Xyra Pash's Arc

Chapter 4 of 4

Xyra dropped through the second-floor window and landed in the back hallway of The Slip's Haven. The tracker sat in her bag like a weight she couldn't shake. She could hear voices from the main room, low and casual. The client would be waiting at a table, expecting a simple handoff. She pulled the package from her bag and set it on the floor. The blinking device beneath showed faint through the fabric lining. She tore the lining open with her knife and pried the tracker loose. It was smaller than her thumb, still pulsing red. She wrapped it in the torn fabric, stuffed it back in the bag, and left the whole thing in the hallway. The package went into her jacket pocket. She walked into the main room, found the contact at the corner table, and dropped the package in front of him without a word. He started to speak but she was already moving toward the exit. The street outside was clear. She took the fire escape up three levels and crossed two rooftops before dropping into an alley behind a cafe with cracked windows and flickering neon sign. She stopped at the corner and waited. Five minutes passed. Then ten. No one followed. The tracker was still sitting in that hallway, blinking its location to whoever was listening. They'd know she dumped it. They'd know she refused to be their asset. Two days later, she found the camera outside her usual drop point. Someone had marked it with a purple squiggle, still wet enough to catch the light. The lens tracked her as she passed. She recognized the symbol. The Slip didn't forgive runners who broke protocol. They'd paid for a delivery that arrived without their surveillance intact, and now every job board she checked showed her rate cut in half. No explanation. No negotiation. Just a reputation that said she couldn't be trusted to follow simple terms. She'd chosen freedom over leverage, and the cost was that the most powerful client on Level 13 now considered her a liability.