Page 9 of Jump or Fall

Mara

D awson’s footsteps faded to a slight thump, then to nothing.

She hurried back to her office, trying to appear normal as she passed others in the hallway.

The carrier was still under her desk, and her bag looked untouched—but she couldn’t be sure. Just because Dawson had been in the meeting didn’t mean Max hadn’t been sent in to pry through her things.

She pulled the secret tablet from her bag and messaged Gordon.

M

Not safe at my place. I may be followed.

Every second that ticked by while she waited for his reply was agonizing. Her vision started to blur from not blinking, fear gripping her chest.

Then a map appeared in the message box.

It showed a route to a coffee shop nearby called Carmella’s. She had been there a few times, drawn to the carefully arranged greenery and flowering hedges that created secluded seating areas.

A second map followed—this one a top-down view of the outdoor seating, with an X marked on a hedge.

G

Order coffee then swap at the x. Log erased in 10 seconds.

Sure enough, the entire conversation vanished, along with any way to contact him.

She had done enough work. If anyone asked, she could say she wasn’t feeling well. No one would question it since Dawson had stopped by.

On the walk to the coffee shop, she found herself checking over her shoulder more than once. The sensation of being watched was impossible to brush off, but she forced herself to focus on the task at hand.

The message had seemed like Gordon. Dawson wouldn’t bother with something so elaborate, so it probably wasn’t a trap.

Mara entered her order at the kiosk then seated herself in the designated spot between two large hedges bursting with bright pink and purple flowers. The heavy floral scent that filled the space was almost overpowering.

She subtly tested the hedge to her left with her foot and found something solid.

Leaning forward, she pretended to adjust her shoe while sliding out her carrier and replacing it with Gordon’s. Then, using her foot, she brushed the leaves back into place.

A service bot rolled up, and she grabbed her drink from its tray.

It wasn’t leaving though. A small display on its front lit up with a message: Plug key from inv mod into main tab . Tap to acknowledge.

Mara tapped the screen, and the bot rolled away to deliver its other orders.

Taking a slow sip of her coffee, she pulled the key she had used to modify the inventory from her pocket.

She inserted it into her main tablet. The screen went black and another message appeared in white text: Auto-activity software installed. Leave at home and meet at tunnel entrance at 8. Key will let you in .

The screen flickered back to normal, and she pocketed the key. She recalled what he’d said about the city using most of the same programs. If he could hijack a bot in Division Two, what else was he capable of?

Her mind wandered back to his face. She wanted to see him smile again—really smile. She had a feeling he kept that stony mask in place to hide the partial paralysis. The few moments she’d cracked through that shell had left a strange flutter in her chest.

Mara drank her coffee slowly, making herself linger, so it would look natural. If she was being watched, leaving too quickly would raise suspicion.

She bounced her knee impatiently while flipping through notes on deploying the synth-minds. The functionality was only intended for the enforcers and Silvers, but it would need to be introduced in phases. If something went wrong, they’d be in deep shit if it affected everyone.

Gordon had mentioned finding an exploit. Maybe they could deploy that in a similar way to avoid detection. But she was sure he had already thought of that.

She wondered how much Silva had relayed from the meeting. Part of her hoped he would leave Dawson’s presence out of it. Nothing had happened, but the implication was still there.

Mara finished her coffee and walked home with her suit in tow.

The streets buzzed with commotion—commuters rushing past, displays scanning her appearance and trying to catch her attention with the latest skincare product or gadget.

But it all blurred at the edges. Her mind was too full to focus on any of it.

As she turned a corner, a woman she didn’t recognize slowed in front of her, locking eyes in a hard, unblinking stare. Mara faltered mid-step. There was something sharp in the woman’s expression.

Mara muttered, “Excuse me,” and stepped around her, but the woman didn’t move or respond. She just kept staring.

That was strange. Did she know her somehow ?

The confusion stayed with her all the way back to her building. Just before reaching the front door, she risked a glance over her shoulder—and her stomach dropped.

Max was parked outside, watching her.

She ground her teeth together and retreated inside, heart pounding.

