Xyra Pash's Arc

Chapter 3 of 4

The fire escape ended two floors below the roof. Xyra scaled the final stretch using the window ledges, fingers finding holds in the concrete gaps between frames. She pulled herself onto the gravel-topped roof and crossed to the access door that would lead down into The Slip's Haven. But voices stopped her three steps from the door. Two men stood beside a cracked satellite dish, its tangled wires spilling across the rooftop like dead nerves. She dropped low behind a ventilation unit. One voice carried corporate polish. The other belonged to someone who gave orders on Level 13. "The tracker's already in her bag," the corporate voice said. "Let her make the delivery. We want the client, not the runner." The second voice laughed. "And after?" "After, she's flagged. Every job she takes, we know about it. Give it two weeks and she'll lead us to half the independents on this level." Xyra's hand moved to her delivery bag. The package sat inside, exactly where she'd placed it. They hadn't needed to catch her. They'd already won. She could dump the bag right now, lose the tracker, and walk away from the contract. Or she could finish the delivery and become bait for every runner who worked outside corporate control. She stood and moved toward the roof's edge, away from the access door. Below, a figure in white armor patrolled the street, electric baton crackling blue at his side. Six more like him covered the perimeter. The client was inside, waiting for a package that would turn Xyra into a weapon pointed at everyone she'd never let close enough to matter. She pulled the bag's strap tight across her chest and mapped the route to the second-floor window. The job was finishing what she started. The cost was that they'd be watching every move after.