Breaking out of the mall and into fresh air, eases the unsteadiness I felt inside it. I don’t care what anyone thinks or how I sound because of it.
Someone is watching. I’m absolutely certain.
And even though I try to bury the thought, my gut’s screaming the culprit’s name.
Colter Crawford.
Chapter Fifteen
Colter
“He’s passing through the Bleed,” Fenrir speaks into my earpiece. “Heading west out of the city.”
The Bleed.
Midnite City’s diseased underbelly. A shanty village that sprawls around the city’s boundary, constructed on the hopes, dreams, and failures of those who reside within it.
“We have one chance at this,” I say, shifting down a gear on my bike and cranking the throttle to speed up. “We’re not goingto miss it.”
To enter Midnite City, the Sprawl, one must pass through the Bleed. When you do, you see the chaos swirling inside. You feel the inhabitants’ anguish before you reach the prosperity of the city. The Bleed is enveloped in a thin haze of the city’s eternal glow. Muted and dull like its inhabitants.
Faces peer at me through blackened windows, as I pass. They glare at me from alleyways. I scoff as I pass them by. They came here en masse, searching for salvation. Praying that they may find their peace beyond the pearly gates.
But there is no peace in Midnite City.
Only a sinner’s paradise.
“I’ve taken control of the car’s onboard computer,” Iniko says. “Give the word and I’ll cut the engine.”
“Wait.”
Timing is everything. If we act too quickly, my target’s security detail will have time to react. If they intercept us in the middle of the act, it will cause a bigger problem than I want to face. Worse still, killing his engine in the middle of the Bleed could see him fall victim to one of the many unhappy residents.
What they wouldn’t give for a chance at raising a corporate head on their pikes. It would be a desperate cry for sympathy from the monsters who abandoned them.
“Two minutes out,” Fenrir says. “He’s taking it leisurely.”
“His mistress?” I ask, barreling past a group of ne’er-do-wells, sucking down whiskey shots from a brown paper bag.
“Everything we’ve got says he’s alone,” Fenrir confirms.
“She’s at the motel? Is he heading there? I need answers.”
“Surveillance footage suggests she’s there,” Fenrir adds. “They caught her slipping into room thirty-three twenty minutes ago.”
“Then we’re good to go. Count to ten, Iniko, then work your magic,” I say, pressing a finger to the side of my helmet to kill any further communication.
My team assists in my operations, but I don’t allow them any more than this taste of it. It’d put their lives at risk if they knew my position behind the Veil. Instead, I let them believe whatever they want to. Stories of the Crawfords being smugglers, drug runners, or arms dealers.
We are, in fact, all of those, but we’re also so much more.
I count the numbers down, alongside Iniko, as Maxwell Henderson’s car comes into view.
On the count of six, I shift gears once more to gather as much speed as I can. At four, I latch onto the brake handle, and my motorcycle comes to a screeching halt. At one, I discard my bike and helmet and slip into the backseat of Maxwell’s Bentley. The doors have been unlocked by the same magic Iniko used to kill the engine. It roars tolife again a moment later, but my pistol is already pressed against Maxwell’s head.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doi—“ Maxwell starts, but falls silent as he stares into the rearview mirror and sees my mask staring back.
“Drive,” I say. I don’t need to tell him where to go. A visit from me could only mean one place.
