The man from the sedan moved first.
Not fast.
Not slow.
Certain.
Noah recognized the gait immediately.
Balanced.
Centered.
No wasted motion.
"…Of course," he thought.
"…You didn't send amateurs."
The man stopped two meters away.
Close enough to strike.
Far enough to pretend this was a conversation.
"You shouldn't be here," the man said.
No accent.
No threat.
Statement of fact.
Noah smiled faintly.
"I get that a lot."
The Test Begins
The man lifted his hand—not a weapon.
A gesture.
Casual.
Friendly.
Wrong.
Noah reacted on instinct.
Too late.
The strike wasn't aimed at his face.
It was aimed at his balance.
Pain exploded up his leg as something clipped behind his knee.
He went down hard.
Concrete bit into his shoulder.
Air left his lungs in a sharp, useless gasp.
"…Still testing," Noah realized dimly.
"…They want to see if I'm worth killing."
Aria Sees Everything
She was already moving.
The world narrowed.
The city vanished.
All that existed was distance, angle, timing.
The man lifted his foot.
Not to finish Noah.
To measure.
Aria crossed the distance in four steps.
No sprint.
No shout.
Her hand closed around his wrist mid-motion.
Contact
The man froze.
Not because of pain.
Because recognition landed like a hammer.
"…No," he breathed.
Too late.
Aria twisted.
A clean, brutal motion.
Joint reversed.
Structure failed.
The sound was wet.
Final.
The man screamed.
The Street Breaks
Everything happened at once.
The second door of the sedan opened.
Aria moved.
Her elbow struck a throat before words formed.
Her knee followed.
Another body dropped.
No hesitation.
No mercy.
This wasn't performance.
This was erasure.
Noah Watches Her Fall Back Into It
From the ground, vision swimming, Noah saw her clearly.
Not the actress.
Not the woman smiling for cameras.
The one who moved like violence was a language she had never forgotten.
"…I'm sorry," he croaked.
She didn't look at him.
Didn't answer.
She was busy ending the test.
The Last One Hesitates
The driver stayed in the car.
Smart.
Aria turned her head slowly.
Looked straight through the windshield.
The driver met her eyes.
And understood exactly how close he was to dying.
The car peeled away.
Tires screamed.
Gone.
Aftermath
Silence slammed down.
The bodies didn't move.
Noah tried to sit up.
Failed.
Pain screamed through his side.
"…You crossed it," Aria said at last.
Her voice was flat.
Controlled.
Furious.
"I know," Noah whispered.
"…I had to."
She turned on him.
Eyes cold enough to cut.
"No," she said.
"You wanted to."
The Truth He Can't Deny
She crouched beside him.
Checked his breathing.
His pupils.
Professional.
Efficient.
"You wanted proof," she continued.
"So you let them almost kill you."
Noah met her gaze.
"…Did it work?"
She didn't answer.
She stood.
Looked at the street.
The cameras.
The inevitable consequences.
"…Yes," she said quietly.
"It worked."
Closing Beat
Sirens sounded in the distance.
Too far.
Too late.
Aria hauled Noah to his feet.
His weight sagged against her.
"…You don't get to do that again," she said.
Noah laughed weakly.
"…You came anyway."
She tightened her grip.
"Because you fell."
And as she dragged him toward the shadows, one truth burned clear and irreversible:
The test had been meant to classify Noah.
Instead—
It had exposed her.
And the people who had sent that sedan would not need another test.
They had their answer.