CHAPTER : THE GHOST IN THE CROWD
The sky above the city was an iron grey, clouds rolling thick like the breath of giants. The streets below were bustling with life vendors crying out in hoarse voices, buses honking through traffic, and people weaving in every direction like a living maze. Somewhere in that chaos, a small figure darted between carts and shadows, her footsteps light, quick, and deliberate.
'Eleanor.'
The three figures chasing her weren't amateurs. Dressed in unmarked gear, they moved with purpose, scanning, tracking, predicting. They weren't loud, but every step they took shook the air with tension. This was no ordinary chase.
"She's heading south. She's fast, cut her off before she hits the open market!" barked Swifty, the one in front. Tall and lean with piercing grey eyes that shimmered faintly. His sixth sense had activated minutes ago, and he could feel her trail like heat rising from pavement.
Behind him, Zara cursed under her breath. Her boots barely touched the ground, her speed was enhanced beyond human, and yet....
"She's outpacing me," she growled. "A damn twelve-year-old. I swear if I catch her, I'm shaving her head bald myself."
The third, Rik, lagged behind, eyes scanning rooftops and corners. He wasn't the fastest, but he had a memory for patterns, for routes, for tricks kids like Eleanor might pull. But this wasn't just any kid.
"She knows what she's doing," he muttered. "It's not random she's trained."
'How can a ghost best a professional'?
They didn't say it out loud, but all three of them knew this wasn't a wild goose chase. This was a test. And they were failing.
***
Eleanor's lungs burned, but her mind was calm. Her heart wasn't racing in panic it was working like an engine, calculating. She ducked beneath a fruit stand, snatched a scarf from a rail, and wrapped it over her head in one fluid motion. With a sharp pivot, she turned left into a crowd of tourists.
The moment she mixed in, her pace slowed. Her posture shifted. She was just another kid now, trailing behind a group of sightseers snapping pictures.
Behind her, Swifty skidded to a halt, his sixth sense blinking out like a dying signal. He cursed loudly.
"Lost her again."
Zara arrived seconds later, panting not from exhaustion, but frustration. She looked around with sharp, angry eyes.
"She vanished," she hissed. "Again."
Rik joined them, scanning every face in the market, but it was no use.
"She's good. Scarily good," he muttered.
"She's twelve!" Zara snapped. "Twelve! I was outpacing guards twice my size at twelve. She shouldn't be able to vanish like that not from us."
The crowd moved around them like ants flowing past rocks. Somewhere in that tide, Eleanor was gone.
Swifty exhaled. "Either we're slipping, or she's something else entirely."
***
Across the street, a sleek black minivan sat idling in the shade, tinted windows concealing the lone occupant inside. A man in a dark suit sat comfortably, a camera lens still hot in his hands. On his lap, a tablet flickered with high-resolution images—freeze-frames of Eleanor in mid-run, cloaked in a scarf, turning into the crowd.
He smirked.
Tapping his earpiece, he spoke calmly: "Tell boss… we found his daughter. She's alive...and kicking."
The man in the van leaned back in his seat, eyes still on the disappearing crowd through the windshield. The corners of his lips twitched slightly, not quite a smile more like recognition. Like someone who'd just spotted an old, clever trick he hadn't seen in years.
He swiped to the next photo. Eleanor, mid-turn, a flicker of something dangerous in her eyes. Not fear. Not confusion. Focus.
He pulled out a sleek phone and dialed.
"It's done," he said simply.
The voice on the other end crackled. "Details."
"She ditched the tail. All three of them. Slipped through without breaking a sweat. That girl's not just alive she's trained."
There was silence. Then: "You're sure it's her?"
"Same face as the photo. Same birthmark on the jaw. Same eyes. There's no doubt."
The voice hesitated before speaking again. "Secure the area. Keep watch. Don't approach her yet. We'll move when the time is right."
"Copy that."
He hung up.