The city had already swallowed the sun whole, shadows pooling in the alleys like spilled oil. He sprinted down the crumbling sidewalk, lungs burning, boots hitting the pavement in staccato beats of desperation. Behind him, sharp footsteps echoed—closer than they should be. The deal had gone to hell, a setup from the start. Now the rival gang wanted him dead, and they weren’t being subtle about it.

His side ached from where he'd been clipped by a bullet. He didn’t dare slow down.

The narrow street opened to a row of old villas, once pristine, now slightly decayed under the weight of forgotten wealth. Ivy clawed up their walls like nature trying to take back what was hers. He darted past the iron gate of one, his fingers brushing its cold bars as he moved. The wind was picking up, sweeping dry leaves along the curb like whispers.

And then—something.

A flash of pale light flickered on his shoulder.

It stopped him. Instinct told him to keep running, but the glint—small, precise—made him turn his head just enough. That’s when he saw it.

A figure, almost upon him, a blade glinting in the dimness, just inches from his neck.

He dropped low, twisting his body, and slammed his elbow into the man’s ribs. A grunt escaped the attacker, followed by a slash that narrowly missed his face. They struggled briefly in the dark, the only sound the ragged gasps of breath and the scuffle of shoes on stone. He managed to grab the man's wrist, twisting it until the blade dropped, then delivered a brutal punch to the face, and another, until the man lay slumped against the wall, unmoving.

Blood pounded in his ears.

He straightened, breath coming fast. His eyes scanned the street. No one else, for now. But they’d be coming.

And then he remembered.

The light.

His gaze turned back toward the villa. Toward the balcony on the second floor. Curtains stirred in the breeze, soft golden light spilling through the tall windows.

And there she was.

A woman sat in a wheelchair, framed by the warm light of the room behind her. Her long, dark hair flowed over her shoulders, catching the glow like silk. A black leather jacket clung to her shoulders, and a delicate white dress curled over her knees. She had one hand resting on the metal arm of her chair, the other curled casually in her lap. Despite everything—despite the chaos and blood and the alley behind him—she looked calm.

More than calm.

Amused.

Their eyes met.

She tilted her head just slightly and smiled.

And then—she winked.

He stood frozen for a heartbeat, disoriented. That flash of light—it must have come from her window. Maybe a glass. A picture frame. A mirror. Whatever it was, she had timed it. Deliberately. She had seen everything.

And saved his life.