Chapter 32: Trigger Word: Ready
The atmosphere at the safehouse had changed.
Audrey stood at the center of the room, the soft light from Kenzo's projection flickering across her face. She'd just finished recounting her conversation with Rina—the pain, the hesitation, the fire that sparked even through the fear.
"She's close," Audrey said softly. "Scared. But closer to making a decision than she's ever been."
Kenzo nodded, typing furiously. The screen showed several city grids—maps, alley access points, subway entries. "We shouldn't wait until she's ready to yell for help. We prep now. Quiet extraction routes. Anonymous transport."
Hana, sitting cross-legged on the armrest of the couch, clicked her pen. "We could intercept from the stairwell. Elevators are too easy to trap. If we create a distraction outside, we might get her through the back stairs without him ever knowing she's gone."
Damian stood, arms crossed but listening closely. "What's his schedule like? We know when he's most volatile—mornings. We use nightfall. Minimize risk."
Audrey remained calm, but her fingers had curled slightly around her notepad. She nodded. "Thank you. All of you. We don't push her. But when she's ready, we'll be one step ahead."
The meeting ended quietly, and the others slowly dispersed—Kenzo back to his terminal, Hana stretching into the hallway, Damian grabbing a fresh water bottle from the fridge.
Later that night, the safehouse was quiet.
The kind of silence that only comes after planning something that can't afford to fail.
Audrey stood alone in the kitchen, her sleeves pushed to her elbows, stirring a pot of hot chocolate on the stove. The soft clink of the spoon against the mug was rhythmic, grounding. Her breath was slow, deliberate, but her eyes were distant.
She didn't flinch when Damian's voice spoke from behind her. "Couldn't sleep either?"
Audrey gave a faint smile. "Didn't try."
He leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching her with something softer in his eyes.
"You know, I've seen you handle chaos without blinking. You're the calm in every storm. But today... today you looked like someone who was remembering."
She handed him a mug and leaned back against the stove, letting out a quiet breath. Her fingers curled around her own cup. "Because I was."
Damian nodded slowly, not pushing her, just listening.
"She reminds me of... well. Me. Back then. The way she flinched. The way she tried to smile through it. I know what it means to survive and still feel like you're drowning."
There was a long pause before she added, "It never really leaves you. It just... quiets for a while. Until you see it in someone else's eyes. Then it screams again."
Damian took a sip. "I figured."
Audrey stared down into her own mug. "I used to think I could spot it. In other women. The ones who were breaking slowly, quietly. But sometimes it hides behind good posture and polite smiles."
"That's the most dangerous kind of pain," Damian said. "The one nobody sees until it's too late."
There was a beat of silence.
Then Audrey's voice came out, lower. "Do you think I'm doing the right thing? Helping her escape? Even though she's not ready?"
Damian looked at her, his voice steady. "Yes. Because deep down, she wants to be saved. Sometimes people just need someone else to say it's okay to run."
Audrey didn't reply, but her shoulders relaxed a fraction.
"You carry more than you let on," Damian said. "But you don't have to carry it alone. Not with us around."
She turned to him, her smile small but real. "Thank you."
He hesitated for a moment, then stepped forward and gently pulled her into a hug. Audrey didn't resist—she let herself be held, just for a moment longer than she usually would.
Damian kept his voice low, teasing just enough to lift the weight. "If Kenzo sees me hugging you, I swear I'm not making it out of here alive."
Audrey gave a small laugh against his shoulder. "Then we better not tell him."
"Deal," Damian said, pulling back with a wink. "But seriously—whatever happens tomorrow, we've got you."
She nodded. "And I've got you all too."
In that stillness, for just a moment, the weight between them felt a little lighter.
As the steam curled from their mugs into the still kitchen air, the weight of the night pressed gently on them both—not crushing, but undeniable.
The storm was coming.
But for a moment, there was warmth.
Meanwhile, across the city, the apartment lights were dim. Rina moved carefully, quietly, just as she had every night. But tonight, she wasn't just tidying. She knelt by the edge of the closet, reaching beneath loose floorboards.
Her fingers closed around the cloth pouch she had hidden earlier—inside, spare cash, a copy of her ID, and the keys she'd duplicated the week before.
She tucked it inside the lining of her work tote, making sure it looked untouched.
Just as she stood and zipped the bag, a voice sliced through the silence behind her.
"What are you doing?"
Takumi stood at the bedroom door, backlit, his expression unreadable but his tone razor sharp.
Rina froze, her heart skipping a beat.
"Nothing," she said quickly, too quickly.
