Chapter 30 After the Switch
The lights did not come back on.
Darkness swallowed the garage whole, thick and absolute, broken only by the echo of alarms screaming somewhere above them. Mila’s breath tore from her chest as Ethan pulled her forward, his grip iron-tight around her wrist.
“Don’t slow,” he said.
She couldn’t see him, but she could feel him, his movement precise, controlled, guiding her between parked cars and concrete pillars by instinct alone. Her shoes slapped against the ground, sound ricocheting, giving them away with every step.
Behind them, engines revved.
Headlights snapped on all at once.
White light exploded across the garage.
Mila cried out as Ethan yanked her sideways, dragging her behind a thick pillar just as gunfire cracked through the air. Concrete burst inches from her face, dust and fragments stinging her skin.
They pressed into the shadow, bodies tight together.
Ethan leaned close. “When I say run, you don’t look back.”
Her heart slammed. She nodded, even though he couldn’t see it.
The alarms cut off abruptly.
Silence rushed in heavy, unnatural.
Then slow applause echoed through the garage.
“Well played,” the handler’s voice drifted through the dark. Calm again. Amused. “You always liked theatrics.”
Mila’s stomach twisted.
Ethan shifted his stance, blocking her completely now.
“You triggered a building-wide lockdown,” the handler continued. “Sprinklers. Power cut. Emergency protocols. Very clever.”
Mila swallowed. Rainwater dripped from her hair to the concrete.
“But you didn’t think it through,” he said. “You trapped yourselves in with me.”
Footsteps moved. Slow. Unhurried.
Headlights swept the garage, searching.
Ethan’s fingers tightened briefly against her wrist, a silent question.
She leaned close, barely breathing. “There’s a service exit,” she whispered. “East side. Manual latch.”
His head dipped once.
A shadow crossed the light beam.
Ethan moved.
He shoved Mila forward and sprinted the opposite direction, boots pounding loudly across open concrete.
“Ethan!” she gasped.
Gunfire erupted instantly, tracking him. Shouts followed.
Mila didn’t think.
She ran.
Her lungs burned as she sprinted between rows of cars, ducking low, hands scraping against metal, bruising. The world narrowed to breath and sound and survival.
She reached the east wall.
Her fingers found the latch cold, stiff, resisting. She yanked once. Twice.
Footsteps thundered behind her.
“Stop!” someone shouted.
She threw her weight into it.
The door burst open, dumping her into the rain-slick alley beyond. She stumbled, caught herself, then kept running as the door slammed shut behind her.
Rain hit her face like needles.
She didn’t stop until her lungs screamed and her legs threatened to fold.
Only then did she realise
Ethan wasn’t with her.
Her heart seized.
She spun back toward the door.
Gunfire cracked again, muffled now, distant.
“No,” she whispered. “No, no, no.”
She pressed her palm against the cold metal, chest heaving.
A crash echoed inside.
Then silence.
Seconds stretched into something unbearable.
She was about to rip the door open when it burst outward.
Ethan staggered through.
Blood darkened his sleeve.
Mila caught him as his knees buckled, her arms barely strong enough to hold his weight.
“Ethan,” she breathed. “You’re bleeding.”
“It’s not bad,” he said through clenched teeth, though his face was pale. “We need to move.”
Sirens wailed in the distance, now real ones.
They staggered down the alley together, rain plastering them both, until Ethan braced himself against a brick wall, breathing hard.
Mila pressed her hands over the wound, panic rising. “You got shot.”
“Grazed,” he said. “Focus.”
She ripped a strip from her soaked jacket and tied it tight around his arm, hands shaking.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” she said. “You drew them away.”
“I wasn’t letting them corner you.”
Her throat tightened.
“Your ‘insurance,’” he said. “What exactly did you trigger?”
She hesitated.
Then sirens cut closer, too close.
“Not police,” Ethan said sharply. “Listen.”
She did.
The sound was wrong. Too controlled. Too fast.
Her handler’s resources.
Ethan grabbed her hand again. “We’re out of time.”
They moved deeper into the alley network, slipping through shadows, ducking under fire escapes, until the city noise swallowed them.
They reached an abandoned storefront, its windows boarded, door half-rotted.
Ethan forced it open.
Inside, it smelled like dust and oil and old paper.
They collapsed just inside, backs to the wall, listening.
Mila’s heart pounded so hard she thought it might give them away.
“You still haven’t answered me,” Ethan said quietly. “What did you set off?”
She looked at him, then really looked.
Blood streaked his arm. Rain clung to his hair. His eyes were sharp, burning with questions.
“I released the files,” she said. “Everything.”
His expression didn’t change, but something in his gaze sharpened.
“To whom?” he asked.
“Everyone,” she said. “Press. Watchdogs. The people they buried cases against.”
Silence stretched.
“That’s not insurance,” Ethan said. “That’s war.”
“I know.”
Outside, engines passed. Voices shouted. The search was spreading.
“They’ll burn everything to contain it,” Ethan said.
“They already tried to burn me,” Mila replied.
A low sound escaped him, not quite a laugh.
“Then they won’t stop,” he said. “Not now.”
She nodded. “Neither will I.”
A phone vibrated in her pocket.
They both froze.
She pulled it out slowly.
Unknown number.
Then another vibration.
And another.
Messages stacked rapidly across the screen.
Ethan leaned closer.
Her breath hitched as she read the first one.
YOU SHOULD HAVE STAYED GONE.
Then another.
THIS ENDS WITH YOU.
Her phone rang.
She stared at the screen, rainwater dripping from her chin onto cracked tile.
Ethan’s jaw tightened. “Don’t answer.”
The phone stopped ringing.
Then vibrated again.
A photo is loaded.
Mila’s blood ran cold.
It was her apartment.
Lights on.
Door open.
Someone inside.
She sucked in a sharp, broken breath.
“They were already there,” she whispered.
Ethan swore under his breath.
The message beneath the photo appeared slowly, deliberately.
COME HOME.
Mila looked up at Ethan, fear and fury colliding in her chest.
“They know where I live,” she said.
Ethan’s gaze hardened, something dangerous settling into place.
“Then we don’t run anymore,” he said.
Outside, sirens converged.
And somewhere in the city, a door creaked open.