The midday sun pierced through the towering glass panes of Woolworths, illuminating the polished tile floors in streaks of liquid gold. Rows of neatly stocked shelves stretched endlessly under the glow of fluorescent lights, and the air was alive with the muted orchestra of modern commerce: the rhythmic clatter of shopping carts, the hushed exchanges of shoppers, and the intermittent chime of barcode scanners. 

Among the customers, Rajesh "Ryder" Stone moved like a ripple in a sea of faces, his presence understated yet deliberate.

Dressed in a navy-blue security uniform, Ryder’s sharp eyes scanned the bustling aisles. The faint creases on his shirt and the slight droop in his utility belt hinted at the toll of a long morning shift. Yet his gaze remained vigilant, cataloging each movement, each anomaly. 

Then, she emerged from the crowd like a ghost slipping through a wall. There was something about her that clung to the edge of his consciousness. 

She moved with a calculated grace, her dark jacket brushing against the shelves as if she were more shadow than substance. Her wide-brimmed hat concealed much of her face, but it couldn’t obscure the precision in her movements. She wasn’t browsing, she was hunting.

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