when we were BROKEN

Thirty-One

The prickling feeling along his spine was warning Ji the danger was still present. Whoever the shooter was, he was still here. Moving fast, Ji headed into the thick of the busy streets, surrounding himself with distractions, moving targets, and unpredictable motion. A soft pfft spattered brick dust across his shoulder and Ji ducked into a side street, instinctively looking for a way up. He needed the high ground.

Slamming his shoulder into a backdoor, he ignored the startled cries of the occupants and ran for the stairs, taking them two at a time. A rickety wooden ladder led up to the rooftop, the late sunlight giving a new dimension from the world below. Sharp gaze sweeping the buildings and shadows, he ran from the doorway to the railing, peering out, looking for anything that didn't belong.

"Where are you," he muttered to himself, filtering out noise and movement as easily as one might detect color from black and white. A beat passed. Then another. Had he misjudged? Maybe the shooter had- there.

A smile ghosted over his mouth as Ji bolted from his position. Back down the ladder, down the stairs, out and across the street, sprinting for a tall series of buildings, Ji caught sight of his target leaping from one rooftop to another. Ducking into the nearest door, Ji dodged around a man trying to stop him and ran for the stairs. He needed to get high, now that he had his target. Slamming through the metal door to the rooftop, he yanked back as sharp tings peppered the frame around his head and shoulders.

His prey had turned the tables, but it didn't matter. Ji was in full machine mode. Kill or be killed. Darting from one bit of cover to the next, he stopped reacting to the sting of shrapnel shredded from metal and brick, turquoise eyes focused on his objective. Gauging the distance from where he was to the next rooftop where the shots were coming from, Ji calculated the risk, factoring in his wounded arm. Could he make it?

Suddenly noticing the stillness, he stiffened, looking out from behind the corner of a small fan box. Too quiet. Moving fast, he bolted for the railing, expecting the impact of a bullet with each heartbeat. Then he was airborne, hitting the far rooftop rolling. A soft scrabble of sound had him running for the far side, managing to catch sight of his target dropping to the ground.

Without a second thought Ji went after him, but reaching the street a sweeping search gave him nothing. No clues to follow. No trail. Only a mysterious shooter that had targeted him for death. Panting, feeling blood soaking through the gauze of his bandage, Ji withdrew.

Ginny would be expecting him, and they had no more time to waste.

***

"Everyone calm down!" Ikeno's voice rose above the din of voices, standing between Ginny's cowering form and Rémy. Ana was off to one side, snapping like a chained dog, while Tony was shouting to leave the girl alone. "Enough!"

It finally silenced them, Sousa panting from the effort. Chocolate eyes pinned Rémy's.

"Back off. Over there."

"It's her-!"

"Now! And you," turning the fierce gaze on Tony, Ikeno snapped impatient fingers, gesturing to the vacated chair. "Bring that over here. Slowly."

"Ikeno,"

"In a moment, Ana. Let's all just take a moment." When the chair was delivered, Ikeno slowly put a gentle hand on the woman's frail, trembling arm. She cringed back, averting her gaze. "No, no, it's alright. No one will hurt you. Please, sit here. Please,"

Urging the reluctant visitor to get up, Sousa slanted a meaningful look at Ana.

"Tea, please. The cupboard above the stove. Green jar." While Ana worked on that, Ikeno knelt before the terrified guest, both hands on quivering knees. "Will you tell me your name?"