The rain had stopped hours ago, but the streets still shone with leftover water, catching the reflection of every passing light. Lian crouched on the edge of a rooftop across from a glass tower in Sheung Wan, her dark jacket pulled tight against the breeze.

  Below her, the broker’s office glowed with soft white light. Most of the city was asleep, but the man they were here for wasn’t. People like him rarely slept well.

  Kai adjusted the focus on his small drone, his fingers moving with the casual rhythm of someone tuning an instrument. “Motion sensors active on the second floor,” he said. “Two guards in the lobby, one outside smoking. You’ll want to move at 02:13 — that’s your clean window.”

  “Got it,” Lian said.

  He glanced up at her from his perch beside the vent. “You’re quiet tonight.”

  “I’m working,” she replied.

  “You’re always working.”

  Lian smiled slightly without looking at him. “And yet you’re always talking.”

  “Somebody has to fill the silence.”

  “Maybe let it breathe once in a while.”

  Kai chuckled softly and leaned back. “Alright. Silent mode activated.”

  The drone buzzed near the windows, capturing the broker at his desk. He was a heavy man in a white shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows, counting stacks of cash. Two phones lay beside him, both blinking. A woman in a pencil skirt entered, set down a folder, and left without a word.

  Kai zoomed in on the monitor. “Guy moves like he owns the whole damn city.”

  Lian checked the time. “In ten minutes, he won’t.”

  They made their descent like shadows slipping through cracks. The fire escape creaked once, just enough to make Kai freeze. Lian’s hand shot up — a silent signal to stop.

  They waited.

  The sound of distant traffic filled the air. Nothing else.

  Lian gestured again, and they continued down.

  At the alley entrance, a lone security guard stood beneath a flickering lamp, smoke curling from his cigarette. Kai nudged his sister. “You want me to handle him?”

  Lian studied the man. His uniform was too big, his shoes scuffed, his eyes tired. “He’s just doing his job. I’ll distract him.”

  “You sure?”

  “Always.”

  She stepped out of the shadow, her movements casual. The guard straightened, startled but not alarmed.

  “Sorry,” she said softly. “Do you know where the metro entrance is? I think I took a wrong turn.”

  Her Cantonese was perfect, smooth, with just the right touch of fatigue. The guard blinked, confused, then pointed down the street. “Go left, then two blocks down. You’ll see the signs.”

  “Thanks,” she said.

  When his gaze followed her hand as she adjusted her jacket, Kai stepped out silently behind him, one swift strike to the side of the neck. The man slumped, unconscious before he hit the ground.

  Kai caught him gently and eased him down beside the wall. “He’ll wake up with a headache.”

  Lian gave a brief nod. “Good.”

  They entered through the maintenance door Kai had unlocked remotely. The hum of the building wrapped around them — air vents, electricity, the faint buzz of the security panel.

  “Cameras looping,” Kai said. “We’ve got six minutes before it resets.”

  Lian moved first, her steps soundless across the marble floor. Her reflection trailed her in the darkened glass.

  They passed framed photographs — the broker shaking hands with men in suits, cutting ribbons at charity events, smiling for cameras. His smile didn’t reach his eyes.

  Lian pushed the office door open just enough to see inside. The man was still there, his tie loosened, his fingers busy over a calculator.

  Kai crouched beside her, whispering. “Two guards on the right. Armed. Probably personal detail. I can cut the lights, but we’ll need to move fast.”

  “Do it.”

  He tapped his wrist console. The office plunged into darkness.

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  The guards swore, fumbling for flashlights. Lian was already inside.

  Her blade flickered once — a quiet movement, almost elegant. The first guard fell without a sound. The second raised his weapon, but Kai’s silenced shot dropped him before he could aim.

  The broker froze, hands raised instinctively. “Who are you? Take the money, just don’t—”

  Lian crossed the room slowly. “You’ve been laundering ransom payments through Ailon Holdings.”

  His eyes darted wildly. “I don’t know what that is—”

  Kai picked up one of the phones on the desk. “Then you might want to tell your assistant she’s using it as the account name.”

  The broker swallowed. “I only move the numbers. I don’t ask questions.”

  “That’s the problem,” Lian said.

  “I have records,” he said quickly. “If you want proof, I can show you.”

  “Show me,” Lian said.

  He turned to the computer, hands trembling. “There. That’s everything. Every transfer, every account.”

  Kai plugged in a small drive. “Downloading now.”

  Lian’s voice softened. “You could have walked away from this years ago.”

