Smoke Beneath the Lamp

The deal was made, and it tasted like ashes in the mouth. Their contact took the carefully selected portion of data and, in exchange, provided them with safe passage out of the city. Jessica still hated it—giving away anything felt like losing control—but for now, it was the best they could do.

As they stepped out of the warehouse into the cold, rain-slicked streets, Jessica’s instincts prickled. Something wasn’t right. The city hummed with life around them, but she felt the weight of unseen eyes pressing against her.

She cast a glance down the street, and that’s when she saw him.

A man stood beneath the dim glow of a streetlamp, dressed in a dark coat, his face obscured by the smoke curling from a half-lit cigarette. He wasn’t looking at them directly. The gaze didn’t need to be direct. The best predators never stared at their prey—they waited until you walked into the net yourself.

Her breath hitched. There was something about him, something that made every nerve in her body scream that he wasn’t just another shadow in the night. She’d felt this once before, years ago. A presence just like this. The quiet gravity of a man who never needed to raise his voice to own the room. He exuded control, the quiet kind that made the most dangerous men in the world seem unassuming.

Jessica’s fingers twitched toward her concealed weapon. Was he Vanguard? Was he something worse?

Before she could decide whether to act, the man took one last drag of his cigarette, dropped it to the pavement, and crushed it beneath his heel. Then, without a word, he turned and disappeared into the alleyway beyond the streetlamp’s glow.

Leanna followed her gaze. "Jess? What is it?"

J essica’s stare lingered on the empty space beneath the streetlamp like it might answer her. “Ghosts,”' she muttered. “Just ghosts.” Then after a long pause, she added, "Let’s get the hell out of here."

As they made their way toward their transport, Olivia pulled her coat tighter around herself. "That didn’t feel like a win."

Jessica exhaled. "That’s because it wasn’t."

Some wars were fought in blood. The worst ones were fought in memory.