Miles slipped a generous amount of cash onto the table—enough to cover not only the shattered table but what it could've earned for weeks. The waitress blinked in surprise, but he was already at the door, pushing it open into the sunlight.
The city buzzed around him, corporate giants of glass and steel towering on all sides. He crossed the pavement casually, hands in his pockets, but then paused—his smile slow and knowing. With a small tilt of his head, he turned down a narrow alley nestled between the buildings.
Back here, the city's polish faded. It was quieter, the kind of place secrets whispered and rats ran freely. Leaning against the brick walls were the same suited men from the café, now stripped of their fake civility. One puffed on a cigarette, another chuckled crudely.
"Damn that brat," one muttered, shaking his head.
"Wait till he leaves. We'll deal with the girl after."
A voice drifted in—calm, cold, unmistakable.
"You don't look like corporate employees."