"Target already on the road," a man sitting across the street on one of the roofs of a building said. His voice was a low, mechanical monotone, devoid of any emotion.
He held his phone pressed tightly across his ears as he steadied the professional-grade camera in his hand, the lens tracking the silver glint of a car pulling out of the garage. "Target alone. No tail. The plan is in motion."
Inside the kitchen, the world had already shattered for Alina. The happiness that had filled the room only an hour ago, while she and Damian laughed over website names and future dreams, had been replaced by a suffocating, icy fright.
The phone felt like a block of dry ice in her palm, the image of Kelvin burned into her retina. Without any word of explanation, she zapped past Damian, who was still sitting on the couch exactly where she had left him. Her eyes were wide, her breathing shallow, and she moved in a jiffy that left no room for questions or hesitation.