  The man shook his head. “There’s no walking away. Not from people like them.”

  “Who?” she asked.

  He hesitated. “They call themselves LSK. I don’t know what it stands for. They handle the offshore payments. They—”

  The glass behind him shattered. A single shot.

  Lian moved on instinct, pulling Kai down. The broker slumped forward onto his desk, blood spreading across the papers.

  Kai rolled toward the window, spotting the glint of a scope across the street. “Sniper.”

  “Move,” Lian ordered.

  They darted toward the back exit as more rounds cracked through the glass. The sound was clean, practiced, distant.

  “Who the hell knows we’re here?” Kai hissed.

  “I don’t know,” Lian said. “Keep low.”

  They burst into the stairwell. The echo of their footsteps mixed with the ringing in their ears.

  Kai checked his wrist monitor. “I’m locking down the elevator systems. They’ll have to come up manually.”

  “Good,” Lian said. “We leave through the roof.”

  “Roof?”

  “Trust me.”

  They climbed fast, hearts hammering. The wind hit them as they pushed the door open, sweeping across the rooftop. Lian scanned the opposite building. “Top floor, southwest corner. Shooter’s there.”

  Kai followed her gaze. “That’s at least a hundred meters.”

  “Then aim straight.”

  He pulled his compact rifle from his pack, bracing it against the ledge. “You sure about this?”

  Lian steadied his arm. “I trust your aim.”

  Kai exhaled slowly, squeezed the trigger once. The shot echoed between the towers, then faded.

  The glint across the street disappeared.

  “Got him,” he said.

  “Move,” Lian said. “They’ll send others.”

  They rappelled down the far side of the building, the ropes hissing softly through their gloves. The alley below was narrow, filled with steam from a nearby vent.

  Kai landed beside her, unhooked his line, and scanned the area. “Clear.”

  Lian exhaled. “That was too clean to be random.”

  “Someone tipped them?”

  “Maybe. Or maybe we weren’t the only ones tracking that money.”

  They moved fast, cutting through backstreets until the noise of the city swallowed them again.

  By the time they reached the safehouse, the sky was turning pale. Mei was already there, sitting at the table with a mug of tea.

  “You’re early,” she said.

  Lian tossed her gloves onto the counter. “Plans changed.”

  Mei glanced at the smear of blood on Lian’s sleeve. “What happened?”

  “Sniper. Across the street.”

  Mei frowned. “That’s not standard police response.”

  “No,” Lian said. “It wasn’t.”

  Kai sat heavily in the chair, dropping the drive on the table. “We got the data though.”

  “Let me see,” Mei said, connecting it to her laptop. Lines of encrypted code filled the screen. She frowned. “These aren’t normal offshore accounts. They’re routed through ghost companies. And look here — health research grants?”

  “Medical front,” Kai said. “That’s new.”

  Lian leaned over her shoulder. “Can you trace it?”

  “Eventually,” Mei said. “But it’ll take time. Whoever built this system knew what they were doing.”

  Kai rubbed his temples. “We just wanted a clean job. Why does it always turn into this?”

  “Because nothing’s clean,” Lian said.

  The kettle whistled softly. Mei poured more tea, setting the cup in front of Lian. “Drink,” she said.

  Lian did. The warmth steadied her.

  Kai leaned back, exhaustion written all over him. “So, what now? We dig, or we disappear for a bit?”

  Mei typed another command. “There’s something else here. A name. Dr. Huang.”

  Lian froze. “You sure?”

  “Yes. He’s listed under one of the transfer recipients. Looks like he’s tied to a biotech firm.”

  Kai frowned. “You think he’s another middleman?”

  Mei looked between them. “You want me to find out who he is?”

  “Yes,” Lian said. “Discreetly.”

  Kai reached for his coffee. “At least we know someone else is interested in this. Whoever fired those shots wasn’t just cleaning up.”

  “Maybe they were warning us,” Mei said.

  “Then we heard it loud and clear,” Kai replied.

  Lian stood. “Get some rest. Both of you. I’ll take first watch.”

  Kai didn’t argue.

  Hours later, when the others were asleep, Lian sat by the window again. The city stretched out beneath her — restless, bright, impossible to understand.

  She thought about the broker’s last words. There’s no walking away.

  He had been right.

  And she and Kai were still here, in the middle of it, because they didn’t know how to stop.

  The rain began again, light this time, tracing silver lines down the glass.

  Lian closed her eyes for a moment, just listening.