The silence that follows is wrong. Heavy. Likesomething waiting to see which way I’ll break. Then a voice slides out of the dark.
“Easy.” Low. Calm. Close enough to be a problem.
I bolt sideways, diving through the half-lowered gate of an electronics store. Shelves sag under the weight of obsolete tech, screens cracked and hanging by cords. I shoulder through, knocking over a display. Tablets skid across the floor in a brittle explosion of glass.
Too slow. A hand grabs the back of my jacket and yanks hard.
I twist, already swinging the metal base in my hand. It connects with something solid. A grunt. The grip loosens just enough for me to wrench free and stumble forward.
Another man steps into my path. Maskless. Smiling.
“Cornered,” he says, like he’s proud of it.
Boots hit tile behind me. Two more. They spread fast, cutting off the exits without rushing. One wears a cracked animal mask. Another rolls his shoulders like he’s warming up.
Rivals. Not the ones steering me, the ones I saw up above.
My pulse spikes. I tighten my grip on the metal base and swing again, smashing it into a shelf. Plastic and wire rain down between us.
They don’t rush me. That’s new.
The one in front tilts his head, studying me. “You’re the one,” he says. “Been hearing about you.”
Hearing. They’re talking.
I back up, careful, eyes darting for a way out. My knee screams when I shift my weight. I ignore it and keep moving.
The animal-mask guy taps twice against a metal beam. From somewhere deeper in the store, another tap answers.
My stomach drops. They’re signaling.
The man behind me lunges. I pivot and swing, catching him across the shoulder. He swears and stumbles back, more surprised than hurt.
“Careful,” the first guy says. “She bites.”
I don’t wait for them to close in again. I sprint.
The exit sign flickers ahead, unreliable. I slam through it into a service hallway, narrow and ugly and perfect for getting caught. Pipes run low overhead. The floor slopes just enough to fuck with my balance.
Footsteps thunder behind me now. Closer.
I glance back once and see the animal mask gaining, confident. He knows I’m hurt. He knows time’s on his side.
I veer hard into a side alcove and drop low, sliding across filthy tile. He overshoots, boots skidding as he tries to stop. I roll to my feet and bolt the other direction, adrenaline drowning out the pain.
A voice shouts behind me. Another answers from somewhere ahead. They’re boxing me in.
I tear through a broken door and nearly slam into a wall of glass. I pivot at the last second and dive through a gap between kiosks, knocking over racks of phone cases and chargers. Plastic explodes across the floor, tangling underfoot.
My knee buckles. I catch myself on the counter, chest slamming into it, breath ripping out of me. A hand clamps around my wrist.
Strong. Too strong.
I jerk hard. Fingers tighten, unyielding. Heat floods my body in a sudden, traitorous rush, not fear, not pain. Awareness. Proximity. Control.
I twist and drive my knee up, catching him in the thigh. He grunts but doesn’t let go.
“Got you,” he says, pleased.
