guild and why my bounty just got juicier instead of going quiet.
Time to end this before someone gets lucky.
The catch is Alejandro.
Our gate is in the opposite direction. I can’t peel off without him noticing. And if someoneclose to him is compromised, or if I read him wrong entirely—then keeping him with me is a liability I can’t afford.
This plan doesn’t include him.
I glance at him once, memorizing the angle of his jaw, the easy way he owns space like nothing could touch him. Then I turn back to the board, already mapping paths, crowd density, where I can lose him without raising alarms.
If I can slip away cleanly, I get ahead of this.
And if I don’t?
Then I stand still for twenty minutes and wait for death to walk up behind me with a boarding pass.
Hard no.
“Our gates this way.” Alejandro slides his hands into his pockets and turns to the right.
I keep my tone light, bored, normal. “Okay, I need to hit the bathroom,” I say. “I’ll meet you at the gate.”
He nods looking across the sea of faces, already assuming I’ll fall back in beside him in a minute like a well-behaved travel companion instead of a walking murder liability.
Perfect.
I slip into the women’s bathroom and pray for a second exit on the opposite side. Something that will dump me out somewhere away from Alejandro.
But airport bathrooms hate escape routes apparently. It’s all wide walkways, lines of mirror and sinks. On the other side is a valley with toilet stalls on each side.
No exit.
I stop in front of a mirror and wash my hands. The wig itches and I hope I get the chance to break someone’s neck with it before this is all over with. I need to blend in. I needto look like someone about to complain about airport prices and still buy the water anyway.
Decision made.
I shrug out of my leather jacket, roll it tight, and shove it into my backpack before settling the straps back onto my shoulders. The weight is familiar. Reassuring. Hopefully Alejandro won’t remember what color shirt I was wearing.
