For a moment, no one in the diner moved.
Not the waitress behind the counter.
Not the trucker halfway through his coffee.
Not even the neon buzzing overhead.
All eyes drifted—slowly, carefully—toward the booth.
Ethan Mercer didn’t rush her.
“Start with your name,” he said quietly.
The girl hesitated, fingers tightening around the edge of the table.
“…Lena.”
Ethan gave a small nod. “Alright, Lena.”
Across from her, Caleb ‘Brick’ Dawson had already opened the backpack just enough to see inside.
Then he stopped.
Completely.
That alone said everything.
Ethan noticed. “What is it?”
Brick didn’t answer right away.
Instead, he slowly reached in… and pulled something out.
A stack of papers.
Thick.
Clipped together.
Marked.
Not schoolwork. Not random notes.
Official.
Ethan took them, flipping through just a few pages before his expression hardened.
Names.
Photos.
Routes.
Numbers that didn’t belong in a child’s bag.
He looked up at Lena again—this time differently.
“Where did you get these?”
She swallowed.
“My mom gave them to me,” she said. “She told me if anything happened… I had to run. And find someone who wouldn’t ask questions first.”
Ethan exhaled slowly.
“That explains the opening line,” he muttered.
Brick reached into the bag again.
“There’s more.”
He pulled out a small device this time—black, scratched, blinking faintly.
A tracker.
Active.
Ethan’s eyes snapped to it.
“How long has that been in there?”
Lena shook her head. “I don’t know. She packed the bag.”
Brick’s voice dropped lower. “Then they already know where she is.”
That changed everything.
Ethan stood up immediately.
“Everybody out,” he said—not loud, but sharp enough to cut through the entire diner.
People didn’t argue.
They moved.
Fast.
Chairs scraped. Bills were dropped. The room emptied in seconds, instinct kicking in before understanding.
The waitress hesitated.
Ethan looked at her once.
“Now.”
She left.
The bell above the door rang again—this time as the last person stepped out.
Silence.
Real silence.
Ethan turned back to Lena and crouched slightly so he was at her level.
“Listen to me carefully,” he said. “Did your mom say who was coming?”
Lena nodded faintly.
“She said… if they found me first…” Her voice shook. “They wouldn’t ask questions.”
Brick cracked his neck once, slow and deliberate.
“Figures.”
Ethan glanced at the tracker again.
Still blinking.
Still broadcasting.
“How long since you got here?” he asked.
“Five minutes,” Lena whispered.
Ethan did the math instantly.
Too close.
“Brick,” he said.
“Yeah.”
“Kill it.”
Brick didn’t hesitate. He crushed the device under his boot, grinding it into the tile until the blinking stopped.
But Ethan didn’t relax.
Because it was already too late for that.
Outside—
Headlights appeared.
One.
Then two.
Then more.
Engines cutting through the quiet desert night.
Lena’s breath hitched. “That’s them.”
Ethan stood slowly, his expression going still in a way that meant something dangerous had settled into place.
“Alright,” he said.
No panic. No rush.
Just decision.
He slid the papers back into the bag and handed it to Brick.
“Get her out the back.”
Brick nodded.
Lena grabbed Ethan’s sleeve suddenly. “What about you?”
He looked down at her—just for a second.
“I’ll make sure they don’t follow.”
The front doors of the diner swung open.
Boots stepped in.
Heavy.
Confident.
Too confident.
Ethan turned toward them, already moving.
Because whatever Lena had carried into that diner—
Wasn’t just information.
It was a target.
And now…
So was he.