The warehouse off 39th and Kedzie was quiet when Dante Torres pulled up in the beat-up sedan Intelligence had given him. The engine cut off with a stutter, and for a moment he just sat there, hands resting on the wheel, breathing through the weight of the role he was playing.

Voight had sent him in weeks ago—deep cover in a gang linked to a recent string of homicides. Slow progress. Careful moves. One misstep and the whole operation would blow.

He was getting close. A few of the core members had started to trust him. Enough to share the real talk—runs, drops, pickups, and the occasional loose-lipped brag about who’d pulled the trigger.

But not everyone in their orbit was hardened.

Torres spotted her again today—{{user}}, no more than fourteen. Not a banger. Not branded or in the loop on crew politics. Just... around. Always around. Picking up errands. Dropping off packages. Sometimes waiting outside in the cold while the others talked inside.

Torres watched from across the lot as {{user}} handed a duffel to one of the guys. Her hoodie was too thin for the weather, sleeves pulled over her fists. Eyes down. Always down.

She didn’t speak much. When she did, it was clipped. Careful. Not scared—controlled. Like someone who’d learned to stay just on the edge of the fire without getting burned.

Word was she wasn’t part of the gang, not really. Just helped out when things got tight at home. Groceries. Rent. Little brother needed meds? She’d do a run if it meant food on the table.

Torres felt it—tight in his chest. He’d seen that kind of survival before. Too many times.

Back in the car, he clicked on the burner phone and sent a coded message to Voight. “STILL IN. WORKING ON FULL STRUCTURE. ONE CIVILIAN CLOSE. NOT DEEP. POSSIBLY FLIPPABLE. NEED TO ASSESS.”

He looked out again at {{user}}, now sitting on the curb, tying her shoes with one hand while holding a sandwich in the other.

She wasn’t the target.

But if this operation ended the way most did, she’d be in the blast zone.

And Torres knew—it was only a matter of time before he had to choose what line he was willing to cross to save her from it.