"I'm not going anywhere with you. You think I'll fall into your arms just because you're playing the hero? You work with the people who killed my brother. Your world, your schemes, your contracts… that's what destroyed him."
Damien tilted his head slightly. "Maya, I understand your anger. But you won't survive alone against Nexus Corp."
"I've been fine on my own my whole life. Thanks for the info on Tommy, really. But I'm not some puppet you can manipulate with sweet words and fifty-dollar bills."
She stood up abruptly, her chair screeching against the floor. A few café patrons looked up, but she ignored them.
"Maya, I'll have your belongings—your servers, your photos—delivered to a secure location. I'll send you the coordinates. But hear me: you're making the wrong choice."
"My choice is all I have left," she snapped. "And I choose not to be your pawn."
She turned on her heel and pushed through the café door, the crisp San Francisco air slapping her face. Outside, Valencia Street pulsed with its usual chaos—car horns, laughter, the smell of tacos drifting on the wind.
Inside, Damien set his espresso cup down, the liquid now lukewarm. He stared at the door Maya had just disappeared through.
"Cold," he murmured, more to himself than anyone else.
A woman approached his booth, dressed in a charcoal-gray suit, her blonde hair pulled into a flawless bun. She looked like a lawyer or a banker.
"Orders, sir?"
Damien tapped his fingers lightly on the table, his eyes still on the door. "Follow her. Report her movements. And make sure she stays alive… for now."
---
Maya descended into the 24th Street subway station, the hum of the crowd engulfing her.
She fiddled with her phone, an old rooted model she'd customized herself.
At a busy intersection, she pretended to wait for the walk signal. In one swift motion, she popped off the back of her phone, ripped out the battery, and dropped it into a trash can beside a hot dog stand.
She kept walking, crossed the street, and slipped into a graffiti-lined alley. There, she pulled out the SIM card, snapped it in two, and tossed it into a muddy pond in Dolores Park, where lazy ducks drifted across the water.
She picked up her pace, eyes scanning the area. In the reflection of a store window, she spotted two figures about thirty meters behind her. Men in sunglasses, walking with a confidence too calculated for regular pedestrians. They'd been tailing her since she left the subway.
Maya turned sharply into a narrow alley. She climbed onto a dumpster, vaulted over a wall, and landed in a back courtyard. Crouching behind a pile of boxes, she held her breath. The two men appeared at the mouth of the alley, slowing down, eyes scanning the surroundings. One gestured to the other, and they split up—one heading straight, the other moving toward the courtyard.
Maya slid her Taser into her palm and set it to maximum charge. She waited, motionless, until the first man passed in front of her, weapon drawn. In one fluid motion, she leapt up, jammed the Taser into his neck, and pulled the trigger. He collapsed in convulsions, his gun clattering to the ground.
The second man heard it and rushed into the courtyard, but Maya was ready. She rolled to the side, grabbed a wooden plank from the debris, and smashed it against his temple before he could react. He dropped like a rock, unconscious.
Breathing heavily, Maya knelt beside him. She rifled through his pockets and found a phone. Using the groggy man's thumbprint, she unlocked it and opened the messaging app. A recent message appeared:
[Follow her. Do not kill her. Orders from the boss.]
She stood, casting a final glance at the two unconscious men.
"You underestimated me," she whispered.