The Man From the Library
For a second, Dombi couldn't move.
She sat frozen in the stiff plastic chair, her hands still hovering above the keyboard. The world around her — the old library, the flickering fluorescent light, the dusty bookshelves — all blurred into the background.
Only one thing felt real:
The man's reflection staring back at her.
Tall.
Broad shoulders.
A navy hoodie pulled low, hiding most of his face.
But his voice…
his voice was calm.
Controlled.
Too controlled.
"You shouldn't have opened that."
Her heart pounded so loudly she felt it in her ears.
She didn't turn around.
Not yet.
Turning meant confirming danger.
Turning meant reacting.
Instead, she whispered:
"Who are you?"
The man didn't answer immediately.
He stepped closer — slow, deliberate steps.
Not threatening.
Not rushed.
Like someone who wasn't afraid of being seen.
He stopped just behind her chair.
"Close the files," he said quietly. "Take the USB out. Slowly."
Her throat tightened.
"Why?" she whispered.
"Because two men walked in five minutes ago," he replied, voice low. "They asked the librarian if anyone suspicious was using the computers."
Dombi's blood turned to ice.
Mandla's men.
"They described you," the man continued calmly. "Everything. Clothes. Bag. Height. Even your braids."
Her pulse spiked.
"How do you know they're looking for me?" she asked.
He exhaled sharply through his nose — almost a subtle laugh.
"Because," he said, "that's exactly what they asked me."
Her lungs tightened.
"You spoke to them?" she whispered.
"Yes."
She swallowed hard.
"And what did you tell them?"
He leaned down just enough for his words to hit her ear like a quiet warning:
"That you already left."
For the first time, Dombi turned to look at him — really look.
He was young. Maybe late twenties.
Sharp jawline.
Dark, alert eyes that scanned everything behind her even while speaking to her.
He kept his hood up, but there was something familiar about him… something she couldn't place.
She didn't sense hatred.
Or danger.
But she did sense urgency.
"Why are you helping me?" she asked.
He didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he pointed subtly toward the front desk.
Dombi's eyes followed.
Two men in black jackets.
One scrolling through his phone.
The other scanning the room, gaze sweeping the computers in slow, threatening circles.
Her stomach dropped.
"They're checking one by one," the man whispered. "You have maybe sixty seconds before they reach this row."
Her chest tightened.
The man looked at her again — this time directly, urgently.
"Take the USB. Now."
Her hands moved before her brain did. She yanked out the USB and shoved it deep into her backpack.
He straightened up.
"Good," he said. "Now, listen carefully."
He took a step back, keeping his face angled away from view.
"When I walk away, wait five seconds," he murmured. "Then follow me quietly. Don't run. Don't look back."
Her heart hammered.
"And if I don't trust you?" she whispered.
He paused.
Then answered with a truth she didn't expect:
"You shouldn't."
Her breath hitched.
"But you don't have a choice right now."
He walked off casually, heading toward the far side of the library where the shelves were tall and the light was dim.
Five seconds felt like a lifetime.
Dombi grabbed her bag, stood up slowly, and followed.
The men in black were now at the opposite end of her row — checking screens, checking faces, getting closer.
She slipped behind the bookshelves.
The man was waiting.
He moved quickly but quietly toward a back door marked STAFF ONLY.
She whispered urgently, "You work here?"
"No," he said.
He pushed the door open slightly and checked the hallway.
"Then how did you know about this exit?"
His answer was short.
"I know this city."
She hesitated.
He stopped, turned, and looked at her properly for the first time.
Those eyes again — sharp, guarded, but strangely sincere.
"If I wanted to hand you over," he said softly, "I wouldn't be guiding you out the back."
A loud voice echoed from the library floor:
"She's here somewhere! Check the back!"
Her body jolted.
The man opened the door wider.
"Dombi," he said firmly, "if you want to stay alive, move."
She stepped through the doorway.
The metal door closed behind them just as footsteps rushed their way...