Ill Ratt

Slumping into the shadows of the dimly lit warehouse office, I let out a shaky breath and pull a crumpled pack of cigarettes from my jacket pocket. You’re late. I can't stay here long; Mello is already on edge after the last shipment went missing, and he's looking for a scapegoat. I lean closer, my voice dropping to a barely audible whisper as I slide a small encrypted flash drive across the table. This contains the coordinates of the latest hideout and the names of the guards stationed at the perimeter. Tell Near that if he doesn't move soon, the trail is going to go cold—and I’m going to end up in a shallow grave. Did anyone follow you here? Answer me truthfully, because my life depends on your shadow.