The locker smelled faintly of dust and metal polish, the kind of scent that clung to train stations long after the commuters were gone. Lena stood before it, envelope in hand, her knuckles white. From where I waited down the corridor, half-hidden by a vending machine that hummed too loudly, I could see the tremor in her fingers.Victor’s voice had coached her through this moment a dozen times: Ordinary steps, shoulders steady, no prey eyes. She walked the line now as if she’d borrowed his calm, pausing briefly to tie a shoe that didn’t need tying, glancing at her phone as though a text had just come in. The motions were smooth, practiced, rehearsed into muscle memory.But when her hand touched the locker’s cold handle, I held my breath anyway.She slid the envelope inside, shut the door with deliberate ease, and pivoted—not too fast, not too slow—before walking back down the corridor. Past me, past Marco, past Andre disguised as a man absorbed in his paperback. No courier arrived this
Terakhir Diperbarui : 2025-09-21
Masuk
