Kara stepped into the elevator first, turning to face the hall, a wall of black fabric and muscle between me and the doors. Eleanor came in last, pressing the button for the first floor. Boxed between them, my shoulder brushed Kara’s arm. Eleanor’s breath stirred a strand of my hair, deliberate or not, I couldn’t tell. The only sound was the groan of the cables when the elevator moved. Both women kept their eyes on the seam where the doors met, posture sharp, leaving me nowhere to go but still.
The doors opened to the bright reception area. Kara cut to the right, checking the hallway before nodding to Eleanor, who guided me forward, her firm hand on my elbow. At the side door, Kara stepped outside first. I raised an eyebrow at Eleanor, who ignored me.
When Kara returned a moment later, she nodded and Eleanor propelled me forward again. Out the doors, down the sidewalk past parked cars. The smell of burnt rubber and heat filled the air, and I shivered. My poor car.
We stopped alongside a dark SUV and Kara moved to the driver’s side, crouching to glance underneath. Eleanor stood angled toward me, her eyes moving in every direction at once.
“Inside,” Kara said, unlocking the rear door.
The solid click of the lock sounded louder than it should have. I slid in, the leather cool against my legs, and the door shut with a final, heavy thud. Kara started the engine while Eleanor adjusted her side mirror. I pulled the belt across my chest until it locked in place.
The SUV pulled out into traffic and we drove slowly past the few police cars still gathered at the entrance of the underground garage. I stared at the cafe across the street, wondering if Dom was watching.
The silence stretched until Eleanor pressed a button on the cord at her collar. “Moving out now,” she said into the mic. “On our way to the rendezvous point.”
I leaned forward slightly. “Where are we going?”
She lifted a finger without looking back, finished her transmission, then touched the button again. “Copy,” she said, and let the line go quiet.
Finally, she turned her head toward me. “Your apartment. You’ll need to pack.”
“Pack? To go where?”
Neither of them answered. Sunlight strobed across the dash as we moved through the city streets. The familiar streets felt different, as if I were watching them on television.
Kara caught my eye in the rearview mirror. “Don’t worry, Ms. Barrett. It will be fine.”
I looked to Eleanor. She met my gaze, the corner of her mouth tipping into a faint smile. “We’ll keep you safe,” she said, and winked.
It didn’t make me feel any better.
The tall blonde woman drove with both hands on the wheel, her posture rigid and her gaze moving between the road, the side mirrors, and the rearview. Eleanor angled herself slightly toward her window, following the sidewalks and intersections as we passed.
Kara spoke into her mic. “Unit one, passing Commerce and Fifth.” Her voice was low, almost flat. She released the button without glancing away from the street ahead.
I shifted my focus to the people outside: two women with shopping bags, a man leaning into a food truck window, a courier weaving through traffic on a bike. Ordinary moments, none of them looking our way.
The hum of the engine filled the space between the clipped exchanges over comms. I tried to track what they were watching, but I couldn’t narrow it down.They seemed to be watching it all: doorways, alleys, parked cars, rooftops. Places I’d never given a second thought.
We stopped at a red light near the park. A bus idled beside us, its side plastered with a law firm ad. Kara’s gaze swept the driver, then the mirrors, then forward again. Eleanor scanned the crosswalk until the light changed.
I laced my fingers in my lap. I’d taken this route countless times, but never like this. Every turn they made felt calculated, as if each street had been chosen to control the angles, the traffic, the view behind us.
Kara eased the SUV to the curb half a block from my building. She stepped out without a word.
“This is a nice neighborhood,” I said. “It’s not a war zone.”
“Paranoia keeps people alive,” Eleanor said, still looking forward. “The Bellantes have reach. They’ve had people in place for years. That doesn’t go away.”
I shook my head. “I’m not worth that much trouble.”
Her mouth pressed in a thin line, but she didn’t argue.
Through the glass, I watched the way Kara moved. Her gaze didn’t sweep so much as settle. One pause at the awning, another at the alley mouth, the faintest tilt of her head toward a second-floor window across the street. The man with the takeout bag came into view, and Kara’s weight shifted almost imperceptibly, her free hand loose at her side. Only when the man turned the corner did Kara move again, stepping back so the front door framed her in shadow.
When she nodded, Eleanor unbuckled. “Come on. We want to get inside fast.”
I stepped out. The late-day air carried the smell of fried food from the corner stand. Eleanor kept pace on my right, her shoulder just ahead of mine.
