___At the wellington city__
In the narrow alley, a woman in a black trench coat moved quickly, hood drawn tight over her head. Her steps were uneven, hurried, and she kept glancing over her shoulder, and scanning the buildings around her for cameras she half-suspected were there.
At the far end of the alley, another figure lingered in the shade. Beyond the walls, the sunlit street carried on, vendors calling, footsteps shuffling past, wheels clattering over asphalt. Yet here she stood, set apart from it all. The hood of her jacket hung low, veiling her face and turning her presence into a riddle against the brightness of day.
The moment their eyes met, the first woman broke into a quicker pace. "I only have five minutes before someone notices I'm gone," she blurted, breathless.
The woman lifted her head, dark eyes burning with urgency. "Calm down, Jasmine." As her hood shifted back, her face came into view—it was Lydia.
