The street was dark. The streetlights here were yellow and dim, casting long, skeletal shadows against the brick walls of the warehouses.
Faith walked fast, her keys clutched between her knuckles-a pathetic weapon, but the only one she had.
She heard footsteps behind her.
She sped up.
The footsteps sped up. Heavy boots. Professional gait.
Faith's heart hammered against her ribs. She turned the corner toward the bus stop, hoping to see people.
It was empty.
A figure stepped out from the alleyway ahead of her, blocking her path.
"Miss Neal."
The voice was smooth, mechanical.
Not a drug dealer. A professional.
He stepped into the light. He looked generic. Grey suit, earpiece, dead eyes.
"Who are you?" Faith said, her voice trembling.
"Mr. Black sent me," the man said. Black was the Head of Security for the rival faction on the Board. "He wants the encryption keys for the logistics override. And the location of the asset."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"We know you're Oracle," the man spat, stepping closer. "And we know about the boy. Give us the keys, and maybe we leave the kid alone."
"You stay away from him!" Faith backed away, but she bumped into the brick wall. Trapped.
The man's face twisted. The desperation took over. "I'm not asking, Miss Neal."
He pulled a knife from his pocket. A military-grade tactical blade. Click. The blade glinted in the dim light.
Faith stopped breathing.
"Give me your phone," he demanded. "Unlock it. Transfer the data. Now."
"Please. I can't."
"DO IT!" he screamed, lunging forward. He grabbed her hoodie, slamming her against the bricks.
Faith cried out as her head hit the wall. The knife was inches from her face.
"I'll cut you," he hissed. "I swear to God, Faith, I'll cut that pretty face and see if Hampton wants you then."
Faith squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the pain. This is it. This is my life.
Thwack.
A sound like a rock hitting a melon.
The man screamed.
The weight on her chest vanished.
Faith opened her eyes.
The mercenary was on the ground, clutching his hand. The knife lay in the gutter.
Earl stood over him.
He hadn't made a sound. He had moved like a ghost.
Earl didn't look at Faith. He was focused entirely on the attacker. He reached down, grabbed him by the collar of his suit jacket, and hauled him to his feet with one hand.
"Who are you?" the man shrieked, swinging a wild punch.
Earl caught the fist. He twisted.
Crack.
The man howled, his knees buckling. Earl didn't let him fall. He slammed him against the wall, pinning him there with a forearm across the throat.
"Listen to me," Earl said. His voice was terrifyingly calm. No anger. Just cold, hard facts. "Tell Black that if he sends another contractor... If I ever see your shadow within a mile of her..."
He leaned in close.
"I will dismantle his entire division. And I will bury you in it."
The man gurgled, clawing at Earl's arm. His eyes were bulging with terror. He nodded frantically.
Earl stepped back. He dropped him.
"Run," Earl said.
The mercenary didn't need to be told twice. He scrambled up, cradling his broken wrist, and sprinted into the darkness, sobbing.
Silence returned to the street.
Faith slid down the wall, her legs giving out.
Earl was there instantly. He knelt in front of her. The monster who had just broken a man's arm vanished. His hands were gentle as he cupped her face.
"Faith," he said. "Look at me. Are you hurt?"
Faith shook her head. She couldn't speak. The adrenaline was crashing, leaving her shaking violently.
"He... he had a knife... He knew about Oracle... He knew about..."
"I know. It's gone. He's gone."
"The Board will come back. They always come back."
"No," Earl said firmly. "They won't. I promise."
He pulled her into his arms. He smelled of leather and safety. Faith buried her face in his chest, clutching his shirt.
"I tried to tell you," she sobbed. "I'm a liability."
Earl wrapped his arms around her, lifting her off the dirty pavement as if she weighed nothing. He held her tight, rocking her slightly. He winced slightly as his injured leg took the weight, but he didn't falter.
"You're not a liability," he whispered into her hair. "You're mine."
He pulled back slightly, wiping a tear from her cheek with his thumb.
"Come home with me, Faith. Let me do my job. Let me protect you. And let me meet my son."
Faith looked at him. She looked at the dark alley where the threat had disappeared. She looked at the man who had walked through fire to find her.
She was done running. She needed a partner. She needed a Crisis Manager of her own.
"Okay," she whispered. "Take me home."
