The back alley behind the diner smelled of rain and diesel. The ground was slick, the early sun spilling weak gold across puddles that mirrored the empty sky. I could still hear the faint hum of the diner’s neon sign, but we were already half-running, hearts thundering, breath clouding in the cold air.
Adrian’s hand gripped mine tightly, his palm warm against my trembling fingers. His limp had worsened; every few steps, I felt him falter, but he didn’t slow down. He couldn’t.
When we reached the end of the street, he pulled me into the shadow of an abandoned warehouse, chest heaving. “He wasn’t Daniel,” Adrian said quietly, “but he was one of his men.”
I leaned against the wall, my pulse still racing. “You’re sure?”
He nodded grimly. “I recognized the tattoo on his wrist. Daniel’s secu
