Chapter 18: Don’t Play Games With Me

*Lena*

The black market was everything I expected it to be—dark, dirty, and dangerous. I dressed the part wearing an old, oversized hoodie with the hood pulled to obscure my face. I kept my head down, my hands shoved into the pockets of my jeans, as I navigated the narrow, dimly lit alleyways. My heart raced in my chest, every instinct screaming at me to get out before it was too late.

But I had to see this through.

The arms dealer was in a small, windowless room at the back of a dilapidated building. He was a wiry man with a thin mustache and shifty eyes that darted around the room.

“What do you want?” he asked, his voice rough, as I approached the counter.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself. “I need a gun. Something small, easy to handle… a pistol, maybe.”