⌐╦ᡁ᠊╾━
The early morning air is still sharp carrying the scent of metallic blood, dust, concrete and smoke from the warehouse. The city wakes around us- cars humming, people moving, footsteps echoing against concrete.
We already got her a new phone, a replacement I bought from a corner shop along the way. She's scrolling, absorbed, eyes flicking across the screen.
"What are you doing?" I ask, voice low. My gut tightens. "You better not be selling out our location."
She jumps slightly, looking up at me, a faint flush on her cheeks. "No! I... I'm just reading."
I raise an eyebrow. "Reading?"
She shrugs, biting her lip. "Yeah. Books. Stories. Anything that can distract me from... this."
"You're reading while we're running for our lives?" I mutter, half teasing, half incredulous.
"Yeah... I like it. It helps me... think. Helps me not panic."
I nod slowly, studying her. "Whatever keeps you from killing us both I guess."
I pull my phone from my pocket, the one I scavenged after the Syndicate ambush. Clean, untraceable, completely ours.
Her eyes go wide. "Wait... so you get to have your old phone and I can't?"
Is she stupid?
"Are you stupid?" I snap. "Mine's dead silent. Untraceable. Your little device yesterday? That's why they found us. You're practically laying down breadcrumbs like Hansel and Gretel for them to find."
Her lip trembles, fidgeting with the hem of her jacket, eyes darting to the street.
I let a second pass, then add, voice slightly softer, "We can get you books when it's safe. Not these downloads you've been fiddling with- every app, every file, even a library app can be traced."
She nods, sliding her hands into her pockets, and looking at the streets beside us. I pull out the phone from my pouch. Just a glance is enough.
Target confirmed... The Sinclair girl.
I freeze, recognising the last name.
Sinclair.
Her last name is Sinclair.
I stop walking. Lowering my voice, I say, "Your first name?" Not a demand, just confirmation.
She freezes mid-step, a small laugh escaping her. "I thought we were keeping that a secret," she says.
Her eyes dart up to mine, and for a heartbeat as if she realises how inappropriate her little joke was in the middle of all this. Her smile falters, replaced by a whisper, almost too quiet to hear: "Lila."
"Lila," I repeat. Relief, disbelief, maybe a flicker of wonder crosses her face.
My mind turns over the risks, the rules, the lessons of missions gone wrong. Attachments are dangerous. Trust is a weapon- and a liability. And yet... something anchors to her.
I exhale slowly. "My name... is Dante."
I regret it immediately as her eyes widen. Relief, disbelief, maybe even a fragile spark of trust.
We walk in silence as the city hums around us. I let her name hang in the air.
Somewhere in the crowd, eyes are still watching.