“Excuse me!” Jessie says, stopping short.

  “The name is Johnny. But wait, let me get things straight. Who exactly are you?” the woman raises an eyebrow, her gaze sweeping over Jessie with practiced suspicion.

  “Just tell me what you know. I’ll pay more,” Jessie counters, her voice flat.

  “No deal, girl. I’m not selling out Johnny unless you tell me who the hell you are.”

  Jessie pauses, a lie forming behind her eyes. “Okay… I need his help. An enemy gang is hunting me. I heard rumors of his enigmatic strength. I want him as a shield.”

  “Nah. Johnny doesn’t do bodyguard jobs. He—”

  “He’ll say that himself, not you,” Jessie cuts in. “Just tell me where to find him.”

  The woman sighs. “The truth is… Johnny is a private man. Ghost-quiet. No one knows his current coordinates. But I can give you a lead. You know Silas?”

  “Of course.”

  “Silas abducted a girl for his trafficking ring—his own niece. If you want Johnny, find Silas first. Or better yet, track Silas's movements. You’ll likely cross paths with him.”

  Jessie utters a hasty thanks, already turning to depart.

  The woman springs forward, hot on her heels. “Wait! Mind telling me your name, at least?”

  “Name’s Jes—Rue. Thanks for the intel.” Jessie doesn't look back. She pulls the door open and vanishes into the street.

  I’ve got the lead, Jessie thinks, her pace quickening. But Silas? That’s bad news. Should I relay this to the Boss? No. I need to find the tracks myself first.

  She rounds a corner at a sprint.

  CRASH.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Her head collides with a solid chest. Disorientation washes over her as she stumbles back, hand clutching her forehead. She blinks her eyes, focusing on the stranger’s jacket. A blue Eagle crest.

  "Blue Whale gang. Not good."

  She pivots to make a quick exit, but a calloused hand clamps around her wrist.

  “Where do you think you’re going, woman?”

  Jessie yank her arm free, walking faster, he snags the fabric of her coat and pulls her back toward him.

  Jessie doesn't hesitate. She throws a fist. He ducks, reaching to grapple her, but she’s fluid. She slips through his reach and launches a second strike. Her knuckles meet his cheek. In the same motion, a long, surgical needle slides from her sleeve and drives deep into his neck.

  The man’s eyes roll back. He slumps, hitting the pavement like a sack of grain.

  Within seconds, a woman wearing the same Blue Whale crest rounds the corner.

  Jessie doesn't wait for a greeting; she runs.

  “Hey! Hey!” the woman barks. She drops to her knees. “Solomon! Solomon! Please don’t die on me!” Tears track through the dust on her face.

  The woman lets out a piercing, jagged scream, a sound of pure, soul-blazing grief.

  Jessie grins, her boots pounding the asphalt. Thank God she’s staying with him. She isn't following.

  She’s wrong.

  Footsteps begin to pound behind her. The woman is pursuing, the distance closing too fast.

  “The Whale is wounded! The Whale is wounded!” the woman shrieks. Her voice echoes through the narrow neighborhood like a siren.

  The street transforms.

  Men spill from doorways and alleys, their eyes locking onto the intruder. The civilian population vanishes. Windows slam shut. Heavy bolts slide into place. Chickens squawk and scatter in a cloud of feathers as Jessie hurtles through an alleyway.

  She glances over her shoulder. The pupils of her pursuers are relentless, dilated with the hunt. Four men block the alley's exit, baseball bats held at the ready.

  Jessie doesn't slow down. She plants a foot on a dumpster, vaults into the air, and catches the edge of a low roof. Doves scatter, their wings beating wildly against the air as she scrambles over the tiles and drops into the next alley.

  She isn't avoiding a fight; she’s avoiding a mob. Her objective is too vital to waste in a street brawl.

  Suddenly, shadows move.

  A living wall of men emerges, trapping her. The circle tightens—a noose of steel and muscle. Jessie spins, scanning for a gap, a loose brick, anything.

  From the center of the crowd, a figure steps forward.

  “Never thought I’d see you again, Flash Night Jessie…”

  He grins, the expression splitting his face wide. His eyes burn with predatory joy.

  “Today is my lucky day.”

  “Mike…” Her voice barely carries the name.

  Jessie scans the perimeter. Mike closes in, the crowd parting for him.

  “What brought you to my town, hmmm?” He draws a blade, the steel catching the sunlight.

  “I’ve been waiting to carve you open with this.”

  The group marches forward. Weapons leveled.

  A blur of malice and murderous intent.