Masuk
The yellow cab was parked at the curb, engine idling, its roof light dark.
Emily sat behind the wheel with one elbow resting on the door, fingers tapping lightly against the steering wheel in time with the music spilling from the radio. An old song. Slow. Familiar. The kind that made the city outside the windshield blur into lights and shadows instead of noise and chaos.
The sign was off.
She leaned back slightly, letting the seat cradle her shoulders, eyes half-lidded as the melody carried her somewhere softer. Somewhere quieter. For a moment, she could almost pretend she was just another woman in the city, killing time, listening to music, waiting for nothing at all.
The back door flew open.
Emily flinched, hand tightening on the wheel as someone slid into the seat behind her. The door slammed shut with sharp finality.
“Drive.”
The voice was rough. Strained.
Emily turned her head slightly, annoyed more than startled. “Sorry, sir,” she said calmly. “I’m off duty.”
She lifted her chin and nodded toward the windshield. “Light’s off.”
“I said drive.”
She sighed and turned more fully, irritation bubbling up. “I’m not working. You’ll have to find another…”
She stopped.
The man in the back seat was hunched forward, shoulders tight, both hands pressed hard against his left side. His fingers were slick with blood. Dark red. Too much of it. It soaked through his shirt, spreading fast, staining the fabric and dripping onto the seat.
Emily’s breath caught.
“Oh my God,” she whispered. “You’re bleeding.”
“Drive.”
Her heart started pounding, the calm she’d been floating in evaporating instantly. “What happened to you? You need a hospital.”
“No,” he said sharply. “You need to do as I say…. Please.”
She stared at him, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. His face was pale, jaw clenched so tightly his teeth ground together. Sweat beaded along his hairline. Whatever happened to him hadn’t been small.
“I told you,” she said, voice firmer now, “I’m not working.”
“I’ll pay,” he snapped. “Whatever you want.”
“This isn’t about money,” she shot back. “Are you some kind of criminal? Because I’m not….”
“You’re wasting time,” he said again, weaker this time. “Please drive before they come out.”
Something in his tone made her pause. Not desperation alone. Control. Like pain was something he was used to managing.
Emily glanced at the side mirror.
Three men stepped out of the building behind them.
“Shit,” the man muttered. “You can’t let them see me.”
He sank lower into the seat, shoulders folding inward, trying to make himself smaller, invisible. One hand stayed pressed to his side, the other braced against the floor as if the car itself might hide him.
Outside, the men moved slowly at first, scanning the ground. Emily watched as one of them crouched, fingers brushing against something on the pavement. Blood. He looked up and followed the trail with his eyes.
Straight to the cab.
Her stomach dropped.
The men straightened. One of them pointed.
They broke into a run.
“Get down,” the man in the back seat said hoarsely.
Emily didn’t think.
Her foot slammed onto the gas.
The cab lurched forward just as one of the men reached for the door handle. Tires screeched. The city surged into motion around them, lights streaking as she swerved into traffic.
“What the hell is going on?” Emily shouted, hands tight on the wheel.
“Just drive,” he said through clenched teeth.
“I’m driving,” she snapped. “Who are those people?”
He groaned, bracing himself as the car surged forward. “I have no idea.”
Emily glanced at the mirror again.
The men were already in a car—black, fast. It peeled away from the curb and fell in behind them with terrifying ease.
“They’re following us,” she said, heart pounding. “You’re telling me you don’t know the people chasing you with guns?”
He didn’t answer right away.
“They’re willing to do all this just to get to you,” she pressed. “And you don’t know who they are?”
His voice came strained. “Maybe they have the wrong person.”
Emily shot him a sharp look. “What do you mean they have the wrong person?”
Silence.
Her grip tightened on the wheel. “You don’t get to be quiet right now.”
He exhaled sharply, pain cracking through his composure. “What do I have to say to make you believe I don’t know who these people are?”
She hesitated, then asked, “Did you take something from them?”
“No,” he said quickly. “Of course not.” He paused, then added, almost bitterly, “Do you really think that matters in a situation like this?”
“It matters to me,” Emily snapped. “You just dragged me into this.”
The car behind them closed the distance, headlights flaring in her rearview mirror.
“Where am I supposed to go?” she asked.
“Anywhere,” he said. “Just lose them.”
Emily swallowed hard and turned sharply onto a side street, tires squealing as the cab cut through traffic. Her pulse roared in her ears, instincts snapping into place. She took another turn, then another, weaving through narrow roads and parked cars.
The city blurred.
“They’re still there,” she muttered.
“Keep driving.”
“I can’t outrun them in a cab!”
She pushed harder anyway, foot heavy on the pedal. The engine protested, but she ignored it. Her hands moved with surprising steadiness, muscles remembering something her mind refused to name.
The man behind her drew in a sharp breath, blood slick on his fingers. “Find somewhere quiet,” he said, voice tight with control. “Drop me off, and you can be on your way.”
