Was it freedom? Or a risky situation?

She didn’t have the answer yet. But as she adjusted her backpack strap and ducked into an alley, she quietly assured herself, "They’ll never catch me."

And she was talking about all of them. AD, Zayden, Anyone who was hunting her from the shadows. Zeynep slipped away into the hustle and bustle of Manhattan. Just a ghost. A shadow. A girl who knew how to stay hidden.

*******

Reyes’s place wasn’t really an office; it felt more like a secret command center tucked away under a ramen shop. The room was dimly lit by blue screens and cluttered with dusty filing cabinets. He stood there, hands on his hips, jaw clenched, taking in the scene.

"Got the passport template updated," his assistant said, barely looking up as she typed away. "Alias: Aria Solis. The Malaysian work permit is good for two years."

"Awesome," Reyes replied, his tone a bit sharp. "Print it out."

The printer whirred to life. A shiny new passport popped out, crisp and ready to go.

He grabbed it before the printer had even stopped shaking, flipped it open to check the details, and tossed it into a black duffel bag that also held: $6000 in cash, mostly in small bills, a Malaysian visa, a burner phone, a foldable knife, two SIM cards, a compact hoodie, and a small tracker jammer, not to track anyone else, but to block anyone trying to find Zeynep. Reyes zipped the bag up and threw it over his shoulder.

Just then, his partner, Nico, walked in. "She’s really worth all this trouble, huh?" Reyes paused in the doorway, keeping his voice calm. "She’s worth way more than this."

Nico smirked. "You sound a bit soft."

"I’m not soft," Reyes shot back. "I just don’t leave people behind."

Especially not Zeynep. She had fastened his coat, hid his face under a cap, and slipped out through the back tunnel. It took him about twenty minutes on foot to reach the old depot on 143rd. The place was completely silent. He checked around, making sure no one was watching, and pried open locker 18C, which creaked from age. He set the bag inside and added a quick handwritten note:

"Zey, take the phone. Call me once you’re out, R."

He closed the locker, locked it up, gave it a couple of taps as a little ritual, and faded back into the shadows. He’d kept his word. Now it was up to Zeynep to make it out safely.

*******

The black SUV came to a screeching halt when Zayden slammed on the brakes so hard that Leo had to brace himself against the dashboard to keep from flying forward.

"Z, chill out!" Leo shouted, but Zayden was already out of the car, not waiting around for a reply.

He stomped toward the booth, the same one Zeynep had used, his boots thudding loudly on the pavement. Leo hurried after him, glancing around as he went.

The booth door was slightly open, swinging a bit in the wind. Zayden stepped inside and stopped dead in his tracks. Zeynep was nowhere to be found. They were only ten minutes late, but it felt like an eternity with her missing. Just dead silence surrounded them.

Leo let out a slow breath, feeling the weight of the situation. "...She’s not here."

"No," Zayden muttered, his voice low and tense. "She was here. I can still smell her , " He cut himself off, clenching his jaw so tightly that it felt like he might crack a tooth.

Leo raised an eyebrow, trying to gauge his friend’s mood. "Z... you’re acting off."

Zayden ignored him, his eyes scanning the booth for anything out of the ordinary. He spotted a smudged fingerprint on the glass, a boot print facing the street, and a small drop of blood in the corner. His heart started racing.

"She hurt herself," he whispered, his mind racing with the possibilities.

"Or someone else hurt her," Leo chimed in, trying to sound casual but definitely sounding uneasy.

That pushed Zayden over the edge. He shoved the booth door hard, slamming it against the wall with a loud bang that echoed around them. His breathing became erratic, like he couldn’t get enough air.

Leo stepped in front of him, trying to calm him down. "Z. Stop. She’s alive."

"She RAN from me," Zayden snapped, his eyes blazing. "She ran from ME."

"Z," Leo warned, his voice firm.

"She reached out to someone," Zayden went on, pacing back and forth like a restless animal. "She used this booth to ask for help. She must have got in touch with someone."

He punched the side of the booth, leaving a dent in the metal.

Leo winced, shaking his head. "You’re gonna break your hand if you keep that up."

Zayden punched again. And again. Then again. Blood spattered across the glass. His knuckles split, skin tearing.

"Z! That’s enough!" Leo said, grabbing Zayden’s arm. "You’re not really thinking straight."

Zayden kept shaking, his eyes bloodshot and his face flushed with a mix of anger, fear, and something deeper that he wasn’t willing to name.

Leo watched him closely, realizing this wasn’t the usual Zayden, the icy leader or the master strategist. This was the same Zayden he’d seen years ago when his little sister had been rushed to the hospital, barely clinging to life.

Leo felt a knot twist in his stomach. "Z..." he said softly. "You really care about her.

Zayden didn’t say anything; he just stared at the ground as if he was scared of the truth. Then he punched the wall again, the hardest hit yet, pressing his bleeding hand against the surface, his head down.

"Why did she leave..." he mumbled. "Why from me?"

Leo placed a steady hand on his shoulder. "We’ll find her."

Zayden’s breath caught. "You swear?" His voice cracked in a way Leo had never heard before.

"Yes," Leo replied firmly. "We’ll bring her back."

Zayden finally looked up, his eyes fierce. "...Leo," he said quietly, "about that torn photo I gave you. Did you get anything from it?"