Morning crept in gray, settling heavy over the city. The children were still asleep, curled in bundles of blankets on the thin mattresses. Only Jun was awake, sitting near the wall with his knees pulled close. His eyes were sharp, restless, watching the door as if he expected someone to break it open.

  Lian moved quietly through the room, adjusting the straps of her shoulder holster, checking the blades she’d cleaned and sharpened. Her face was calm. Kai sat at the table with his laptop, wires running into a small signal booster he’d set up on the counter.

  “They moved quick,” Kai said softly. His voice didn’t disturb the children. “Last night’s mess didn’t disappear. Someone paid off the police and there’s no mention of kids anywhere. News reports say it’s a gang shootout.”

  Lian’s jaw tightened. “The kids vanished in their story.”

  Kai nodded. “Convenient for them. But they’ll look harder. We can’t stay.”

  Jun’s voice cut through the quiet. “Then where do we go?”

  Both siblings turned to him. His tone was sharper than before, more direct.

  Lian studied him. “You speak like you’re part of this.”

  Jun didn’t flinch. “I was there. I saw what they do. You can’t just sit here.”

  For a moment, silence stretched. Then Kai sighed, rubbing his temple. “He’s not wrong. We need supplies. Food, medicine, clothes for the kids. And cash.”

  Lian finished adjusting her holster, sliding a knife into her boot. “I’ll go.”

  “No,” Kai said. “Now is too visible. They’ve got lookouts everywhere now. If you walk alone with that face, someone will notice.”

  Lian’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Then you?”

  Kai looked at the laptop again, pulling up a map. He tapped a point near Mong Kok. “There’s a storage lockup. They belong to Lau’s crew. He’s small, low-level, but connected enough. Weapons, cash, fake IDs, drugs. We hit it, we solve our problems.”

  “But it’s gang territory,” Lian said flatly.

  Kai met her eyes. “Nothing new for us.”

  Jun leaned forward. “Take me.”

  Both siblings turned to him again. Lian’s expression sharpened, Kai’s softened.

  “No,” Lian said immediately.

  Jun’s jaw set. “I know the streets. I can help.”

  “You’ll stay,” she cut him off.

  Jun’s hands curled into fists, but he looked away, biting back his words.

  Kai closed the laptop. “We move tonight.”

  Night came heavy, pressing down over the city like smoke. Lian and Kai walked through it all, blending into the crowd. She wore a dark jacket, hood low, hands in pockets. He carried a messenger bag slung across his chest, the strap lined with wire cutters and lock picks hidden beneath the fabric.

  They didn’t speak as they moved, only small glances exchanged.

  The lockup was in a side street off Nathan Road, a building with corrugated shutters marked with peeling paint and graffiti. The alley smelled of fried oil and piss, the buzz of a neon sign overhead flickering faintly.

  Two men stood near the shutter, smoking, their eyes scanning the street. One had tattoos curling up his neck, the other chewed gum with his mouth open, a pistol tucked obvious in his waistband.

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  Lian’s gaze flicked to Kai. He nodded. They split without words, melting into shadows.

  Kai circled around the block, slipping into the back alley where the trash bins overflowed with rotting food. He crouched near a rusted door, pulling wires from his bag. His fingers moved steady, clipping into the alarm panel with practiced ease. Meanwhile, Lian moved straight toward the two men. She kept her pace casual, her hood low, steps silent even on wet pavement. When she was close enough, she lifted her head.

  The tattooed man squinted. “What you want—”

  The words cut short when her knife slid under his chin. His body jolted, then stilled.

  The second man reached for his pistol, but Lian twisted, grabbing his wrist and shoving the blade through his side. He gasped, the sound wet, his gum falling from his mouth. She pressed him against the shutter, hand over his lips, until his legs gave out.

  Both bodies slid to the ground, quiet.

  Kai appeared from the back, door open. He saw the blood, shook his head slightly. “Always the direct way.”

  Lian wiped her blade on the man’s jacket. “Cleanest way.”

  Inside, the lockup smelled of mold and gasoline. Metal shelves lined the walls, stacked with crates and bags. Weapons, bricks of cash wrapped tight, stacks of counterfeit IDs, packets of pills and powders.

  Kai whistled low. “Jackpot.”

  He moved quickly, pulling empty bags from his pack, filling them with bundles of cash and small weapons. Lian scanned the shelves, taking ammunition, a clean pistol, a few knives.

  Footsteps echoed suddenly from deeper inside.

  Lian froze, knife in hand. Kai glanced up at her.

  The voices grew closer.

  Lian moved fast, silent, sliding into the shadows between shelves. Kai crouched low behind a crate, his bag half-full.

  Two men appeared, carrying a box between them. One lit a cigarette, the flame bright for a second in the dim light.

  They saw the blood on the floor near the shutter.

  “Shit,” one muttered, setting the box down. He pulled a pistol free, eyes scanning.

  Lian stepped from the dark. Her blade caught the dim light just once before it sank into his throat. His partner turned, raising his gun, but Kai’s shot cracked loud, the sound slamming through the metal walls. The man dropped, smoke curling from Kai’s silencer.

  The echo hung for a moment, then faded.

  Kai’s breath was steady, though his hands trembled faintly before he tightened them around the pistol. “We need to move.”

  They packed fast, loading their bags until they were heavy with supplies. Lian slung one over her shoulder, Kai carried two, the straps biting into his skin.

  But as they reached the street, more voices rose. The gang had heard the shot.

  Figures poured into the alley, shouting, guns raised.

  Lian shoved Kai toward the crowd, their bodies weaving through panicked civilians spilling from food stalls.

  Lian ducked behind a parked car, firing back, her shots sharp, precise. Two men dropped, blood splattering.

  Kai grabbed her arm. “No time. Go.”

  They pushed through the crowd, blending, ducking into side streets, their bags heavy with cash and steel. Shouts chased them, but the city swallowed the sound, drowning it in traffic and voices.

  When they returned to the workshop, sweat streaked their faces, breath heavy. The children stirred awake as the door opened, their eyes wide.

  Jun was already on his feet, rushing forward. His gaze went to the bags, then to the blood on Lian’s sleeve.

  “You fought,” he said quietly.

  Lian met his eyes but said nothing. She dropped the bag on the table, the cash spilling open in neat bricks.

  Kai set the other bags down, pulling out food, medicine, clean clothes. The children gasped softly, eyes wide at the sight.

  Jun’s gaze stayed on Lian. “Teach me.”

  Her jaw tightened. She moved past him, setting a blade on the counter, wiping it clean.

  “Not now,” she said.

  Jun’s voice rose, sharp. “If I can’t fight, I’ll be taken again. You know it.”

  Kai looked between them, his eyes tired but calm. “Later, Jun.”

  Jun’s fists clenched, but he bit back his words. He stepped back, eyes burning, then turned away.

  The children crowded around the table, touching the food, the clothes, their faces shifting from fear to something softer.

  Lian finally sat, silent, her knife gleaming under the dim light.

  Kai leaned against the wall, watching the children with a faint exhaustion in his eyes.

  The workshop filled with the sounds of unpacking, cooking, soft laughter from the youngest.