Kai didn't go straight to the pinned location.
That would've been too easy.
Instead, he moved—changed routes, blended into movement, crossed areas he knew were saturated with cameras and others that weren't. If someone was tracking his phone, he wanted them confused. If someone was watching him physically, he wanted confirmation.
He got neither.
Which told him something worse.
The location pin wasn't bait for surveillance.
It was an invitation.
By the time Kai reached the edge of the district, the night had deepened. Fewer cars. Fewer people. The kind of quiet that made every sound feel intentional. He slowed as the pin drew closer, scanning angles, entry points, exits.
An old office block came into view. Half-lit. Renovation stalled. One security light flickered near the side entrance.
Kai stopped across the street and watched.
Two minutes passed.
Then the side door opened.
A woman stepped out.
She didn't look armed. No obvious tension in her posture. She wore a jacket that looked too normal for the place, hands tucked into the pockets like she was waiting for someone who was late.
She spotted him immediately.
"You're punctual," she said, voice calm.
"I wasn't sure this was real," Kai replied.
She nodded. "That's fair."
Kai didn't move closer yet. "You work for him?"
She hesitated. Just enough.
"I work near him," she said. "Which is different."
"That depends on who's asking."
She studied him, then sighed. "You ask too many questions for someone trying to stay alive."
"And you talk too freely for someone who wants control," Kai shot back.
A corner of her mouth lifted. "Good. Then we won't waste time."
She stepped aside and held the door open.
Kai followed her inside.
The interior smelled like dust and old wiring. Empty offices stretched down a corridor, stripped bare, floors marked with footprints that didn't belong to workers.
They stopped near a window overlooking the street.
"You're not supposed to be involved," she said. "That's the truth."
"Then stop involving me."
She looked at him. Really looked this time. "You were involved the moment you noticed the pattern."
Kai didn't deny it.
"There are layers here," she continued. "You've seen one. Maybe two. The people you met tonight? They're not the top."
"I figured."
"They're containment," she said. "Damage control. You're the damage."
Kai folded his arms. "Then why warn me at all?"
"Because eliminating you creates noise," she said. "And noise attracts attention neither side wants right now."
"Both sides," Kai repeated. "So there is a split."
Her silence answered him.
Kai stepped closer. "What do you want from me?"
She met his gaze. "Nothing yet."
He almost laughed. "That's not how this works."
"It is when timing matters," she replied. "Right now, you're a variable. Too dangerous to remove. Too useful to ignore."
"And later?"
She looked away. "Later depends on what you do next."
Kai absorbed that.
"You said layers," he said. "Who's pulling the top one?"
She shook her head. "Not my piece to give."
"So why meet me?"
She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small drive.
"Because you're going to keep digging whether we help you or not," she said. "And because when this breaks, it's going to break hard."
She placed the drive on the table between them.
"This," she added, "is the second thread."
Kai stared at it.
"What happens if I take it?"
She didn't answer immediately.
"Then the countdown becomes mutual," she said finally.
Kai picked up the drive.
"Good," he said. "I don't like games where only one side's allowed to move."
She nodded once.
"Be careful," she said. "You're closer to the center than you think."
Kai turned toward the exit.
"And you," he replied, "should stop pretending you're not already in this."
Outside, the night swallowed him again.
The drive felt heavier than it should've.
And somewhere above all of this—above warnings, threats, and tests—something had just shifted.