From Nothing To Power

CHAPTER 2 – THE COST OF BREATHING

Kairo didn’t stop running until his lungs felt like they were tearing apart.

He burst out of the alley into a half-lit street where broken streetlights flickered like dying stars. He slowed only when his legs threatened to give out, ducking behind an abandoned delivery truck with rust eating through its sides.

He bent forward, hands on his knees, rain dripping from his hood.

“Think,”

he whispered. “Think.”

Blackgate never chased for no reason. Someone wanted him badly enough to spend money, manpower, and bullets. That meant whatever he’d taken, whatever he’d found, was worth blood. A voice cut through the rain.

“You always run like that, or am I special?”

Kairo spun, knife flashing into his hand. The girl from the rooftop stepped into view, hood still up, pistol lowered but ready. Her eyes moved constantly, left, right, behind him, like the city had trained her personally.

“You followed me,”

Kairo said. She shrugged. “You didn’t exactly disappear.”

“You should’ve.”

“Probably.”

She tilted her head. “But then you’d be dead by morning.”

Kairo stayed tense. “Who are you?”

She smiled faintly. “Someone who knows when a storm is about to get worse.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“In Blackgate, it is.”

They stood there, rain filling the silence. Somewhere nearby, a siren wailed, then cut off abruptly. “You brought trouble to my roof,”

she said. “That usually gets people killed.”

“I didn’t ask for help.”

“No,”

she agreed. “But you didn’t refuse it either.”

Kairo hesitated. “Why did you help me?”

She studied him for a long moment. “Because you didn’t beg.”

“What?”

“Everyone begs when they’re cornered,”

she said. “You calculated.”

“That gets you killed too.”

“Eventually,”

she replied. “But not tonight.”

He lowered the knife slightly, though his grip stayed firm. “What do you want?”

“Information.”

“I don’t have any.”

She laughed quietly. “Everyone says that. Then they die proving it.”

Kairo exhaled slowly. “Try again.”

She stepped closer. “The man in the coat. The one who spoke last. You know who he is?”

“No.”

“That’s a lie,” she said calmly.

Kairo met her eyes. “That’s survival.”

Another pause. “My name’s Lena,”

she said finally. “And if he noticed you, you’re already in deeper than you think.”

“I didn’t steal from him.”

“That’s worse.”

Kairo frowned. “How?”

“Because men like that don’t chase thieves,”

Lena said. “They chase threats.”

Before Kairo could respond, headlights flared at the end of the street.

Lena cursed under her breath. “We need to move.”

“Why?”

“Because that truck doesn’t belong there,”

she said, already backing away. “And neither do you.”

They slipped into another alley, this one wider, lined with closed shops and metal shutters tagged with faded graffiti. “You keep running like this,”

Lena said, “and you’ll bleed out without anyone touching you.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re limping.”

Kairo glanced down. Blood soaked through his pant leg. He hadn’t noticed. “Adrenaline’s a liar,”

she added.

They ducked into a narrow storefront with a shattered window covered by plywood. Inside, the air smelled of dust and old oil. Lena kicked the door shut and slid a metal bar into place. “Sit,”

she ordered. “I don’t take orders.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You do if you want to keep your leg.”

Kairo hesitated, then sat on an overturned crate. She knelt, inspecting the wound. “Bullet graze. Lucky.”

“I don’t believe in luck.”

“Good,” she said. “It doesn’t believe in you either.”

She wrapped the wound quickly, practiced hands moving without hesitation. “Who taught you that?”

Kairo asked.

“The city,”

Lena replied. “Same as you.”

Silence settled again, heavier now. “You’re undocumented,”

she said suddenly. Kairo stiffened. “Don’t say that.”

“I just did.”

“Say it again and this conversation ends.”

She met his gaze. “Relax. I won’t sell you out.”

“You don’t know me.”

“I know your walk,”

she said. “People with papers don’t move like hunted animals.”

Kairo clenched his jaw. “Why are you really here?”

“Because you’re useful,”

Lena said honestly. “And because Blackgate eats people like you alive unless someone shows them how to bite back.”

“I don’t need a savior.”

“Good,”

she replied. “I’m not one.”

She stood. “Come on.”

“Where?”

“Somewhere warm,”

she said. “And somewhere the city doesn’t look too hard.”

They moved again, deeper into the maze. After several turns, they reached a hidden basement beneath a shuttered pawnshop. Inside, dim lights hummed, and screens glowed faintly along one wall. Kairo stared. “What is this?”

“Information hub,”

Lena said. “Unofficial. Illegal. Necessary.”

“You run this?”

“I survive with it.”

She handed him a towel. “Dry off. You’re shaking.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding and freezing.”

He took it. “You’re going to tell me what you found,” she said.

“And if I don’t?”

“Then I let the city finish what it started.”

Kairo considered that. Then he reached into his jacket and pulled out the small notebook.

Lena’s eyes sharpened. “That’s not trash.”

“No,”

he said quietly. “It’s leverage.”

She flipped through the pages, expression changing with every line. “These names…”

she whispered. “You have no idea what you’re holding.”

“I know enough,”

Kairo said. “Enough to stay alive.”

She looked up slowly. “This can get you killed in ways running never will.”

“Everything can.”

Lena closed the notebook. “You just stepped into the wrong game.”

Kairo leaned back, pain pulsing through his leg. “Then I’ll learn the rules,”

he said. She studied him, then smiled, not kindly.

“That’s the first expensive sentence you’ve ever said.”

A knock echoed upstairs. Both of them froze. Lena reached for her pistol. “Lights off.”

The room plunged into darkness. A voice drifted down through the floorboards, smooth, familiar, terrifying. “Nameless,”

the voice called softly. “I know you’re close.”

Kairo’s heart hammered.

Lena leaned close, whispering, “Now you understand.”

Outside, boots shifted. Patience. Control. The voice spoke again.

“You can keep running,”

it said. “Or you can come talk about your future.”

Kairo tightened his grip on the knife. For the first time, he didn’t run. He whispered back, barely audible: “Let’s talk.”