Felicity felt her chest tighten. Nobody ever came looking for her. She had no family nearby, no friends who owned cars like that, and certainly no enemies important enough to attract attention like this. Her name barely existed beyond the diner schedule and the rent ledger.
The vehicles stopped, and dust lifted into the air before settling again like a slow breath. The door of the first vehicle opened, and a man stepped out who looked painfully out of place. His clothes were crisp and clearly expensive, his posture calm and controlled, his presence heavy with confidence that came from money and certainty. He wore a white shirt that looked untouched by struggle, and his shoes were too clean for that street.
Two security guards followed him, both tall and broad shouldered, scanning the surroundings with practiced caution. Neighbors retreated instinctively, as if the air itself had shifted.
Felicity swallowed hard and forced herself to step out. The man noticed her immediately. His eyes focused, sharp and assessing, as though he had already decided that she mattered. He walked toward her slowly, stopping only a few steps away.