Vincent watched the fire trucks battling the flames that still raged in the warehouse where he had nearly burned alive. He stayed back, hidden among a few forklifts parked dozens of meters away.
He also saw police officers talking to some eyewitnesses, but more concerning were the men in black suits standing among the crowd watching the firefighting efforts.
From their movements, Vincent immediately knew they were Pearson's men. "I can't stay here too long, they might catch me again," he thought as he crouched and slipped away, moving through the piles of old containers.
Once he had put enough distance between himself and the warehouse, he let out a relieved sigh. His eyes fell on the clothes he had found in an open warehouse earlier.
He had spotted a dirty mechanic's uniform hanging on one of the walls, right in front of where he had been watching the crowd. Without a second thought, he put it on.
He also grabbed an old cap, stained with oil, and pulled it over his head. If he was lucky, it would help him avoid being recognized.
But he found no shoes or sandals nearby, and in this snowy weather, that was going to be a big problem. These warehouse areas have high and vast ceilings covering the road, built to prevent forklifts from slipping in this kind of weather.
Gritting his teeth, he took his first step into the cold snow.
"Damn it, I have to find some shoes or something," he muttered as he hurried forward.
As he passed a large dumpster in the back alley of an old workshop, Vincent spotted a left shoe. It looked worn but still intact, and without hesitation, he grabbed it and slipped it on.
Now, he needed a shoe for his right foot.
He kept walking, his eyes scanning his surroundings, searching through other trash bins. Finally, after a few more meters, he found a right shoe.
Feeling as lucky as if he had stumbled upon a pile of gold, he picked it up and put it on immediately. Only then did he realize the two shoes were completely different, one was a sneaker, and the other was a leather shoe.
Vincent let out a long sigh, then continued his walk through the falling snow, heading toward his apartment.
***
With quick steps, constantly pulling his cap lower, Vincent finally arrived in front of the apartment building where he used to live. It was a middle-high apartment complex, and he had never really liked staying there.
To him, the place was too spacious and too expensive, but since Selena loved it, he had no choice but to work hard to afford the rent.
He pushed open the entrance door, but the security guard immediately blocked his way, given how ragged he looked. "Sorry, sir, you can't enter..." The guard trailed off as he suddenly recognized Vincent, who often greeted him when coming in and out.
"Oh, my apologies, sir. I didn't recognize you," he said, eyeing Vincent's clothes from head to toe.
"It's fine," Vincent said with a voice barely audible due to the cold. "I got robbed, including my apartment key," he continued and glancing toward the reception desk.
"I'm sorry to hear that, sir. If you need a replacement key, perhaps you can ask Shierly at the reception," the guard offered as he guided Vincent toward the desk.
The young receptionist, Shierly, looked up when Vincent stood in front of her. She recognized him as well, but her gaze flickered toward the security guard, clearly taken aback by his disheveled appearance.
The security guard nodded slowly, and Shierly glanced back at Vincent, frowning slightly as she noticed him shivering. "Are you alright, sir?" she asked with concern.
Vincent forced a weak smile and replied, "I just need my apartment key," he muttered while rubbing his hands together for warmth.
Shierly quickly retrieved a key and handed it to Vincent before logging it into the computer in front of her. He took it, murmured a quiet thank you, and hurried away from the reception desk.
As he walked, he could still hear Shierly asking the guard why he was dressed like that.
Vincent rushed into the elevator and rode up to the twentieth floor, where his apartment was. As soon as he arrived, he wasted no time unlocking his door.
The place was silent. Usually, Selena's voice would greet him the moment he stepped inside. But now, there was nothing.
He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the tightness in his chest. He wasn't sure if it was sadness or anger, but disappointment weighed heavier. The woman he had loved so deeply had betrayed him, even arranged for his death at the hands of someone else.
Suddenly, he heard the sound of a key turning in another apartment door, snapping him out of his thoughts. His eyes shot open, and he quickly moved toward his bedroom.
He opened his closet and grabbed a few pieces of clothing. Then, he pulled out a hidden compartment in a drawer, sliding away a layer of false wood at the bottom—a secret stash of cash Selena had never known about.
Vincent counted the money before taking a deep breath. It wasn't much, but it was enough to keep him afloat for a few days without drawing attention.
He grabbed his backpack, stuffing it with clothes, important documents, and the cash. Within minutes, he was ready to leave the apartment where he had spent five years with Selena.
Vincent walked along the increasingly empty streets as night settled in. Most people preferred to stay indoors, avoiding the relentless snowfall that had not stopped since the afternoon.
His steps were uneven, his feet still aching from the cold after spending too much time walking barefoot through the snow earlier.
He kept moving, ignoring the few passersby around him, but his eyes remained sharp, scanning for any sign of Pearson's men. He had no intention of being captured again, only to be killed once more by that smug bastard.
After several blocks, he finally spotted a dimly flickering neon sign in the distance: Motel Stardust - Cheap Rates, No Reservation Needed.
He quickened his pace toward the motel, eager to escape the open streets that made him feel so exposed.