Chapter 2: The Mark She Was Never Supposed to See
The train car went dead silent.
Every passenger was staring.
Nobody moved.
Nobody spoke.
The man on the floor blinked up at her like he couldn't process what had just happened.
Then he started laughing.
"You have no idea who you just put your hands on," he said, his voice low and ugly.
"No idea at all."
She didn't loosen her grip.
"I know exactly what you are."
A woman near the door clutched her handbag tighter.
An older man in a grey coat slowly pulled out his phone.
The man on the floor twisted his head and looked straight at her.
"My brother runs this line.
Every stop.
You think this ends here?"
She leaned in close.
"It ended the moment you grabbed my bag."
That's when the train slowed.
Next stop approaching.
And that's when she noticed it — a small tattoo on the inside of his wrist.
Three lines.
A mark she had seen before.
A long time ago.
In a file she was never supposed to read.
Her jaw tightened.
This wasn't random.
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He wasn't just a r0bber.
He had been watching her.