Dawson was suspicious. Or maybe he was looking for an excuse to get rid of her. He’d chosen Nella for his after-work entertainment.

Maybe he’s getting bored of me.

How long was Max going to sit there? At least she could see him from the window.

***

It was 7:30, and he was still there. She couldn’t wait any longer. Being early was better than staying trapped in her cage.

Mara pulled on her hooded coat and hid herself as much as she could. The sun had nearly set, and a low rumble of distant thunder vibrated through the air.

She turned on the auto-activity setting for her tablet, letting it scroll through pages at a reading pace before leaving it on her desk.

Mara took the stairs and slipped out the backdoor into the alleyway. The path was crowded with trash bins and overgrown plants. Staying concealed in the alley was easy, but dodging spider webs was not. The last thing she needed was to get bitten by something.

The thunder grew louder, the tremors buzzing in her feet. Flashes from the sky lit the alley in pulses.

Once out of the alley, she stuck to the side streets, avoiding the main roads and hoping not to get lost in the darkness. There were few cars and fewer people, but she kept to the shadows.

The tunnel entrance was deserted .

She slid the key into the slot. Was it the right way up? It was impossible to see.

The lock disengaged.

She pulled the door open just enough to slip inside.

Relief washed over her at the sight of Gordon sitting against the wall, tablet in hand. He nodded in greeting before standing and dusting himself off.

They started walking toward the place Silva had called “Crux”. Mara was grateful for the shorter walk, but she couldn’t help wishing they were headed back to the sea.

Something felt off, like eyes were on her. She looked over and found Gordon staring at her face. His expression was difficult to read—somewhere between angry and sick.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

He turned away. “We have medi-spray in the safe house.”

She stopped. “What are you talking about?”

His gaze remained downcast. “Silva mentioned that Knight was in the meeting today.”

Mara touched her cheek. A sting flared beneath her fingers. She’d forgotten about the scratch. Dawson must’ve counted on her fixing it before anyone would see.

Her face flushed.

Desperate to change the subject, she asked, “Are we meeting with anyone new tonight?”

“Kimmie Alphito. She’s an enforcer who helps us keep tabs on her cohorts during missions.”

“How many of these ‘missions’ have you done?”

“Not many. Without a suit, it’s been risky. The modified gauntlets will help so I don’t have to worry about dropping my tablet.”

They reached the new safe house, a single-room space at the junction of intersecting tunnels. There was a door leading to what she assumed was a bathroom, two beds against the wall with a map between them, and a set of drawers along the opposite wall. The room had a musty smell to it.

Gordon rummaged through the drawers and pulled out a white box then handed her a can of medi-spray.

“We only have the knock-off stuff.”

Mara shrugged. “It’s all made by Ascleon.”

“Hmm. Not surprised.”

She glanced around. “Is there a mirror?”

He thought for a moment. “No.”

Hesitant, she held out the can. “Please? I don’t know how long it is and don’t want to spray too much. I hate the smell of it.”

Gordon pulled up one of the rickety chairs and sat across from her, his face tense.

“Close your eyes,” he said gently.

Without touching her, he sprayed the healing solution over her cheek. The solution burned as it mended the skin. At least the cut hadn’t been deep, so there wouldn’t be a mark. The glare from that woman earlier suddenly made sense.

She heard the can clink back into its case and opened her eyes to find Gordon’s locked on her again.

“Thank you,” she said awkwardly. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

He frowned. “Why should you be sorry?”

Maybe it was strange to apologize, especially considering he bore something much worse. She would never think he needed to apologize for having scars.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I’m not used to anyone seeing me this way besides him. My scars are easy to hide.”

“Sometimes the hidden ones are the deepest.”

Something stirred inside at those words. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt anything other than loathing or grudging tolerance for another person. Her only boyfriend had been so long ago, she couldn’t even recall what it felt like to miss someone .

But the idea of saying goodbye to Gordon tonight left a strange, aching pull in her chest.

She wanted to reach for his hand. It had felt so right before—as if for once, she wasn’t alone.

Before she could gather the courage, footsteps approached from outside the door.

That’s what this was.

A mission.

Focus on the mission.