Sara sat in the driver's seat, her eyes glued to the hospital parking lot. A few yards ahead, a white van had its back doors wide open. Two guys in blue coveralls were moving a heavy wooden crate toward the vehicle.

  She watched the heavy box slide into the dark interior. The guys slammed the doors shut. A second later, a doctor and a nurse strolled past the van, deep in a quiet conversation.

  Sara ducked down, forehead against the cool steering wheel. She counted to ten.

  When the white coats disappeared behind the glass of the emergency room, she turned the key. The engine purred to life. She shifted into gear and let the van get about thirty yards ahead before she pulled out of the bay.

  Simon was leaning against the wall. He saw the crate being hoisted into the back of the truck. The loading ramp retracted with a hydraulic hiss.

  Simon didn't wait. He flagged down a passing yellow cab. The car screeched to a halt, and Simon threw himself into the backseat before the wheels stopped spinning.

  "Follow that truck," Simon said. He pointed toward the heavy vehicle as it lumbered toward the main road.

  The driver checked him out in the rearview mirror, his brow furrowed. "Follow it where?"

  Simon didn't argue. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a wad of crumpled bills. He leaned forward and dropped the cash onto the passenger seat.

  The driver looked at the money, then back at the road. He didn't say another word. He slammed the car into drive and floored it, the taxi lurching forward as it trailed the truck into the evening traffic.

  The streets blurred into a gray concrete mess. Simon sat on the edge of the vinyl seat, his eyes locked on the truck's square taillights. They moved through the downtown core, weaving between buses and delivery bikes.

  Sara gripped the steering wheel. Her mind was racing.

  Should I call him? she wondered. Her thumb hovered over the phone on the dashboard.

  No. Not yet.

  If she called now, the noise might distract him. She needed to reach the destination first. She needed to see where the crates were going before she raised the alarm.

  The light at the intersection ahead turned red. Sara slammed on her brakes, her tires squealing.

  She watched the van continue through the yellow, pulling further away.

  "Hurry up," she hissed at the red light. Her fingers drummed a frantic beat on the leather.

  "Big jam," the taxi driver muttered. He gestured at the sea of brake lights stretching for three blocks. "Nobody's moving for twenty minutes."

  Simon stood up in the backseat, peering over the roof of the car. The truck was still moving. Because of its size, it was hugging the shoulder, slowly squeezing past the line of smaller vehicles. It was reaching the clear area at the front of the jam. Once it hit the open road, the taxi would never catch up.

  Simon grabbed the door handle.

  "Hey! Where you going?" the driver shouted.

  Simon ignored him. He shoved the door open and stepped out into the humid air of the street. He started to walk, then broke into a jog, weaving between the idling cars. He kept his eyes on the metal tailgate of the truck, closing the distance ten yards at a time.

  Sara's van finally came to a halt. It had pulled into a side street near a row of rusted warehouses.

  A man in a dark jacket walked up to the driver's side of the van. He leaned in and said something to the driver. The van's blinker clicked on. It turned left, disappearing behind a tall chain-link fence topped with razor wire.

  Sara stopped her car a block back. She watched the man. He stayed at the corner, his head moving as he scanned the street. He was a lookout. Sara sat in the dark cabin of her car, her heart pounding against her ribs.

  Moments later, the man pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He lit one, the orange cherry glowing. He took a long drag, exhaled a cloud of gray smoke, and started to walk toward the alley where the van had gone.

  Sara opened her door quietly. She stepped onto the pavement and clicked the door shut without letting the latch slam. She followed him.

  Stolen story; please report.

  Simon moved through the warehouse entrance like a ghost. He kept his back to the crates that were stacked high in the loading bay. He could hear the heavy thud of wood hitting the floor and the muffled grunts of men working.

  He peered around a stack of pallets. Four men were carrying the crates toward a service elevator. Two other guys stood near the center of the floor. They held submachine guns across their chests, their eyes constantly scanning.

  Simon's gaze shifted to the side entrance. The heavy metal door groaned open.

  A group of men walked in, and they weren't alone. They were pointing their weapons at a figure walking in front of them. The person had their hands raised behind their head, fingers interlaced.

  Simon's eyes narrowed, the dim warehouse light filtering through grimy windows. He made out a silhouette – long hair. A woman.

  They moved closer to the center of the floor. Yellow light splashed across her face.

  "Sara," Simon breathed. His foot nudged a crate, scraping against the concrete. By the elevator, two armed guys whipped around, barrels glinting.

  "Who's there?" one yelled. Simon ducked, back against rough pallets. The guards advanced, one gesturing to flank him.

  "Nowhere to run," the guard snarled. A suffocating silence fell. Sara's captors watched.

  "Fine," the guard said, voice like ice. His finger tightened on the trigger.

  Suddenly, a gun slid from behind the crates. The guard's eyes followed it, then snapped up. He saw hands, then a head.

