Page 34 of Rogue Hope (Hope Landing: New Recruits #4)

“Move.” Zara kept her voice low, fighting to keep panic from her tone. “Secondary exit?” she asked Shen.

Shen jerked his chin toward a service door half-hidden behind a decorative screen. “Staff elevator. Bypasses lobby. Exits through loading dock.”

“We’ll take it,” Finn said. “Shen, split off. No reason for you to burn with us.”

“Too late.” The older spy’s mouth flattened into a grim line. “If they’ve made you, they’ve seen me with you. Cover’s already toast.”

Zara caught the man at the bar speaking into his cuff. Backup incoming. Clock ticking.

She gathered her sketching materials with forced calm. “Keep cover until we hit the service elevator.”

The three rose casually, Shen leading them on a meandering route toward the hidden exit like a tour guide showing VIP guests around.

Every instinct screamed at Zara to drop the hunched academic posture, but she forced herself to maintain it.

Beside her, Finn kept up his professor act, though his eyes never stopped scanning.

They’d almost reached the service door when one of the men abandoned pretense. His hand darted toward his jacket—weapon.

“Go!” Finn ordered.

Shen punched a code into the keypad. The door swung open. They slipped through as shouts erupted behind them, followed by the unmistakable sound of weapons clearing holsters.

The service elevator waited with open doors. They rushed inside. Shen hit the button for the loading dock while Zara pulled a small device from her bag and fried the elevator’s camera.

“They’ll lock down the building,” Shen warned as they descended. “Every exit covered in minutes.”

“Then we need to be out in less than one.” Finn retrieved a compact SIG from his ankle holster.

Zara drew her own weapon, mind racing through options. The pain had backed off to manageable levels, but a firefight would push her body into dangerous territory.

“Loading dock connects to the alley behind the financial district,” Shen said. “Two blocks to the night market. Maximum crowd, minimum cameras.”

The elevator slowed. Zara positioned herself beside the doors, weapon ready but hidden. Finn mirrored her on the opposite side.

“Stay between us,” she told Shen. “If we get separated, hit the secondary rendezvous.”

The doors slid open to a crowded loading area—trucks, workers, stacks of supplies. No immediate threat, but that wouldn’t last.

They moved quickly through the organized chaos, Shen guiding them toward an exit at the far end. Halfway there, alarm klaxons screamed to life. Workers looked up, confused, as red warning lights flashed.

“Security lockdown,” Shen said unnecessarily. “Thirty seconds before doors seal automatically.”

She pushed harder, ignoring the fire in her knees. They reached the exit as heavy metal doors began sliding shut on automated tracks. Finn went through first, then Shen. Zara dove through the narrowing gap, feeling metal brush her heel as it sealed behind her.

They emerged into an alley flanked by dumpsters and delivery vehicles. Without stopping, Zara oriented herself and pointed east.

“Night market that way. Move fast but don’t run. Running draws eyes.”

They adopted a brisk walk, stripping outer layers of their disguises. Zara abandoned her hunch, standing tall for the first time in days. Her back muscles sang with relief, though the sudden change sent daggers through her hips.

They’d nearly reached the end of the alley when three figures appeared, blocking their path. The lead operative’s hand already reaching for his weapon.

“Split!” Finn shouted, diving right behind a delivery truck.

She went left, dragging Shen with her behind stacked wooden pallets. Gunfire erupted—suppressed weapons making dull thuds instead of cracks.

“Not standard Vanguard protocol,” Zara hissed as bullets splintered wood inches from her head. “They’re shooting to kill, not capture.”

“This is on Cipher’s orders. Trust me,” Shen replied grimly. “No way they’d end us if it wasn’t Cipher’s plan.”

The implications chilled her, but there was no time to process. Across the alley, Finn returned fire, providing cover while signaling toward a narrow passage between buildings.

“On my mark,” she told Shen, raising her weapon. “Three, two, one?—”

She fired three precise shots, forcing their pursuers to cover. Shen sprinted for the passage as Finn laid down additional fire. Zara followed, ignoring the white-hot flare of pain in her legs.

They burst through the narrow passage onto a street packed with pedestrians and the vibrant chaos of Singapore’s night market, plunging into the crowd, weaving between food stalls and trinket vendors.

“—need to separate,” Shen gasped as they ducked behind hanging lanterns. “They’ll scan for three targets moving together.”

She nodded. “Secondary rendezvous. Twenty-two hundred.”

Shen vanished into the crowd, instantly becoming another face in thousands. Finn caught her eye, tilting his head toward a side street that would take them away from the market’s main thoroughfare.

They moved with practiced coordination, changing direction, doubling back, using the dense crowds as cover. Every few minutes, Zara spotted their pursuers—trained killers trying to maintain visual while navigating the packed market.

After fifteen minutes of calculated evasion, they slipped into a small temple nestled between modern skyscrapers. The shift from market chaos to quiet sanctuary hit like a physical wave. Incense hung heavy in the air. A handful of worshippers knelt in prayer, paying the newcomers no attention.

Zara found a darkened alcove, controlling her breathing despite the exertion.

“Too close,” Finn whispered, positioning himself to watch the entrance. “They were waiting for us.”

“Yeah.” The implication settled like ice in her stomach. “Either Shen set us up, or?—”

“Or Harrison’s dirty,” Finn finished. “If he suspected we were questioning his loyalty, he might have anticipated we’d contact Shen.”

She leaned back against cool stone, letting it support her as she processed both the physical pain and the troubling possibilities. The evidence against her mentor was stacking up, getting way harder to dismiss as fabrication.

“We assume maximum compromise,” she said finally. “No electronics, no established safe houses, no predictable moves.”

Finn nodded. “And we need to decode what ‘Winterfell Protocol’ means. That could be the key to our boy’s involvement.”

Outside, sirens wailed as security forces expanded their search. Inside the temple, Zara closed her eyes briefly, the scent of incense cutting through her focus.

When she opened them, she found Finn watching her—not with the calculating gaze of an operator assessing a liability, but with genuine concern.

“Flare up?” he asked quietly.

She started to deny it, then stopped herself. “Yes.”

Seven years ago, she would have hidden any weakness. Now, surrounded by enemies in a foreign city, she didn’t have that luxury.

Neither did he.

“I’ve got some anti-inflammatories left,” she admitted. “Enough for forty-eight hours or so.”

Finn nodded once, the information simply one more factor in their survival equation. No judgment. No pity.

“Then we work with forty-eight hours,” he said, checking his weapon.

He glanced toward the temple entrance, where twilight was rapidly fading into darkness. “We need to get off the grid completely. Somewhere to regroup, assess what we learned from Shen.”

Zara mentally scanned Singapore’s layout, weighing options against risks. “I’ve got a place. Old safehouse established way before digital record-keeping. Off-network.”

“How far?”

“Malaysian Coast.” She pushed away from the wall, muscles protesting. “If we time it right, we can use the Deepavali festival crowds for cover.”

Finn ejected his magazine, checked the remaining rounds. “Good. We secure position, analyze the Winterfell intel, plot our next move.”

As they prepared to venture back into Singapore’s labyrinthine streets, Zara realized what had changed since Paris.

Trust wasn’t about believing someone would never hurt you.

It was about knowing exactly how they could hurt you—and moving forward anyway.