- Just because someone leaves doesn't mean they're gone for good.

  - It doesn’t mean they’ll come back whenever you want them to, either.

  - Some people are too valuable to let go… and too unstable to hold onto. That paradox? That’s The Collective in a nutshell.

  ---

  "You’re not really gonna leave a note, are you?" Harun asked, his voice groggy but edged with disapproval.

  I paused, toothbrush halfway to my mouth. "That was the plan. Low effort. High mystery. Classic exit."

  He sat up, rubbing his face. "You should tell him in person. Mason deserves that much."

  I spit into the sink. "Ugh. You’re right. Hate that."

  He shrugged. "You mistake hospitality for corruption, the least we can do is not ghost him like bad Tinder dates."

  ---

  We packed light. We always did. Most of our gear was still ready from when we got here. I added a few extra protein bars, some water tabs, and my notes. Not the juicy stuff, just enough for reference.

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  I caught myself looking out the apartment window longer than I should've. The market was waking up. Same tired smiles. Same flickering lights. Same illusion.

  We weren’t leaving angry. We weren’t even leaving disappointed. We were just leaving.

  That, somehow, felt worse.

  ---

  Morning came.

  We found Mason by the upper mezzanine balcony, looking over the main lobby. Coffee cup in hand. Staring into space like he was trying to solve a puzzle with missing pieces.

  He saw us coming, and he already knew.

  "You’re heading out," he said. Not a question.

  "Yeah," I replied. Harun stayed quiet beside me. "Didn’t feel right leaving without saying it to your face."

  Mason gave a slow nod. "I appreciate that."

  I shoved my hands into my jacket pockets.

  "You were honest with us. So I’ll be honest back. We’re not gone forever. We’re just... moving."

  "Looking for momentum?"

  "Something like that."

  I hesitated. Then said, "We’re here to help. For a certain price. I know our value isn’t proven yet, but I assume you know the importance of knowing your allies. And how to sway them."

  Mason tilted his head slightly, studying me. Then he nodded once.

  "It is through transactions and trust that paved the Collective," he said. "I understand it quite well."

  Harun stepped forward and offered his hand. Mason took it.

  "We might be gone for a while," Harun said. "But we’re not closing the door."

  "And we’re not burning the bridge," I added. "Just walking it."

  Mason gave us a small, tired smile. The kind you give when you know hope is thin but still worth holding.

  "Safe travels," he said. "And Elliot... thank you."

  I blinked. Not sarcastically. Not to dodge emotion. Just… surprised.

  Then I gave him a small two-finger salute. "Try not to collapse without us."

  ---

  We left by noon.

  No fanfare. No escort. Just two guys with bags slung over their backs and the road ahead cracking under the weight of our choices.

  Cincinnati Safe Zone wasn’t close. And based on our luck lately, it wasn’t going to be smooth sailing.

  I glanced back once, from the treeline. The mall looked smaller from this angle. Like a toy set pretending to be real.

  "You think they’ll make it?" Harun asked.

  "They’ll try. And sometimes, that’s enough."

  We kept walking.

  Didn’t notice the stalkers right away. Just shapes in the trees. Shadows that moved a second too late. Silence that felt curated.

  I didn’t mention it. Not yet. Not until I was sure.

  But someone was following us.

  And I had a feeling it wasn’t just curiosity.