The Market
Aaliyah
The afternoon sunlight slanted through the curtains, casting long, golden streaks across the suite. Aaliyah sat cross-legged on the couch, flipping idly through a magazine she’d found on the coffee table. It was in German, and while she couldn’t understand most of it, the glossy pictures of ski resorts and alpine lakes were a nice distraction from the tension that seemed to linger in every corner of the room.
Cruz, meanwhile, was by the window, methodically checking her gear. She wasn’t sharpening knives or fiddling with gadgets—just running her hands over her equipment, testing straps, zippers, and the weight of her pack. It was a quiet ritual, one that didn’t seem rushed or anxious, but precise. Thorough.
“You’re really good at that,” Aaliyah said, her tone light as she set the magazine aside. “Making it look like you’re ready for anything.”
Cruz didn’t look up, but there was a faint twitch of her lips. “That’s the idea.”
Aaliyah stretched her arms over her head, glancing out the window. The streets below were bustling with tourists and locals, the kind of lively chaos that made her chest tighten. She wanted to be out there—moving, doing something—but instead, she was here, spinning her wheels.
“I’m starting to feel like we’re in a really boring version of a spy movie,” she muttered.
Cruz raised an eyebrow, finally glancing her way. “Boring?”
“Well, yeah,” Aaliyah said, waving a hand around the room. “No car chases, no secret rendezvous. Just… sitting here.”
Cruz let out a soft huff that might have been a laugh. “You want car chases? Because I can promise you, they’re not as fun as they look.”
Aaliyah tilted her head, curious. “Have you been in one?”
“Once or twice,” Cruz said vaguely, her tone so casual it almost sounded like she was talking about running errands. She straightened, slinging her pack over one shoulder. “We need to get moving.”
“Moving where?” Aaliyah asked, standing and grabbing her jacket.
“Market,” Cruz said simply. “We need a burner phone, cash, and a few other things to stay ahead.”
Aaliyah frowned as she followed Cruz to the door. “You’re taking me with you?”
Cruz hesitated, her hand on the doorknob. “I don’t like leaving you alone. And you need to learn how to blend in.”
It wasn’t exactly a vote of confidence, but Aaliyah took it as a win. “Alright, lead the way, Super Spy.”
Cruz shot her a look that was equal parts amused and exasperated before opening the door.
--
The streets of Salzburg were alive with energy, the late-afternoon buzz of the city creating a symphony of sounds—laughter, conversation, and the faint strains of street musicians playing violins or accordions. Aaliyah stuck close to Cruz, her hands tucked into the pockets of her jacket as they navigated the crowds.
“You’re tense,” Aaliyah observed, glancing sideways at Cruz. “You don’t have to act like everyone out here is an assassin.”
Cruz’s mouth twitched in the faintest of smirks. “You don’t know that they’re not.”
Aaliyah rolled her eyes. “You’re exhausting, you know that?”
“Good,” Cruz said, her tone dry. “That means I’m doing my job.”
When they arrived at the marketplace, it was like stepping into another world. Rows of stalls stretched as far as Aaliyah could see, each one brimming with treasures—vividly colored scarves, silver jewelry, crates of fresh fruit, and steaming food carts wafting the smells of roasted chestnuts and sweet pastries. Strings of lights crisscrossed above them, glowing softly as the evening began to settle in.
Cruz slowed, her eyes sweeping the market with practiced precision. She turned slightly toward Aaliyah. “Stay close. No wandering.”
Aaliyah mock-saluted. “Got it, boss.”
Cruz’s gaze lingered for a beat longer before she turned and headed toward a stall selling electronics. Aaliyah trailed behind her, watching as Cruz slipped seamlessly into negotiation with the vendor, her tone calm and measured.
But Aaliyah’s attention soon drifted. A nearby stall caught her eye—a display of delicate silver jewelry that sparkled in the fading light. She hesitated, glancing at Cruz, who was still deep in conversation. It’ll only take a second, she thought, stepping toward the stand.
The vendor smiled warmly as Aaliyah reached for a crescent moon pendant, its simple design striking among the more elaborate pieces. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” the vendor said. “It would look lovely on you.”
Aaliyah smiled, running her fingers over the cool metal. She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, a firm hand gripped her arm and pulled her back.
“What the hell are you doing?” Cruz’s voice was low but sharp, the kind of tone that made Aaliyah’s stomach drop. She turned to see Cruz standing beside her, her jaw tight and her eyes blazing with intensity.
“I was just looking,” Aaliyah said, holding up the necklace like it was some kind of peace offering.
“Looking?” Cruz echoed, her voice still low but laced with frustration. “You can’t just wander off like that.”
“I was two steps away,” Aaliyah argued, though the guilt was already creeping in.
“And that’s two steps too far,” Cruz snapped. She glanced over her shoulder, her body tense like she was expecting trouble. “You don’t get it. You’re not safe. Not here, not anywhere.”
The raw edge to Cruz’s voice startled Aaliyah into silence. She hadn’t seen her this rattled before—not even during the fights on the train. For the first time, it hit her just how much Cruz was carrying.
“I’m sorry,” Aaliyah said softly, reaching out to place a hand on Cruz’s arm. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”
Cruz stilled under her touch, her dark eyes meeting Aaliyah’s. For a moment, the tension between them shifted, something unspoken flickering in the air. Then Cruz exhaled sharply, her features hardening again.
