The shot missed my head by less than an inch.
I didn't stop running.
People screamed as the glass storefront exploded behind me. The street was crowded, but none of that mattered. All I could hear was my breath and the countdown in my head.
Five seconds.
That's how long I had before they corrected their aim.
I vaulted over a fallen bike and slid across the hood of a parked car, my shoes scraping metal. Another gunshot cracked the air. This one hit the car's engine, smoke erupting instantly. I rolled off and kept moving.
No police. No help. This city belonged to them.
I ducked into an alley, slammed my shoulder into a fire door, and burst inside a stairwell. My legs burned as I took the steps two at a time. My phone vibrated.
UNKNOWN: You shouldn't have opened the file.
I didn't reply. Talking wastes time.
I reached the rooftop and froze.
Two men stood there already. Black jackets. Calm faces. Professionals.
So they had predicted my route.
I turned, but the stairwell door slammed shut from below. Trapped.
The first man raised his weapon. I threw my phone at his face and sprinted toward the ledge. The second man lunged, grabbing my jacket, tearing fabric as I jumped.
The ground was six floors down.
I hit the fire escape instead, rolling hard, barely keeping my grip. Bullets tore through the metal steps above my head. I dropped, landed badly, and felt something crack in my ankle.
Pain didn't matter.
I limped into the building through a broken window and collapsed into darkness.
Silence.
For a moment, I thought I'd lost them.
Then the lights turned on.
A room full of screens surrounded me. Every camera angle. Every street. Every face.
And in the center of it all sat a man clapping slowly.
"Well done," he said. "You survived longer than expected."
I tried to stand. My ankle gave out.
He leaned forward.
"You stole data that can collapse governments," he continued. "And now you have a choice."
Behind him, a screen lit up with a live feed.
My name appeared on it.
Then a countdown began.
00:59
He smiled.
"Run," he said.