The neon sign flickered above the storefront, casting a blood-red glow over the sidewalk. Mara adjusted her black beret, her fingers brushing the cold steel of the revolver tucked into her waistband. The air reeked of fried onions and desperation. She’d waited three hours for this moment, her boots caked in mud from the storm that had swept through the city hours ago. The door creaked open before she could knock. A man in a rumpled suit stood in the threshold, his face pale under the harsh fluorescent lights.
“You’re late,” he said, his voice a rasp.
Mara stepped inside, her eyes scanning the cramped office. Stacks of paper cluttered every surface, and the hum of a broken air conditioner filled the silence. The man gestured to a leather chair across from his desk. She sat, her back straight, hands resting on the armrests. The man leaned forward, his fingers steepled.
“The files are in the safe,” he said. “But I need something from you first.” His gaze flicked to her belt. “That gun’s not for show, is it?”
Mara didn’t flinch. “I don’t do deals without guarantees.”
The man smiled, revealing a gap between his front teeth. “You’re here because you need what’s in that safe. And I need someone who knows how to handle a weapon.” He reached into a drawer and pulled out a folder, sliding it across the desk. “This is what you’re after. But before you take it, I want a favor.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “There’s a woman in the city. She’s got something that belongs to me. Find her. Bring her to me. And the files are yours.”
Mara opened the folder, her breath catching. The documents were real—proof of illegal transactions, names, dates, locations. She closed it and met his eyes. “What’s her name?”
“Lena Voss,” he said. “She’s a journalist. And she’s hiding in plain sight.”
—
The rain had stopped by the time Mara left the office, but the streets were still slick with water. She walked past shuttered shops and flickering streetlights, her mind racing. Lena Voss. The name meant nothing to her, but the man’s urgency was clear. She pulled out her phone, typing a message to her contact in the city’s underground network. A reply came within minutes: “Voss is at the Black Swan Café. 8 PM.”
The café was dimly lit, its walls covered in peeling posters of forgotten rock bands. Mara pushed through the door, the bell above it jingling. The air smelled of coffee and cigarette smoke. She scanned the room until her eyes landed on a woman sitting alone at the far end. Lena Voss. She was young, maybe in her early thirties, her dark hair pulled into a messy bun. Her fingers tapped nervously on the table as she stared at her phone.
Mara approached, her boots echoing on the wooden floor. “Lena Voss?” she asked, her voice steady.
The woman looked up, her eyes wide. “Who are you?”
“A friend,” Mara said, sliding into the chair across from her. “You’ve been looking for something. A file. A name. I know where it is.”
Lena’s expression shifted, a mix of fear and curiosity. “Who are you working for?”
“Nobody,” Mara said. “I’m here because I need what’s in that file too. But I can’t get it without your help.” She leaned in, lowering her voice. “There’s a man who wants you dead. And I’m not going to let that happen.”
Lena stared at her, then slowly nodded. “What do you need?”
“Information,” Mara said. “About the files. Who else is involved. And why they’re so important.”
—
The meeting took longer than expected. Lena revealed fragments of the truth—names, locations, a web of connections that stretched across the city. Mara listened, her mind piecing together the puzzle. The files were more than just evidence; they were a weapon, and someone was willing to kill to keep them hidden.
As they left the café, the rain began again, heavier this time. Lena walked beside her, her steps quick, her eyes scanning the streets. “You think they’re following us?” she asked.
“They always are,” Mara said. “But we’re ahead of them. For now.”
They reached a narrow alley, the walls lined with graffiti and the smell of damp concrete. Mara pulled Lena into the shadows, her hand on the revolver. A car passed by, its headlights cutting through the rain. Then another. And another.
“We need to move,” Mara said. “Now.”
They ran, their feet pounding against the wet pavement. The city blurred around them, a cacophony of sounds and smells. Mara’s mind was sharp, focused. She could feel the weight of the revolver in her hand, the tension in her muscles. This was what she did—what she had always done.
They reached a subway entrance, the stairs leading down into darkness. Lena hesitated. “What if they’re waiting for us?”
“Then we take them by surprise,” Mara said. “Come on.”
They descended into the underground, the sound of the city fading behind them. The air was cooler here, the walls damp. Mara led Lena through the tunnels, her instincts guiding her. She knew these paths—every shortcut, every blind spot.
Finally, they emerged in a quiet station, its lights flickering. Lena sank onto a bench, her breath ragged. “You saved my life,” she said.
“I didn’t save you,” Mara said. “I just gave you a chance.”
—
The next day, Mara returned to the office, the folder clutched in her hand. The man was waiting, his expression unreadable. “You found her,” he said.
“She’s safe,” Mara said. “But I need to know why this file matters so much.”
The man’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t want to know,” he said. “Some secrets are better left buried.”
“Then why go through all this?” Mara asked. “Why kill for it?”
The man stood, his movements slow. “Because power is the only thing that matters. And this file… it’s the key to everything.”
Mara stepped closer, her voice steady. “Then I’m not leaving without it.”
The man sighed, almost tired. “You’re like her,” he said. “Always chasing something you don’t understand.”
“Maybe,” Mara said. “But I’m not afraid of what I find.”
The man turned away, his hand drifting to the safe. He hesitated, then pulled it open. Inside were more files, stacks of them. Mara reached for one, her fingers brushing the edge.
“You should go,” the man said. “Before it’s too late.”
Mara didn’t move. She knew this was only the beginning. The city was a web of secrets, and she was just one thread in it. But she would follow where it led, no matter where it took her.
—
The rain had stopped again by the time Mara left the office, but the city felt different now. The streets were quieter, the air lighter. She walked through the downtown area, her mind still racing. Lena was safe, for now. The files were in her hands. But what came next?
She passed a small park, its benches empty except for an old man reading a newspaper. He looked up as she passed, his eyes sharp. Mara didn’t stop. She had too much to think about.
The city was vast, full of possibilities. And Mara knew one thing for certain—she wasn’t done yet.
