One Step Ahead, One Life Behind

Outside the Golden Orchid, the city exhibited a restless energy. Neon signs flickered in an erratic manner, casting distorted colors onto the rain-slicked pavement. The air was imbued with the scents of gasoline, damp concrete, and the faint bitterness of cigarette smoke wafting from alleyways. Noctavia remained perpetually awake. Beneath the hum of the nightlife, danger lay concealed in the shadows, and this evening, Alessio Vargas was acutely aware of it.

Upon exiting the lounge, he adjusted his coat around his broad shoulders. His gaze traversed the sidewalk, looking for anything amiss. His instincts, honed over years of maneuvering through the underworld, screamed at him that something was amiss.

The black sedan waited at the curb, its polished surface mirroring the city lights. The driver's face was obscured by tinted glass. The scarred bodyguard who had departed earlier stood by the open door, his expression inscrutable.

#

"We should go now, boss," the man said, his voice low and steady.

Vargas hesitated. A drop of sweat slid down his temple despite the cool night air. He slid into the back seat, the leather cold against his skin. The door shut with a dull thud, enclosing him in silence. His two remaining guards followed, sitting on either side of him.

The car eased into traffic, gliding past rows of high-rise buildings and flickering streetlights. The engine's low hum did little to ease Vargas's unease. He pulled out his phone, his fingers hovering over the screen before finally typing a message.

Change of plans. Meet at safe house instead.

The message sent. He watched the screen.

No reply.

His grip tightened around the phone. The safe house was an old warehouse on the outskirts of Noctavia, surrounded by stacks of rusting shipping containers. It was supposed to be a secure fallback, a place where his cartel regrouped when things got messy. But now, as they moved farther from the city's core, a gnawing suspicion took hold.

He flicked his gaze to the rearview mirror. The driver's eyes remained fixed on the road, his expression unnervingly blank. Vargas had hired him months ago, but at this moment, he could not recall the man's name.

He leaned forward slightly. "Where's our tail?"

One of the guards checked the side mirror, his jaw tightening. "No one's following."

Vargas's stomach churned. That was impossible.

Lilith Castellano never let her prey escape so easily.

Meanwhile

A few blocks behind, another black car blended seamlessly with the traffic, its presence unremarkable. Inside, the air was cool, carrying the faint scent of leather and gun oil.

Lilith Castellano sat in the back seat, one leg crossed over the other, fingers tapping idly against the smooth surface of her phone. Her icy blue eyes followed the sedan ahead, though her expression remained unreadable. The dim interior light cast a soft glow over her features, sharpening the edges of her quiet smirk.

Beside her, Nina watched the screen of a tablet, tracking the vehicle's movement in real time. A small red dot blinked steadily over the map, following the winding path toward the industrial district.

"They changed the route," Nina murmured. "Looks like they're heading to the outskirts."

Lilith tilted her head slightly, considering the shift in plans. Vargas was being careful. Smart, even. But he did not realize that no matter where he ran, the ending had already been written.

She exhaled slowly and tapped a pre-written message on her phone. The reply came almost instantly.

Already waiting. They won't make it past the bridge.

A slow smile played on her lips.

The industrial district was a graveyard of forgotten machinery and crumbling infrastructure, a perfect hunting ground. Moretti and his team had sealed every possible exit. There would be no escape.

Nina's fingers traced the edge of her earpiece. "You want him conscious, right?"

Lilith nodded. "For now."

The car continued its steady pursuit, maintaining the perfect distance. Silent. Unseen.

***

The black sedan progressed steadily toward the outskirts, with the city lights gradually diminishing as the streets widened and became increasingly vacant. Inside the vehicle, Vargas's fingers tapped against his knee, his movements revealing the tension in his shoulders.

The silence within the car felt unnatural. His bodyguards appeared vigilant, yet there was an element in their stance that suggested hesitation. His gaze shifted to the driver once more. The man's hands clutched the steering wheel excessively tight.

Vargas's phone vibrated. He looked down, anticipating a reply from his contact at the safe house. Instead, a solitary message materialized from an unknown number.

Turn around.

He tightened his grip on the phone.

His pulse throbbed against his temple as he contemplated the implications of the message. The phone vibrated again.

You have thirty seconds.

He clenched his jaw. "Stop the car. "

The driver dismissed his command. The sedan continued along the desolate road, nearing the bridge that led into the industrial district.

Vargas lowered his voice. "I said stop the damn car. "

The driver remained unresponsive.

The bodyguard on his right subtly shifted, his hand moving towards his weapon. Vargas observed the motion from the corner of his eye, and a chilling sensation settled in his chest.

The driver was not disregarding him.

The driver had never been aligned with him from the outset.

His mind processed the situation in an instant. Lilith had already taken action.

Without hesitation, Vargas extended his hand toward the gun holstered at his side. Before he could extract the weapon, the bodyguard beside him acted. The firearm was wrenched from his grasp, the cold barrel pressing against his ribs before he had the opportunity to react.

His own man had betrayed him.

The other guard remained rigid, his gaze shifting between Vargas and the traitor beside him. The tension heightened to an unbearable level, poised to snap.

Vargas's thoughts raced. The driver. The bodyguard. How many others had been compromised?

His phone vibrated once more, but this time, he did not feel the need to check. He was already aware of what it would convey.

Time's up.

The black sedan never traversed past the bridge.