Eleonora trudged through the city’s damp streets, shoulders slightly hunched, her narrowed eyes glued to the small black rectangle cradled in her hands.

The phone buzzed now and then, letting out beeps that made her scowl like she was staring down some weird bug.

The screen displayed a jagged blue line—supposedly a map—but to her, it might as well have been a kid’s doodle after too much sugar.

“Why’s this thing so damn complicated?” she muttered, irritation lacing her voice.

Her fingers jabbed the screen harder than necessary, triggering a shrill “rerouting” from the GPS that made her huff.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, you useless piece of junk! Quit yelling at me!”

Around her, the city’s clamor rolled on. The splash of cars through puddles, the hum of hurried voices under umbrellas, and the flickering buzz of neon signs filled the air.

“Hey, Leonar! What’s your deal—are you deaf or something?”

“Yeah, look at us when we’re talking to you, moron!”

Eleonora didn’t even turn her head. Her eyes stayed locked on the phone as she adjusted her path, stepping left to avoid a side alley the GPS had nixed with an insistent beep.

The grumbling from those guys—whoever they were—was like flies buzzing near her ear: annoying, but easy to tune out.

After all, this wasn’t her body, so it wasn’t her problem.

Or so she thought—until a rough hand clamped onto her arm and yanked her back hard.

Eleonora stumbled a step, more startled than off-balance, and finally peeled her gaze from the phone.

Three guys loomed in front of her. The tallest had a scruffy beard that hadn’t seen a comb in years, a scar slashing across his left eyebrow like it was screaming, “I’m dangerous!”

The second, shorter but just as stocky, sported a ragged T-shirt and a crooked dragon tattoo snaking down his forearm.

The third, a scrawny guy with greasy hair plastered to his forehead, flashed a lopsided grin that showed off a missing tooth.

“Leonar, you useless sack!” the bearded one growled, crossing his arms as he sized her up with disdain. “What’s wrong with you? Think you’re hot stuff now ‘cause you won’t even look at us or say a word?”

Tattoo stepped forward, jabbing an accusing finger that quivered with pent-up rage.

“Where’ve you been, huh? Think you can dodge us forever? The deadline’s almost up, you idiot, and Tito’s pissed.”

“Tito’s given you way too many chances already,” the skinny one chimed in, letting out a nasal chuckle that sounded more like a snort. “If you don’t have the cash, you’ll have to pay him some other way, y’know? Maybe with that dumb pretty-boy face of yours.”

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Eleonora blinked slowly, her expression as flat as a plank of wood.

She dropped her eyes back to the phone, completely ignoring the trio of goons now circling her like growling dogs around a bone.

The GPS pointed an arrow straight ahead—right where these three were planted, blocking her way.

Her lips pursed in annoyance, and she lifted her gaze again, a spark of irritation flickering in her eyes.

“Move,” she said, her voice sharp and no-nonsense, not a hint of doubt or fear.

For a second, the three froze, staring at her wide-eyed like they’d just heard a kitten roar like a lion.

Then Beard erupted into a hoarse laugh, slapping his thigh with his palm.

“What’d you say, you little punk?” he wheezed between guffaws, while Tattoo joined in with a high-pitched giggle that bordered on a squeal. “‘Move’? Seriously? Who do you think you are now, Leonar? King of the block?”

Skinny wiped an imaginary tear from his eye, still snickering as he leaned toward her.

“What happened to you, huh? You used to crawl around begging us for more time, and now you’re talking like some big shot. Did you hit your head or what?”

Eleonora tilted her head slightly, as if trying to figure out whether these guys were an actual threat or just a pack of loud clowns.

Her utter calm seemed to throw them off even more—because the Leonar they knew, the sweaty, stammering mess who’d grovel for excuses, wasn’t here.

This Leonar looked at them like they were a minor nuisance, a puddle in her path she just needed to sidestep.

Then she remembered Leonar’s words before handing over his body:

“Don’t get into trouble, Eleonora. If something comes up, avoid it at all costs. But if there’s no other way, and they’re not hunters or cops, do what you have to. Just don’t land me in a mess with the authorities, got it?”

She’d nodded reluctantly, mostly to shut him up.

And now, sizing up these three, it hit her that maybe this was one of those times where “doing what she had to” was the fastest fix.

Phone still in one hand, Eleonora stepped forward, planting herself right in the middle of the trio.

The goons exchanged confused glances at her lack of reaction, but before they could say more, she spoke in that same flat, icy tone.

“Are you cops?”

Beard blinked, his laughter cutting off like someone flipped a switch.

“What?”

“Are you hunters?” she pressed, raising an eyebrow as she scanned each of them.

Tattoo scowled, crossing his arms with a look of disbelief.

“What the hell are you babbling about, Leonar? Is this some kind of joke? Think you’re gonna wiggle out of Tito’s grip with this nonsense?”

Skinny let out another snort, elbowing Beard.

“Look at this loser, playing crazy now. What’s next, you gonna say you don’t even know us?”

Eleonora didn’t answer right away.

Her eyes flicked back to the phone, confirming the GPS arrow still pointed past these three.

Then, with a sigh that sounded more bored than resigned, she looked up and repeated, slower this time, like she was giving them one last shot.

“Are you cops or hunters? Answer.”

Beard clenched his fists, his face flushing with raw frustration.

“Obviously neither, you moron! We’re the guys you owe a ton of cash to, and if you don’t start making sense—”

He didn’t finish. In a blur so fast it barely registered, Eleonora stepped forward, her free hand snapping toward Beard’s throat.

With a single, precise strike just below his jaw, he crumpled like a sack of potatoes, eyes rolling back before he hit the ground.

The other two gaped, but before they could react, she pivoted on her heels—still holding the phone like it was no big deal—and repeated the move.

One hit to Tattoo’s neck, then Skinny’s, both dropping with choked groans, one after the other.

In under three seconds, all three goons were sprawled on the sidewalk, out cold, legs twitching like broken toys.

Eleonora eyed them for a moment, frowning as if debating whether she’d made too much noise.

Then, with a shrug, she turned back to her phone and muttered to herself, “What a waste of time…”

Without bothering to drag them aside, she stepped over Beard’s body and kept walking, following the GPS’s blue arrow like nothing had happened.

The rain kept falling, splashing puddles around her, and the sound of her wet footsteps mingled with the distant hum of cars.

She didn’t notice—or maybe didn’t care—that a traffic camera at the nearby light had swiveled slowly, its gleaming lens silently recording every move of the figure now strolling away.