Page 42 of Brick's Retribution

It’s better to maintain some distance, approach carefully.

"The bus station," I decide. "Central location, easy to blend in."

Carlos nods, driving through increasingly dense traffic.

The city is waking up around us—vendors setting up stalls, commuters heading to work, children walking to school.

Normal life continuing even with the danger that follows us. I guess that’s how it is every single day.

We reach the bus station, a massive complex.

It’s perfect for our needs—busy enough to hide in, with multiple exit routes if needed.

"This is where we part ways," I tell Carlos, handing him the promised payment. "Thank you for the ride."

"De nada," he replies, pocketing the bills. "Stay safe, both of you."

We gather our belongings and step out into the morning heat.

The bus station is already bustling with activity—travelers, vendors, taxi drivers competing for fares.

We blend into the crowd, just two more people in a city of millions.

"Now what?" Brick asks.

I pull out my phone, checking for messages.

Nothing from my father, which means either he's maintaining radio silence or something's happened to him.

The thought sends a chill down my spine.

"Now we contact Amara," I say. "Let her know we're here."

But as I start to dial, I notice we're being watched.

A man in a business suit, standing by the taxi stand, his attention focused on us so hard that he doesn’t dare look away.

When our eyes meet, he reaches for something inside his jacket.

"Brick," I say quietly, not taking my eyes off the man. "We've got company."

He follows my gaze, instantly alert. "How many?"

"One that I can see. Probably more."

The man is moving now, crossing the busy plaza toward us.

I scan for escape routes, but the crowd that seemed like protection moments ago now threatens to trap us.

"This way," Brick says, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the nearest building.

We move quickly but not frantically, trying to avoid drawing attention while putting distance between us and our pursuer.

Behind us, I can hear the man speaking into a radio—calling for backup, giving our location.

"There." I point to a narrow alley between buildings. "We can lose them in the maze."

We duck into the alley, pressing ourselves against the wall as footsteps pound past the entrance.

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