Chapter 4 - Rain on the Concrete
The utility bridge was cold, slick with wind-driven mist, and exposed to the open gray sky above the alleyway.
Below us, the city lights blurred through the steady autumn rain, casting long, bruised reflections across the wet asphalt. I clutched Eli tightly against my chest, wrapping the thick white blanket around his face to shield him from the biting wind. Every step across the metal grating sent a jolt of pain through my ribs, but I kept pace with Gabriel, who walked slightly ahead, shielding my flank with his own body.
Mason brought up the rear, his rifle tucked close, scanning the shadows behind us with cold, methodical precision.
"Clear," Mason whispered into the comms as we reached the heavy steel fire door on the commercial tower side. He punched a sequence into the digital keypad, and the latch clicked open with a heavy, satisfying thud.
We slipped inside into the dim, concrete stairwell of the abandoned office block. The air smelled of damp drywall, dust, and old iron. We descended four flights in silence, our boots echoing softly against the concrete steps until we reached a sublevel exit leading directly into a municipal transit tunnel.
Gabriel pulled me into the shadow of a concrete pillar, waiting while Mason checked the outer perimeter of the tunnel exit. The distant roar of a subway train vibrated through the foundation, drowning out our breathing.
"We have an unmarked van waiting fifty yards down the maintenance access lane," Gabriel said quietly, his hand resting briefly on my shoulder to steady me. "It's clean. No corporate tags, no GPS."
"Lead the way," I murmured, keeping my eyes fixed on the dim exit.
The physical toll of the past twenty-four hours was catching up with me; my vision swam slightly at the edges, and a cold sweat broke out across the back of my neck. I stumbled slightly as we stepped out onto the gravel path, my boot sliding on the wet stone.
Gabriel caught my arm before I hit the ground, pulling me flush against his chest with a strength that brooked no argument. For a second, the cold rain and the threat of pursuit vanished, replaced by the solid warmth of his body and the clean scent of cedar and rain clinging to his suit.
"I've got you," he whispered, his voice dropping low, lacking all of its usual corporate authority.
May you like
"I'm fine," I lied, pulling back just enough to keep moving toward the van.
"You're bleeding through your shirt again," Gabriel noted grimly, his eyes catching the dark stain spreading across the white fabric. But he didn't argue further; he simply kept his arm locked firmly around my waist, guiding me every step of the way to the vehicle door.