“Let’s go,” she said, stepping back and motioning for Aaliyah to follow.
Aaliyah tucked the necklace into her bag as they walked away, her thoughts swirling. She couldn’t shake the memory of the look in Cruz’s eyes—the worry, the anger, the protectiveness. It lingered in her chest, warm and confusing, long after they disappeared deeper into the market.
Cruz
The market hummed with life. Voices overlapped in a steady drone, punctuated by bursts of laughter, the clang of metal, and the occasional sharp bark of a vendor hawking their wares. Cruz moved through it all like a shadow, her gaze sharp and scanning every face, every movement. Her instincts weren’t screaming yet, but the ever-present hum of vigilance kept her muscles taut.
Beside her, Aaliyah walked with a curiosity that made her both endearing and infuriating. Her head turned at every colorful stall, her expression lighting up at the wares on display. It was the first time Cruz had seen her relax in days, and while part of her wanted to let Aaliyah enjoy the moment, the rest of her—the larger part—was on edge.
“Stay close,” Cruz said, her tone sharper than she intended.
“I’m right here,” Aaliyah replied lightly, brushing off the warning with a small smile. She didn’t get it. She didn’t feel the tension in the air like Cruz did. She didn’t know what it meant to be hunted, to live every second on the brink of danger.
Cruz sighed and turned toward the electronics stall she’d spotted earlier. The vendor was an older man with glasses perched precariously on his nose. He looked up as Cruz approached, greeting her in German.
“Guten Abend. Wie kann ich Ihnen helfen?”
Cruz slipped into fluent German, her voice calm but firm. “Ich brauche ein einfaches Mobiltelefon. Nichts Besonderes. Kein Vertrag. Und Bargeldzahlung.”
The vendor nodded, shuffling behind the counter to pull out a small selection of phones. Cruz glanced over them quickly, her eyes scanning for anything that met her needs without drawing attention. She selected one and handed it to him, continuing in German. “Das wird reichen. Haben Sie Prepaid-Karten?”
As the vendor reached for the cards, Cruz felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She glanced sideways, her eyes automatically searching for Aaliyah. The space where she’d been standing was empty.
A spike of cold panic shot through Cruz’s chest, sharp and immediate. She straightened, her entire body going rigid as her gaze swept the crowd. She didn’t see Aaliyah—didn’t see her dark hair, her familiar frame, her bright, restless energy. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears as scenarios flooded her mind.
Someone grabbed her. She’s gone. I wasn’t paying attention. She’s—
Cruz shut it down, forcing herself to breathe. She couldn’t let the fear take over. Not now. Not ever. Her eyes darted from stall to stall, her senses heightened, her focus razor-sharp. She moved through the crowd, weaving between tourists and locals with quick, efficient steps.
And then she saw her.
Aaliyah stood at a jewelry stall, her back to Cruz, her attention entirely absorbed by some trinket in her hands. Relief flooded Cruz’s chest, but it was quickly swallowed by anger. She pushed through the last few feet of crowd, her hand closing around Aaliyah’s arm as she pulled her back.
“What the hell are you doing?” Cruz hissed, her voice low and dangerous. Her pulse was still racing, her hands trembling faintly with the aftershock of adrenaline.
Aaliyah turned, startled. She held up a small silver necklace, her face a mix of confusion and guilt. “I was just looking—”
“Looking?” Cruz cut her off, her grip tightening for a moment before she forced herself to let go. She glanced over her shoulder, scanning the crowd for anyone who might have been watching. “You can’t just wander off like that.”
“I was two steps away,” Aaliyah argued, her tone defensive.
“Two steps too far,” Cruz snapped, her voice sharper than she intended. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, but the fear still clung to her like a vice. “You don’t get it, do you? You’re not safe. Not here, not anywhere.”
The rawness in her voice startled even herself, but she couldn’t stop it. She needed Aaliyah to understand—needed her to feel the weight of what was at stake.
Aaliyah’s expression softened. She reached out, her hand brushing against Cruz’s arm. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly, her voice steady. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”
The warmth of her touch sent a jolt through Cruz, and for a moment, she couldn’t move. She looked down at Aaliyah’s hand, then up at her face, and something shifted. This wasn’t just about the mission anymore. It wasn’t just about protecting an asset. Aaliyah was… more than that. Cruz didn’t want to think about what that meant, but the realization hung in the air between them, unspoken and undeniable.
Cruz stepped back, her expression hardening again. “Let’s go,” she said, her voice clipped. She motioned for Aaliyah to follow, her eyes scanning the crowd one last time before turning back toward the electronics stall.
As they walked, Cruz’s thoughts churned. She hated how easily Aaliyah had shaken her—how the mere thought of losing her had unraveled the walls Cruz had spent years building. Aaliyah wasn’t supposed to matter this much. She wasn’t supposed to feel like this—like a weight Cruz would willingly carry, no matter how heavy it got.
She shoved the thoughts aside, burying them deep. There was no room for distraction. Not now.
But as they walked deeper into the market, Cruz couldn’t stop herself from glancing at Aaliyah, just to make sure she was still there.