Kínitos and Monty didn't stop running until they were six blocks away, ducking into an abandoned parking garage that reeked of piss and motor oil. They pressed their backs against a concrete pillar, both breathing hard.
Monty deactivated his suit first, the red light retracting back into his watch. Kínitos followed a second later, purple fading to nothing.
"Think we lost them?" Monty asked between breaths.
Kínitos peeked around the pillar, scanning the street outside. No movement. No shouts. Just the distant hum of traffic and the occasional pedestrian walking past, oblivious.
"For now," Kínitos said.
Thursday, 6:15 PM
The sun was starting to dip below the skyline when they made their way back toward The Stack. They kept to side streets, moving carefully, watching for any sign of the gang members from earlier.
The Stack loomed ahead—six stories of chaotic architecture, more subdued now in the early evening light. Music still pulsed from the lower floors, but it was quieter. The real crowds wouldn't arrive until after dark.
"We need to get a better look at those service entrances," Kínitos said, studying the building's eastern side. "Figure out the layout before tomorrow."
"And hope nobody recognizes us?" Monty said skeptically.
"We'll be quick. In and out."
They circled the building, staying in the shadows. The service entrance was exactly where the woman had said—a plain metal door tucked between a dumpster and a loading dock. A few workers in stained aprons stood nearby, smoking cigarettes and talking in low voices.
Kínitos pulled out his phone, taking a few photos of the entrance, the security camera mounted above it, the access panel next to the door.
"Keycard reader," Monty observed. "Good thing we've got that card she gave us."
"Assuming it still works by tomorrow." Kínitos zoomed in on the camera angle. "We'll need to move fast once we're inside. That camera's gonna catch us the second we swipe in."
"So we disable it first?"
"Or we just move fast enough that it doesn't matter." Kínitos pocketed his phone. "Let's check the other sides. See if there are alternative exits."
They moved around the building, cataloging every entrance, every window, every fire escape. The Stack was built like a fortress pretending to be a party venue—lots of ways in for paying customers, but all of them monitored. All of them controlled.
By the time they'd made a full circuit, the sun had nearly set.
"Alright," Monty said. "We've got the layout. Now what?"
Kínitos checked his watch. "We should check on the woman. Make sure she's okay after—"
His words died in his throat.
They'd rounded the corner onto her street. And even from half a block away, they could see it.
Her apartment door was wide open.
Not just open. Hanging open, like it had been kicked in. The frame was splintered, wood chunks scattered on the hallway floor visible from the street entrance.
Kínitos broke into a run.
"Wait—" Monty started, but he was already following.
They took the stairs two at a time, reaching the third floor in seconds. The hallway was empty, eerily quiet except for the muffled sound of a TV from a neighboring unit.
Kínitos stopped at her doorway, breathing hard.
The inside was destroyed.
Furniture overturned. Cushions slashed open, stuffing spilling onto the floor. Drawers pulled out and dumped, their contents scattered everywhere. The small kitchen table was flipped on its side, chairs broken into pieces.
But no woman. No body. No blood.
Just destruction.
"Fuck," Monty breathed, stepping inside carefully. Glass crunched under his boots—shattered picture frames, a broken lamp.
Kínitos moved through the apartment slowly, checking each room. The bedroom was the same—mattress torn apart, closet emptied, clothes thrown everywhere like someone had been searching for something.
Or sending a message.
"She's not here," Kínitos said quietly.
"You think they took her?" Monty asked, already knowing the answer.
Kínitos stared at the wreckage, his jaw tight.
"The guy we beat up. He must have told them about her. About how she helped us."
"Shit." Monty kicked at a broken chair leg.
"This is because of us." Said Monti scuffed at himself
"Yeah." Kínitos pulled out his phone, taking photos of the destruction. "It is."
"So what do we do?" Questioned Monti
Kínitos looked around the ruined apartment one more time—at the life torn apart, at the consequences of their actions written in overturned furniture and shattered glass.
"We finish the mission," he said finally. "And we find her."
"Jade's not gonna like us losing a civilian." Monti paced around looking for any clues.
"Then we don't tell Jade." Kínitos turned toward the door. "Come on. We need to move before someone calls this in."