Chapter 10
The heavy glass door of Maria’s diner swung shut behind Maya with a soft, metallic click, the brass bell ringing out a solitary, mournful note into the damp night air. She stepped back onto the slick asphalt of Fifth Street, the cool autumn breeze biting sharply against her cheekbones. The fog had rolled in thicker from the river, wrapping the streetlights in hazy, amber halos that distorted the edges of the abandoned storefronts and darkened alleyways.
She didn't head toward her apartment across town. Instead, she turned her boots toward the labyrinth of rusted loading docks and corrugated steel warehouses that made up the old textile mill district—the very property detailed in the stolen blueprints tucked inside her vest.
Shadows shifted against the brick wall ten yards ahead. Viktor stepped out from the gloom, his heavy leather jacket zipped to the chin, a wooden toothpick rolling leisurely between his teeth. He didn't look like a man who had just lost a street fight through his proxy, Marcus. He looked like a predator who had successfully cornered his quarry in a cul-de-sac. Two other men emerged silently from the flanking alleys, blocking off any retreat back toward the diner or the main boulevard. They were built like brick walls, wearing dark hoodies and carrying themselves with the heavy, unhesitating swagger of professional enforcers.
"You've got a lot of nerve, courier," Viktor said, his voice smooth, raspy, and entirely devoid of warmth. He spat the toothpick onto the wet pavement and reached into his pocket, pulling out a heavy steel switchblade with a practiced flick of his wrist. "You broke my boy’s ribs, ruined a perfectly good shakedown, and walked away with property that doesn't belong to you."
Maya stopped dead in her tracks, her posture squared, her hands resting easily at her sides. She didn't flinch at the glint of the knife reflecting the amber sodium glare. "Marcus was an idiot," Maya replied evenly, her voice cutting through the thick river fog like a razor. "And you're a fool if you think shaking down a teenager is going to protect your laundering operation from the feds."
Viktor’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. The casual demeanor vanished, replaced by the lethal focus of a man who realized his secrets were severely compromised. "So, you read the papers," Viktor hissed, taking a slow, measured step forward. "That makes you a liability we can't afford to let deliver packages tomorrow morning. Hand over the vest, walk away with your life, and maybe—just maybe—we won't have to visit the diner behind you."
May you like
The threat hung in the damp air like a physical blow. Viktor’s enforcers tensed, their boots shifting on the gravel as they prepared to rush her from both sides. But Maya’s face remained an absolute mask of cold indifference. She had survived the brutal mining towns of the northern rust belt before the courier companies even knew her name; a couple of street thugs with cheap blades were nothing more than a Tuesday morning commute.
"I don't negotiate with garbage," Maya whispered.