Emily glanced at him in the mirror, then twisted in her seat just enough to look back. His face had gone pale, jaw clenched, eyes glassy with pain.
“Shut up,” she said. “Just make sure you don’t die on my backseat.”
She turned her eyes forward just as a car suddenly burst out from a side street ahead of them.
Emily barely had time to register it.
“Shit…”
She yanked the wheel hard to the right.
The cab skidded, tires screaming as metal screamed louder. The world tilted. Glass shattered. Gravity vanished.
Then everything slammed down at once.
The car crashed into a ditch, the impact throwing Emily forward as the airbag exploded in her face. The sound was deafening. Crushing. Final…
Emily stood in the doorway of a small wooden house, her bare feet pressed into the floor as if the threshold itself had roots. Inside the room, a little girl sat cross-legged on a woven carpet, her back to the door.The girl wore a flowery dress.Bright. Soft. Too clean for the world around her.Toys were scattered everywhere - dolls, painted blocks, tiny animals carved from wood. The girl lifted her hands and laughed, and the toys rose into the air as if they belonged there. Two dolls floated higher, spinning gently, their small arms locked together as if they were play-fighting.The girl provided the voices herself, changing tones, giggling, completely absorbed.Emily watched from the doorway with a soft smile on her face.The girl’s laughter warmed something deep in her chest, a quiet, unfamiliar comfort spreading through her like sunlight. For a moment, the world felt gentle. Safe. The way the toys danced in the air made Emily’s heart feel light, as if the girl’s joy was somehow h
Emily climbed the stairs to her sleeping quarters above the agency like someone carrying invisible weight.Every step felt heavier than the last, not because her body was weak, but because her mind wouldn’t slow down. Anger clung to her ribs. Frustration sat in her throat. Knox’s voice replayed itself in her head - calm, controlled, always one step ahead, always holding back pieces of the truth.He had done it again.He always did.He told her one plan, then executed another. Sent her into the field believing she knew what she was walking into, only to change the rules while she was already bleeding. Knox never trusted her fully. There had always been something in his eyes when he looked at her - not fear, not doubt, but calculation. As if she were a powerful tool he admired but never intended to loosen his grip on.Sometimes she wondered if he enjoyed it.Enjoyed watching her scramble. Watching her react. Watching her realize she was never fully in control.By the time she reached th
The penthouse sat high above the city, wrapped in glass and light.Emily stood near the window, arms folded, watching the glow of traffic far below. Everything felt unreal - the height, the silence, the soft hum of luxury. The room smelled clean and expensive, like money and calm had been bottled and sprayed into the air.“This is insane,” she muttered.Damien stood a few steps behind her, loosening his jacket. “It’s safe.”“You don’t know that.”“I do,” he said. “If you go back to your place, they’ll find you. Here, they won’t.”She turned to face him. “So I’m just supposed to trust you?”He met her gaze evenly. “Yes.”She laughed once, sharp and humorless. “You really think that’s enough?”“I’m a good man,” he said simply.Emily stepped closer. “Good men don’t have people with guns chasing them through the city and trying to kill them.”“I’m telling you,” Damien said, his voice calm but firm. “I don’t know who those people were.”She studied him for a moment, searching for cracks. T
Silence.The music was gone. The engine hissed and spat, steam curling from beneath the hood like breath escaping a dying animal. Emily’s ears rang, the sound sharp and endless, as the world swam in and out of focus. Her chest burned when she tried to breathe.She groaned softly and forced her eyes open.“Hey,” she whispered, her voice rough. “Hey… are you alive?”No answer.Her heart began to pound. Slowly, carefully, she turned in her seat. The man in the back was slumped sideways, his head tilted at an unnatural angle, blood still spreading beneath him, dark and wet against the seat.Sirens wailed somewhere far away.Getting closer.Emily stared at him, then down at her hands gripping the steering wheel. They were shaking. The metal bracelet around her wrist gleamed dully in the dim light, cold and tight against her skin.Then the man groaned.Her head snapped up.His eyes fluttered open, unfocused, his breath coming in shallow gasps. “Told you…” he muttered weakly. “Should’ve left
The yellow cab was parked at the curb, engine idling, its roof light dark.Emily sat behind the wheel with one elbow resting on the door, fingers tapping lightly against the steering wheel in time with the music spilling from the radio. An old song. Slow. Familiar. The kind that made the city outside the windshield blur into lights and shadows instead of noise and chaos.The sign was off. She leaned back slightly, letting the seat cradle her shoulders, eyes half-lidded as the melody carried her somewhere softer. Somewhere quieter. For a moment, she could almost pretend she was just another woman in the city, killing time, listening to music, waiting for nothing at all.The back door flew open.Emily flinched, hand tightening on the wheel as someone slid into the seat behind her. The door slammed shut with sharp finality.“Drive.”The voice was rough. Strained.Emily turned her head slightly, annoyed more than startled. “Sorry, sir,” she said calmly. “I’m off duty.”She lifted her chi







