The old woman stumbled further down the sidewalk, and Ethan hesitated before following her at a safe distance. She moved with surprising agility for her age, weaving through the crowded streets with an ease that belied her frailty. Ethan’s heart pounded, his mind a whirl of questions. Who carried a gun in their purse? And why would an elderly woman need one?

He thought about walking away—about minding his own business. But something about her demeanor, the cold steel glint in her eyes when she spotted the gun, made him push forward.

The woman turned into an alleyway, glancing over her shoulder. Ethan pressed himself against the wall, holding his breath. When he peeked around the corner, he saw her disappear into a worn-down building with peeling paint and boarded-up windows. The door creaked shut behind her.

Ethan knew he should leave, but his feet carried him forward, driven by a mix of curiosity and unease. The building loomed over him like a secret untold. He stepped into the shadows, his fingers brushing against the cold, rusted doorknob.

Inside, the air was thick with dust and the faint scent of decay. Ethan moved cautiously, his footsteps muffled by the worn carpet. He could hear muffled voices—a conversation coming from somewhere deeper within. He followed the sound, pressing his ear to a slightly ajar door.

“…you’ve been followed,” a gruff male voice said.

“I know,” the woman replied, her voice now devoid of the warmth she’d used earlier. It was sharp and commanding. “He’s harmless, but we can’t take risks. Not when we’re this close.”

Ethan’s stomach dropped. Were they talking about him?

He leaned in closer, accidentally nudging the door with his shoulder. It creaked loudly. The voices stopped. Ethan barely had time to react before the door was yanked...