The van reeked of damp clothes, fear, and the faint metallic smell of blood that clung to Lian’s jacket. They had pulled over near a shuttered noodle shop in Sham Shui Po, where the back alley gave enough cover to unload without drawing stares.
Kai shut off the engine, his hands trembling for the first time since they left the docks. The children were silent and pressed close together on the benches, eyes wide at the strange city around them.
“Out,” Lian said softly. She slid the door open, the humid air rushing in, carrying the scent of garbage and rain. “One at a time.”
A small girl hesitated, clutching the edge of her sleeve. Lian crouched, meeting her gaze. “You’re safe,” she said again. “Follow me.”
The girl stepped down, bare feet slapping against wet concrete. One by one, the others followed, shuffling close.
At the end of the alley, a man was waiting. He wore a black raincoat, hood pulled low, but his face was familiar to both siblings. An old contact of Kai’s, someone who ran safe houses. He didn’t ask questions, and that was why they trusted him.
“They’ll be cared for,” he said, voice rough.
Kai nodded, slipping him a packet of cash. “Keep them off the radar.”
The man didn’t answer. He guided the children out of sight, his coat billowing behind him.
Lian exhaled slowly, stretching her shoulders. Her muscles still twitch with the leftover rush of adrenaline.
Kai leaned back against the van, staring at the wet pavement. “That was close.”
She glanced at him, tilting her head. “You’re shaking.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.”
His mouth twitched, almost a smile. “Neither are you.”
Lian wiped at her jacket with the edge of a rag. The blood smeared darker. She gave up and tossed it aside. “Close enough,” she muttered.
They stood there for a moment, letting the night quiet sink in.
Kai finally pushed off the van. “We can’t stay here. If anyone followed…”
“No one followed,” Lian said flatly.
“Still.”
She didn’t argue. They climbed back into the van, the seats empty now.
By morning, they were back in Mong Kok. The streets pulsed with life again, stalls opening, vendors calling out, steam rising from woks. Normal people doing normal things. Lian walked among them with a paper bag of fried dough sticks, chewing absently. Kai sipped at a plastic cup of soy milk, eyes hidden behind cheap sunglasses.
“Still thinking about last night?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Always.”
“Me too.”
They turned into a narrow shop, the kind that sold everything from SIM cards to cheap headphones. Inside, the air smelled of dust and plastic. Kai set a drive on the counter. The shopkeeper, an older woman with sharp eyes, took it without a word, disappearing into the back.
Stolen novel; please report.
“She’ll clean it?” Lian asked.
Kai nodded. “Anything we pulled from the cameras, she scrubs the trail. Same deal as always.”
Lian leaned against the counter, watching the doorway. Her hand rested lightly on the hilt of her knife.
The shopkeeper returned with a small envelope. Kai slipped it open, pulling out a fresh SIM card and a folded slip of paper.
“What is it?” Lian asked.
“License plate. One of the trucks from last night.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Driver?”
“Could be more.”
They left the shop, blending back into the tide of people. The slip of paper burned in Kai’s pocket, the lead pulling them forward before either had time to think.
The plate traced back to a small logistics company, tucked between garages and repair shops near Yau Ma Tei. The building was three stories of gray concrete, paint peeling, and windows grimy.
Lian parked two blocks away and turned off her engine. She adjusted her gloves, scanning the street.
Kai sat with the laptop open. “Surveillance is light. Two cameras outside, one at the gate.”
“Men?”
“Hard to say, the activity is low. Could be empty and vice versa.”
She opened the door, stepping out. “We find out.”
The air was thick with oil and exhaust fumes. Trucks lined the street, their sides streaked with rust. A stray dog nosed through a pile of garbage, growling softly.
Lian moved fast, cutting through the alley until she reached the gate. She crouched, scanning. No movement. She slipped inside.
The yard smelled of grease and rain. Broken pallets leaned against the wall, puddles reflecting the gray sky. She approached the warehouse door, pressing an ear against it.
Muffled voices.
She eased the door open a crack. Inside, men sat around a table, bottles scattered, cards in their hands. Their rifles leaned against the wall behind them.
Lian’s lips curved faintly. Careless.
She pushed the door wider and slipped inside. The first man never looked up. Her knife kissed his throat before he could draw breath, the blood spilling onto the cards.
The others jolted, chairs scraping back, curses erupting. One reached for his rifle, but she was already there, blade sinking into his side. Another lunged, grabbing her arm. She twisted, elbow cracking against his jaw, knife flashing into his chest.
Gunfire erupted, deafening in the enclosed space. She dropped low, rolling under the table, flipping it in one motion. Bottles shattered, liquid spreading across the floor.
The last man fired wildly, bullets sparking against metal. She waited until his magazine clicked empty, then rose, moving fast. The knife plunged under his chin, silencing him.
Breathing hard, she stood still, blood dripping from the blade. The room reeked of gunpowder, liquor, and death.
Kai’s voice crackled in her ear. “What happened?”
“Four down,” she said.
“Check the office.”
She moved through the warehouse, boots squelching on the wet floor. At the back, a small office door hung slightly open. She nudged it wider, knife ready.
Inside, papers were scattered across the desk. Invoices, shipping forms, ledgers. Lian flipped through them quickly, her eyes narrowing. Names, numbers, routes. A map of the harbor with certain warehouses circled in red.
“Got something,” she murmured.
“Bring it.”
She folded the map, shoved it into her jacket, and left the office. Her knife dripped onto the floor, leaving small red dots behind her.
Back in the van, Kai spread the papers across the dashboard.
“These aren’t random shipments,” he said. “These are routes. ”
Lian leaned over, pointing at the circled spots. “Safe houses?”
“More like holding points where they move people from one to the next.”
Her hand curled into a fist. “We shut them down.”
Kai hesitated, eyes looking up at her. “There’s too many for just us.”
She met his gaze, unblinking. “We’ll start with one.”
She sat back, closing her eyes for a brief moment. Her chest rose and fell slowly, the adrenaline fading into something heavier.
Kai tapped the papers, jaw tight. “Next one’s in To Kwa Wan.”
Her eyes opened again. “Then we move.”
The van rumbled to life, pulling back into the current of traffic. The city swallowed them once more.
