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“Still clear,” comes the immediate response through our earpieces.

“Fine,” I pull out my phone again, opening the camera app.

“Wait,” Alex says, holding up a hand. “Use my phone instead. Less chance of it being traced.” He tosses me a sleek black device that looks military-grade.

As Alex carefully rolls Ricky back over, I snap several clear shots of the man's face, contorted in death.

“Hands, too,” Alex reminds me.

I photograph each hand, noting the defensive wounds across his palms and fingers. He'd fought back, at least.

“This wasn't just a hit,” I say, handing Alex back his phone. “This was a message.”

“But who is the intended recipient?” Alex points out, pocketing his phone. “Either Ricky double crossed him, or he knows Ricky tipped us off about Vesper’s auction. Either scenario isn’t good.”

“We should go through his place properly. There might be more?—”

“No time,” Alex cuts me off. “We need to be gone before someone calls this in. The neighbors might have heard something.”

He's right. We already spent too long here.

My comm crackles to life. “Guys,” Talon's voice is urgent in my ear. “We've got movement. Patrol car. You need to get the fuck out of there now.”

“Once we’re out, you rendezvous with Z and Vesper.”

“Copy,” Talon answers.

“Your jacket's a mess,” Alex points out. “Take it off.”

I shrug out of the black blazer, turning it inside out before folding it carefully. The shirt underneath has only a few drops of crimson, but in the dim light, it could pass for anything.

“Fire escape. Now.”

I follow, tucking the folded jacket under my arm. The window slides open with a soft groan of protest, letting in a rushof cold night air that momentarily clears the scent of death from my nostrils.

Alex slips through first, his movements fluid and silent despite his size. I follow, careful not to touch the frame with my bare hands. The metal grating beneath my feet feels precarious, rattling slightly.

“Patrol car is turning onto the street now.”

We descend rapidly. Three floors down, my foot slips on a wet patch, sending a loud clang that echoes through the alley. We both freeze.

“Keep moving,” Alex hisses after a moment.

When we reach the bottom, Alex drops silently to the ground. I follow, landing in a puddle that splashes muddied water onto my pants. At least it will cover any blood on them.

“Patrol car is passing the building,” Talon relays. “Shit. They’re turning towards the alley.”

“Go, go, go!” I whisper-shout, grabbing Alex's arm as we sprint down the alley.

We stay tight against the brick wall. The beam of headlights sweeps across the entrance to the alley. We quickly duck behind an open dumpster.

“Fuck,” Alex breathes next to me.

“Get in,” I tell him, climbing up the backside of the dumpster.

Alex gives me a look like I've lost my mind, but the patrol car's headlights grow closer with each passing second. We tumble into the dumpster, sinking into a nauseating soup God knows what. We duck lower into the disgusting muck.

“If we survive this, I'm going to kill you myself.”