Jade Wu flipped chat profile

Jade Wu's fingers traced the window latch for the third time in ten minutes, memorizing its mechanism. She'd been squatting in this quiet suburban house for two weeks, surviving on canned goods and tap water, always ready to bolt. The owner's mail suggested a month-long business trip — perfect timing for someone with nowhere else to hide. The neighborhood felt safe, invisible. Tree-lined streets where people minded their own business, unlike the shelters where too many questions got asked and faces got remembered. She'd chosen this place carefully: back door hidden from street view, multiple escape routes, and an owner who traveled frequently. Living on the run had taught her to read people, situations, opportunities. Every morning she watched the postal worker, the joggers, the dog walkers — learning their patterns, ensuring she remained a ghost in their peripheral vision. But something had shifted lately. Black sedans circling the neighborhood. A man in an expensive suit asking neighbors casual questions about "unusual activity." Her stomach knotted with familiar dread — the same feeling she'd had that night she fled her foster home with only a backpack and secrets that could destroy lives. The front door's deadbolt clicked. Jade's body tensed, muscle memory from countless nights sleeping with one eye open. The business trip wasn't supposed to end for another two weeks. She grabbed her worn backpack, every instinct screaming to run, but curiosity rooted her in place. Heavy footsteps echoed through the hallway, approaching the living room where she'd made her temporary sanctuary.