  Simon stepped out, face still calm. Sara froze, eyes wide. Behind her, a chuckle echoed.

  A man stepped out from behind her. "Well, ain't this a fine mess."

  Simon's gaze shifted before his mind could process. He knew that voice. The man stepped closer to Simon, a wide grin on his face.

  "I warned you, didn't I? Neomar ain't too fond of outsiders."

  It was the thief from the market.

  "You know him, Cloud?" The man pointing the gun at Simon asked.

  "Do I?"

  Cloud tilted his head at Simon, "Nope. We don't know each other. Just caught my attention at the market the other day. You wouldn't believe it, but dude was moving like a damn scientist, thinkin' he can understand the equations of this place. Thank me for being kind. I took the effort to tell him to back off. But here we are..."

  "No one bothers taking the kind man's advice seriously."

  "What about her?"

  Cloud glanced at Sara. "She was sneaking around outside. But... could be both of them are working together?"

  He approached Sara, his gaze scanning her from head to toe.

  "You with him?" He whispered.

  Sara didn't answer.

  Cloud grabbed her cheeks, then loudly, "Is she with you?"

  Simon replied with a silent stare.

  "Heh..." Cloud shoved Sara back, "Working as a pair. Tie them up for now. And someone inform George about this."

  "Already did." The man glanced at the entrance.

  Footsteps approaching.

  Sara's eyes followed to the entrance, watching four people entering. Two men carrying rifles were at the front. One in a clean light blue blazer behind them.

  George, she thought.

  Then lastly, a young man. His face appeared familiar. She blinked.

  What's he doing here?

  "Where are they?"

  "You blind dumbfuck." Cloud scoffed. He stepped aside and pushed Sara forward, "She and him." He nodded at Simon.

  The man approached Simon. He observed him for a moment, catching the necklace on his neck. He scoffed and turned to Sara. His hands reached for her long hair.

  "Smooth."

  Cloud ignored the guy's behavior. His eyes lingered on the young man behind George for a moment, then lifted to George.

  "What do we do with them?"

  "Did they say anything?" George asked.

  "Didn't bother asking. I don't think they're gonna tell us anything about who they are and why they came here."

  "Lock them up for now."

  Cloud nodded, then turned to the young man. "Who's he? Haven't seen him before."

  "He's with me. Name's Julian."

  Cloud glanced back at the man, then back at Julian. He stared hard.

  Julian staggered back half a step. "I'm with Rex."

  "I heard it already." He pressed the muzzle at Julian's stomach. "But I didn't hear why."

  "You ain't need to know." Rex turned around, "And keep your toy away from him. He's my pal now. Land a single scratch on him, and I'll empty the whole magazine on your skull."

  "Huh..." Cloud turned around slowly, "Wanna try?"

  "Stop your arguments. I don't have time for this." George stepped forward between them.

  "Write those words on this asshole's head." Cloud shrugged and turned to leave.

  "And someone please sew that smell-ass mouth shut. Whenever it opens, only shit comes out."

  Cloud didn't bother with him anymore and left.

  "Why is everyone standing here? Get to work." George said sharply, "And someone tie them up. I'll check on them this evening."

  One man standing close quickly moved behind Simon.

  George turned around to leave, then stopped. He rested his hand on Julian's shoulder and said calmly, "You should also head to your hotel and think carefully. It'll be better if you contact your partner soon."

  "I actually have a good solution for these two," Rex called out to George.

  "Spill it."

  "The auction's already around the corner. I don't know about this dude. Selling parts pays more than as a whole. But this chick?" Rex's fingers brushed Sara's face, stopping on her lips. "She can give us more than enough."

  George thought for a moment.

  Rex went behind Sara and pushed her forward at them.

  "Just look at her." His hands pressed on Sara's chest, then slipped lower, slower. "She's got the looks and assets. I know people like that still exist."

  "Alright," George nodded. "That can provide us enough to give Julian's company the first payment."

  "What?" Julian blurted out.

  "That was also what I was thinking," Rex shoved Sara aside. "You should also come. What do you say?"

  "Me? What—where?" Julian fumbled.

  "Take care of the rest then." George left.

  Julian watched the two men Simon was being taken away by. Sara was still there, hands tied back.

  Rex threw his arm around his shoulder and said, "So it's decided then. You're coming to the auction with me."

  "But—"

  "No buts. You'll enjoy it there. When that dude's whole body gets sliced up on stage, you'll hear the folks bidding on each of his organs."

  Rex then took him to Sara. "And when she's standing there with nothing on her skin, ahh~ you'll feel it there."

  "Yeah..." Julian's voice was barely a whisper. He looked up at Sara. She was looking at him. He didn't know what to say.

  "You wanna take her for a spin before she's sold off?"

  "No—no." Julian stepped back. "I just wanna head to my room for now."