Page 65 of Rogue Hope
They emerged into an alley flanked by dumpsters and delivery vehicles. Without stopping, Zara oriented herself and pointed east.
“Night market that way. Move fast but don’t run. Running draws eyes.”
They adopted a brisk walk, stripping outer layers of their disguises. Zara abandoned her hunch, standing tall for the first time in days. Her back muscles sang with relief, though the sudden change sent daggers through her hips.
They’d nearly reached the end of the alley when three figures appeared, blocking their path. The lead operative’s hand already reaching for his weapon.
“Split!” Finn shouted, diving right behind a delivery truck.
She went left, dragging Shen with her behind stacked wooden pallets. Gunfire erupted—suppressed weapons making dull thuds instead of cracks.
“Not standard Vanguard protocol,” Zara hissed as bullets splintered wood inches from her head. “They’re shooting to kill, not capture.”
“This is on Cipher’s orders. Trust me,” Shen replied grimly. “No way they’d end us if it wasn’t Cipher’s plan.”
The implications chilled her, but there was no time to process. Across the alley, Finn returned fire, providing cover while signaling toward a narrow passage between buildings.
“On my mark,” she told Shen, raising her weapon. “Three, two, one?—”
She fired three precise shots, forcing their pursuers to cover. Shen sprinted for the passage as Finn laid down additional fire. Zara followed, ignoring the white-hot flare of pain in her legs.
They burst through the narrow passage onto a street packed with pedestrians and the vibrant chaos of Singapore’s night market, plunging into the crowd, weaving between food stalls and trinket vendors.
“—need to separate,” Shen gasped as they ducked behind hanging lanterns. “They’ll scan for three targets moving together.”
She nodded. “Secondary rendezvous. Twenty-two hundred.”
Shen vanished into the crowd, instantly becoming another face in thousands. Finn caught her eye, tilting his head toward a side street that would take them away from the market’s main thoroughfare.
They moved with practiced coordination, changing direction, doubling back, using the dense crowds as cover. Every few minutes, Zara spotted their pursuers—trained killers trying to maintain visual while navigating the packed market.
After fifteen minutes of calculated evasion, they slipped into a small temple nestled between modern skyscrapers. The shift from market chaos to quiet sanctuary hit like a physical wave. Incense hung heavy in the air. A handful of worshippers knelt in prayer, paying the newcomers no attention.
Zara found a darkened alcove, controlling her breathing despite the exertion.
“Too close,” Finn whispered, positioning himself to watch the entrance. “They were waiting for us.”
“Yeah.” The implication settled like ice in her stomach. “Either Shen set us up, or?—”
“Or Harrison’s dirty,” Finn finished. “If he suspected we were questioning his loyalty, he might have anticipated we’d contact Shen.”
She leaned back against cool stone, letting it support her as she processed both the physical pain and the troubling possibilities. The evidence against her mentor was stacking up, getting way harder to dismiss as fabrication.
“We assume maximum compromise,” she said finally. “No electronics, no established safe houses, no predictable moves.”
Finn nodded. “And we need to decode what ‘Winterfell Protocol’ means. That could be the key to our boy’s involvement.”
Outside, sirens wailed as security forces expanded their search. Inside the temple, Zara closed her eyes briefly, the scent of incense cutting through her focus.
When she opened them, she found Finn watching her—not with the calculating gaze of an operator assessing a liability, but with genuine concern.
“Flare up?” he asked quietly.
She started to deny it, then stopped herself. “Yes.”
Seven years ago, she would have hidden any weakness. Now, surrounded by enemies in a foreign city, she didn’t have that luxury.
Neither did he.
