bChapter /bb326 /b

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Jade’s POV:

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i77 /i

Ethan’s warm hands carefully wiped my feet with a damp cloth. I watched his movements, methodical yet gentle. His fingers hesitated over a small cut on my ankle before dabbing it with antiseptic.

“Tomorrow I’ll have that kid buy some proper food,” he said, eyes fixed on his task. “You need nutrients to heal faster.” fnd0e8 ?????? ???? F?nd-Novel/fnd0e8

I nced toward the cracked window, darkness seeping through its broken edges. “The kid hasn’te back yet.”

Ethan’s smile faded as he processed my words. He looked at the door, then back at me. “I’ll go find him.”

“We’ll go together,” I said, already shifting to get up.

My wounds protested, but I could move now. As long as I was careful not to tear open the stitches in my shoulder, bI /bcould handle a short walk.

Ethan helped me up with gentle hands, supporting my weight as I stood. He knelt to slip my shoes on, then turned off the single bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. Darkness enveloped us.

I felt his hand find mine, warm and solid. He stepped slightly ahead, leading the way through the pitch–ck room.

The slum was vast, abyrinth of makeshift homes and narrow pathways. We headed toward the market area first, Ethan keeping me close as we navigated through the darkness. We’d nearly reached the edge of the settlement when we both realized something was wrong.

I turned, looking to the right, toward the east side of the slum. Our eyes met in the darkness, understanding passing between us without words.

The garbage dump. That was where the boy spent most of his time before we arrived, searching for treasures amid others‘ trash.

We changed direction, the stench hitting us before we even got close. The massive pile of refuse loomed ahead, a mountain of discarded items that sustained the poorest residents of thismunity.

Near the dump stood several copsed buildings. The boy had mentioned sleeping in one of them before–the one that still had bmost /bof its walls, even if itcked a proper roof.

Ethan led us toward this partial structure. As we approached, I spotted a small shoe lying near the entrance–the oversized sneaker the boy had proudly shown us, his prized possession from the garbage heap.

Ethan froze, his hand tightening around mine. I pulled away, moving forward with purpose.

Inside the decayed shell of the building, the ground was littered with fallen chunks of ceiling and wall. In the only intact corner, a ttened cardboard box served as a bed. In front of ity the boy, motionless on the dirt floor.

The metallic scent of blood mingled with the garbage stench. In his small, stiff hands were clutched two chocte bars.

I moved to him quickly, crouching to check for a pulse I already knew wouldn’t be there. My fingers found his neckb, /bconfirming what my eyes had already told me. Still, I tried again, taking his small wristb, /bhoping to find the faintest flutter of life.

?

b10:34 /bbги/b,

Nothing.

bM /b

:.

:

My jaw tightened as rage built within me, my eyes growing cold and deadly in the darkness. This child had nothing worth stealing, nothing worth killing for.

If he’d been robbed, he would have surrendered the chocte immediately. But here he wasb, /bstill clutching them, having died protecting his gift. He should have run straight back to bus/b. Instead, he’d been diverted here, to the opposite side of where we were staying.

Someone had followed him, used him, then silenced him with a single, efficient slice across the throat. The blood pattern showed he’d struggled briefly, yet never released the chocte.

He’d never get to spend the money he’d saved. He’d never wear his treasured shoes for more than a day. He’d never taste Ethan’s promised soup or give me the chocte he died holding. He’d never know I nned to take him away from this ceb, /bgive him proper foodb, /bnew shoes, a chance to grow tall and strong as he’d wished.

I gently removed my jacket andid it over the small body. Standing up, I felt cold fury radiating through me as I moved toward the exit, the tactical knife from my sleeve dropping into my palm.

“Jade.” Ethan’s voice was tight with concern.

“They will be here soon,” he said urgently. “He bought us time to escape with his life.”

But I couldn’t hear him. All I could see was the path back to our room, where they might waited. I broke into a run, my injuries forgotten as adrenaline flooded my system.

We needed to leave, but first, I needed blood.

Ethan and I moved stealthily through the darkened slum, repeatedly ducking into shadows as ck–d figures passed by.

One killer stood just thirty feet away, cleaning a short de. Even in the dim light, I could make out the small mole on his chin. The blood of a child still stained his knife.

My grip tightened on my own weapon, but I remained still. Ethan’s hand found my arm, a silent reminder of what was at stake. We couldn’t afford a confrontation–not with my injuries, not with so many of them.

More operatives converged on the area. We narrowly avoided detection multiple times, slipping past their search pattern by mere seconds. My shoulder throbbed with each movement, but I pushed through the pain.

We finally reached the edge of the slum, breaking into a careful run once we hit clearer ground. Behind bus/b, Shadow’s forces continued their methodical search, unaware their targets had already escaped.

The small hotel room felt secure enough for now. Ethan carefully removed the bandage on my shoulder, revealing the wound that had begun bleeding again during our escape.

Dawn was approaching, the sky outside gradually lightening. In a few hours, Ethan ventured out, returning with medical supplies. He silently rebandaged my shoulder, his touch professional but gentle.

10:34 Fri, bOct /bb3 /bM…

I sat on the bed, silent and still. The image of the boy–Tolosa–wouldn’t leave my mind.

Eventually, I stood up.

“Where are you going?” Ethan asked, instantly alert.

“Making a call,” I replied, my voice t.

Downstairs, the hotel manager let me use the phone. I dialed a number I knew by heart.

Night answered immediately. “Hello?” His voice was tenseb, /bcautious.

When he heard my voice, his relief was palpable. “Baby girl! Are you okay? How’s your woundb?/b”

“Fine,” I replied, my tone emotionless despite the endearment.

He must have heard something in my voice, because his tone changed. Before he could ask, I continued:

A

“At the east side of the slum, by the garbage dump, in a copsed building. There’s a boy’s body. Bury him properly.” My voice remained steady. “His name is Tolosa.”

I paused, then added: “Find the operative with a mole on his chin, American features, about five–ten. Kill him for me.”

Night was silent for a moment. “I will.”

“Be careful,” I finished, then hung up.

Ethan was waiting by the hotel exit. Without a word, we left, disappearing into the morning crowd.

Chapter Comments

Toyaflowabomb

3 days ago

I’m not crying, you are

i? /i3

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