The Lower District Breach

June Miller did not like silence. In the Lower District, silence usually meant someone was holding their breath before a fight. She sat in the back of the neon-lit deli, tapping her fingernails against a chipped plastic table. Lydia was three hours late.

Lydia was never late.

June pulled out her phone. She sent a tenth text. If you’re ghosting me for that suit from the bar, I’m stealing your shoes. No reply. The "read" receipt didn't even trigger.

The deli door creaked open. A man walked in. He didn't belong here. He wore a charcoal suit that cost more than the entire building. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and moved like a shadow.

June felt the hair on her arms stand up. She reached into her messenger bag and gripped the handle of a heavy monkey wrench.

"We’re closed," the deli owner barked from the counter.

The man didn't look at the owner. His eyes scanned the room and locked onto June. They were dark, empty eyes.

"June Miller," the man said. It wasn't a question.

"Who’s asking?" June stood up. She kept the bag between them.

"My name is Silas Vane. I’m here to ensure you stop looking for Lydia Hart."

June felt a surge of cold fury. "Where is she? What did that bastard Voss do to her?"

Silas walked closer. He didn't run. He didn't rush. He just drifted toward her with a terrifying steadiness. "She is in a safe place. She is starting a new life. You are at a loose end."

"I'm at a loose end?" June laughed, but her heart was hammering. "I’m her best friend. You tell Adrian if he doesn't bring her back to the District in an hour, I'm going to the press with every shady thing I know about his company."

Silas stopped five feet away. "You know nothing that matters. But your noise is an inconvenience."

He moved.

June didn't see him swing. She just felt the rush of air. She dove behind the counter, narrowly missing a hand that looked like it could crush bone. She swung the wrench. It hit Silas in the shoulder with a dull thud.

He didn't flinch. He didn't even grunt. He just looked at the spot where she hit him, then back at her.

"That was a mistake," Silas whispered.

June scrambled toward the back exit. She kicked over a stack of crates to block the aisle. Silas didn't climb over them. He moved through them, kicking the heavy plastic aside like it was paper.

June burst out into the rain-slicked alleyway. She ran toward the maze of shipping containers near the docks. She knew these streets. He didn't.

She turned a sharp corner, skidding on the wet pavement. She expected to hear his footsteps behind her. There was nothing. Just the sound of the rain hitting metal.

She stopped, gasping for air. She looked back. The alley was empty.

"Looking for me?"

The voice came from above. June looked up. Silas was standing on top of a shipping container ten feet in the air. He shouldn't have been able to get up there that fast. It was impossible.

He jumped. He landed with a heavy thud, but he didn't roll. He just stood up, perfectly balanced.

"What are you?" June gasped, backing away.

"I am the person who is going to make you forget Lydia exists," Silas said.

He reached out and grabbed her throat. His grip was like a steel vice. June swung the wrench again, but he caught her wrist mid-air. He squeezed. She heard a crack. The wrench clattered to the ground.

June choked, her feet leaving the pavement. She looked into his dark eyes and saw something flickering there. It wasn't hate. It was a strange, dull pain.

"Just... kill me... then," June managed to wheeze out.

Silas hesitated. His grip loosened just a fraction. For a split second, the robotic mask slipped.

Suddenly, a set of headlights blinded them both. A car roared into the alley, tires screaming. Silas dropped June. She hit the ground, coughing and clutching her bruised neck.

The car didn't stop. It sped toward Silas. He didn't move until the last second. He blurred a literal blur of motion and appeared on the side of the car, slamming his fist into the passenger window. The glass shattered, but the car kept going, disappearing into the main street.

June scrambled toward a pile of trash, hiding her body. Silas stood in the middle of the alley. His knuckles were bleeding, but the blood was too dark. It looked like motor oil.

He looked toward the direction the car went, then looked at the spot where June was hiding. He didn't pursue her.

"Stay in the shadows, June," Silas said. His voice was louder now, carried by the wind. "If I see you again, I won't be able to stop what happens next."

He turned and walked into the darkness.

June stayed hidden for twenty minutes. Her wrist was throbbing. Her neck felt like it had been hit by a truck. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. The screen was cracked, but it still worked.

She didn't call the police. She knew the police worked for Voss.

She scrolled through her contacts until she found a number she hadn't called in years. It was a contact for a group of underground hackers who specialized in "corporate ghosting."

"I need a trace," June whispered into the phone when someone picked up. "Find a black sedan leaving the Lower District. And find me a way into the Voss Estate."

She looked at her bruised wrist. She thought about Silas’s inhuman speed. She thought about Lydia’s missing texts.

"I’m coming for you, Lyd," she muttered. "And

I’m bringing the whole damn empire down."