Author's Notice: This chapter is a draft chapter and not the real chapter... I'll edit as soon as possible after I recover from my illness.
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Daniel didn't move. The street seemed to breathe with him, each drop of rain ticking against the stones like a clock. The figure across the way had stepped back into shadow, swallowed so fully it was as if the night had chosen to protect him.
Daniel's hand rested on the grip of the knife hidden under his coat. The cold steel grounded him, though his heart thudded too fast. He knew better than to lunge blind. Whoever watched him wanted him to do just that—to rush, to stumble, to expose himself.
He forced his breathing to steady. One step at a time, he crossed the street. The awning dripped. Only a thin puddle rippled where the figure had stood moments ago.
