The muzzle flash lit Lin's face for a split second before darkness swallowed him again. He shifted position, keeping low, feeling the rooftop's slick surface under his palms. The mercenaries below moved like wolves — disciplined, cautious, but relentless.
One of them knelt near a stack of shipping crates, radio pressed to his ear. Lin caught just enough of the voice over the static to hear:
"Target on the roof. Flank east side. Cut him off."
They were coming up after him.
Lin moved quickly, crawling to the far side of the roof and dropping down onto a fire escape. His boots hit the metal rungs with a dull clang, and he winced — noise was currency here, and he'd just paid too much.
Below, Keller's voice cut through the comm: "Two on your left, closing fast."
Lin swung over the railing, landing silently behind a storage container. The smell of saltwater mixed with the sharp tang of gunpowder. He drew in a slow breath and peeked around the corner.