He stepped forward slowly, eyes narrowing. "You never leave that bag open."
Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.
Takumi's hand hovered near the tote. "What's in there, Rina?"
She forced a laugh, trembling. "Just receipts. My lunchbox. You want to see?"
His eyes lingered for a breath too long—then he stepped back, saying nothing, but watching her the entire time.
That night, after the apartment had gone still, Rina lay awake in the dark with her phone clutched to her chest. Her fingers hovered over the screen for a long time, breath catching with every creak of the floorboards.
She opened her message thread.
To Audrey.
Typed one word.
Ready.
And sent it.
At that exact moment, miles away, Audrey's phone buzzed gently on the table beside her. She picked it up, read the single word, and stood.
"She's in," she said aloud.
Within seconds, the others moved. The team snapped into motion.
Kenzo pulled up live surveillance feeds and began rerouting building security cameras from his laptop. His fingers flew across the keys. "Systems locked. Hallway and elevator feeds looped. We're dark."
Hana, already dressed in courier gear, adjusted her cap and headed out. "I'm on my way to the stairwell. Back route's clear."
Damian tossed on a hoodie and grabbed the keys to the getaway car. "Ten-minute buffer. I'll circle the block and wait on 3rd."
Everything they'd planned was now in motion.
And across the city, Rina sat alone in the dark, unaware that this time—this time—there would be someone waiting at the end of the hallway.
Someone coming to get her out.
For good.
That morning, Takumi had left earlier than usual—an unexpected meeting, or so he said. Rina had clutched the sink for a full five minutes after the door closed, her breath coming too fast to control.
But now, as she sat waiting, fully dressed and ready, her bag packed and placed discreetly by the door, the atmosphere changed.
The lock clicked.
The door opened.
Takumi stepped back inside.
"Forgot my tablet," he muttered, brushing past her with barely a glance. But before he reached the hallway, he stopped. Still. Silent.
His gaze zeroed in on the perfectly zipped tote by the door.
"That wasn't there this morning," he said slowly.
Rina froze.
"You going somewhere?" His voice had changed—lower, tighter. The kind of tone that made her throat dry instantly.
She forced a small laugh, trembling. "No. Just repacking for work."
He stepped closer. "Let me see it."
Rina instinctively moved to block the bag. "There's nothing in there—just my planner, Takumi."
He stopped inches from her. His eyes were sharp, his jaw set.
"You're lying."
She swallowed hard, trying not to flinch. "You're being paranoid."
"And you're being suspicious." He reached for the bag.
Rina reacted faster than she ever had before—grabbing it, clutching it to her chest. Her heart beat so fast she could barely breathe.
Takumi's face twisted. "What the hell is going on with you lately?"
A long pause.
"Nothing," she said again, quieter this time. "Just... tired."
He stared at her for a long, dangerous second—then without a word, spun on his heel and stormed into the bedroom. Drawers slammed. The closet doors rattled. His voice echoed faintly through the hall.
"I'll be late thanks to your drama."
And then, the sound of shoes hitting the floor. The door slamming shut. Silence.
Rina didn't move.
She stood in the middle of the living room, bag still clutched to her chest, shaking. Her knees nearly gave way beneath her, but she held on. Every breath was an effort—every second, a war between collapse and courage.
She pulled out her phone, her fingers numb.
Another message to Audrey:
"He's gone."
Across the street, Hana got the alert on her burner phone and immediately slipped out of the alley shadows. She moved like a shadow—efficient, quiet, composed.
Kenzo's voice buzzed through her earpiece. "Cameras looped. Stairwell clear. Move in."
Rina heard the knock—four soft taps, the pattern Audrey had taught her. She opened the door, tears in her eyes.
Hana didn't hesitate. She wrapped one arm around Rina's back, steadying her.
"You're safe now. Let's go."
They slipped through the back stairwell. Floor by floor, heartbeat by heartbeat.
Outside, Audrey stood near the alley entrance, eyes scanning every window, every passing car. When she saw them, her chest loosened.
Damian threw open the backseat. Rina slid in, sandwiched between blankets and adrenaline. Hana got in after her, hand still resting lightly on Rina's arm.
Damian looked through the rearview mirror, locked eyes with Audrey, then hit the accelerator.
The car peeled off, tires whispering over wet pavement, just as Takumi's building vanished behind them—swallowed by the night.
There was no shouting. No sirens. No chase.
Only breathless silence, adrenaline, and freedom sealed tight within a quiet vehicle.
They vanished into the night—quiet, efficient, successful.