My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out without slowing down .
Rune:Griffin.
Just my name.
My thumb hovered over the keyboard. I wanted to typeI'm okayorTrust meorStay safe. Something that acknowledged what he was asking without saying it out loud.
Instead:
Griffin:Working
The word looked cold on the screen. Professional. An example of the distance that could protect us both and hurt, anyway.
I hit send. Pocketed the phone before I could see whether he responded.
The corridor branched. I chose left; the air was cooler that way. Rain smell. Wet metal.
I pushed through another door and stepped outside.
Rain hit my face. Cold needles. My damp coat weighed more. The street beyond the loading bay glistened under sodium lights.
Seattle.
Traffic hissed in the distance. A siren far away. Water dripping from the gutters.
Movement at the far end of the alley—a figure crossing the gap between buildings. Dark coat. Precise posture.
Enough to follow.
I moved fast. Too fast. My foot slipped on wet concrete, and I caught myself, kept going. Pulse hammering.
The alley narrowed. The service gate stood open at the end, barely wide enough to pass through.
Too convenient.
He wanted me to keep going.
I did.
This was about more than protecting Rune. It was about my name. My capacity to do the work. Refusing to be moved like a chess piece and blamed for landing where they pushed me.
My radio crackled. Do-hyun's voice, low. "Griffin. Confirm your position."
I didn't stop. "Exterior service route. West side. Moving."
"Copy."
Eamon's voice followed. "We have you."
Good. Let them have me. Let there be a record this time.
The street opened ahead, rain-slicked and shining. Cars passed like indifferent animals. Light from the venue's side entrance spilled onto the pavement in a pale rectangle.
The figure ahead cut across the street without looking back.
I followed. Quick, controlled steps. Running would look panicked. Loss of control.
My radio crackled again.
