In the winding, steam-filled alleys of Flushing's commercial district, Leander followed the swift, light-footed figure through a labyrinth of back doors and narrow corridors. They ducked behind a stack of wooden crates, cut through a crowded laundromat, and slipped into a service entrance that smelled of star anise and roasted pork.
Only when they reached the quiet of a windowless hallway did the girl finally release his wrist.
She leaned against the brick wall, her chest heaving as she gasped for air. She was dressed in a light blue athletic tracksuit that looked well-worn, and her short hair was plastered to her forehead with sweat. Despite her exhaustion, her dark eyes were bright and sharp as she looked Leander up and down.
"Hey... are you Chinese?" she panted, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "Why were those thugs tailing you? If you hadn't run when I grabbed you, you would have been in serious trouble. Lucky for you, I was coming back from my run."
Leander stood perfectly composed, not a single bead of sweat on his brow. He watched her with a mixture of curiosity and appreciation. "Yes, I am. And thank you. I had a handle on the situation, but I appreciate the assist. I'm Leander. Leander Hayes."
The girl straightened up, her oval face breaking into a wide, cheerful grin that made her eyes squint into happy slits. "Good. If you'd been a tourist or someone who didn't understand the neighborhood, I would've felt like I wasted my breath. I'm Li Qian. My friends call me Qianqian. My family owns the restaurant through that door."
She was a few centimeters taller than Leander, possessing the lean, toned build of a long-distance runner. She patted his shoulder with a friendly, heavy hand. "You've got great stamina for a freshman. But seriously, how did you get on their radar? Those guys aren't just street punks—they're the kind that come around here collecting 'protection' money from the shopkeepers. They're nasty."
"Come on," she added, beckoning him toward the back kitchen. "The street won't be safe for a while. Let's get you inside."
They slipped through the heavy metal door into a bustling kitchen where large woks hissed over high flames. Li Qian led him past the line of busy cooks and into a small, cluttered break room in the back. She collapsed onto a worn-out sofa, exhaling a long sigh of relief.
"Alright, spill it," she said, looking at him with genuine interest. "What did you do to make them shadow you like that?"
Leander sat in a plastic chair across from her, his expression thoughtful. "Aren't you worried that by bringing me here, you're putting your family's shop in their crosshairs?"
Li Qian waved her hand dismissively, though her eyes remained serious. "You're one of us, right? My dad always says that in a place like Queens, the Chinese community has to stick together. Besides, those guys are the scum of the earth. Helping you was the right thing to do."
She leaned forward. "Now, tell me. Why were they after you?"
"I had a bit of a disagreement with a classmate today," Leander explained, downplaying the fact that he'd nearly snapped the boy's wrist. "He tried to bully me, I taught him a lesson, and I guess he decided to bring some 'extra credit' to handle me after school."
"Who was it? One of the seniors?"
"His name is Mike O'Loughlin," Leander said. "He mentioned his family runs Mike's Fast Food. Apparently, he thinks he owns the borough."
The blood drained from Li Qian's face. She actually jumped slightly, her eyes widening behind her blue-framed sports glasses. "What?! You messed with Mike's Fast Food?!"
Leander raised an eyebrow. "Are they that big of a deal? I just thought he was a spoiled kid with too many burgers."
Before she could answer, the door to the break room creaked open. A middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair and a stern, weathered face walked in, still wearing a grease-stained apron. He stopped in his tracks, looking between his daughter and Leander.
"Qianqian, why are you in here? And who is this?"
"Dad," Li Qian stood up quickly, her voice dropping to a nervous whisper. "This is Leander. He's a freshman at my school. He... he got into it with the people from Mike's Fast Food today."
The man, Li Haiyang, let out a sharp intake of breath. He closed the door firmly behind him, his brow furrowing into a deep, jagged line of worry. He looked at Leander, and when he spoke, his Mandarin was fluent and sharp.
"A child from the mainland? That makes it worse. Leander, do you have any idea who you've provoked? Those people aren't 'fast food' workers."
"I'm beginning to get that impression, Uncle Li," Leander replied in perfect Mandarin, which seemed to soften the man's features slightly, though his worry remained.
"Qianqian, you have to be more careful," Li Haiyang scolded his daughter. "Bringing someone being hunted by Mike's people to our shop... if they find out, they'll burn this place to the ground with us inside."
He turned back to Leander, his voice low and urgent. "Listen to me, boy. Mike's Fast Food is a front. Everyone in Queens who has a business knows it. They are ruthless. If a competitor opens near them, that competitor has 'accidents.' People have died. The police don't touch them because they have friends in high places, and because they are the biggest suppliers of the white powder in the district. They are monsters."
He checked his watch. "You stay here for an hour. Once the streets are busy with the dinner rush, you leave quietly through the back. Don't come back here. It's for your safety as much as ours."
He turned and left the room without waiting for a reply, his steps heavy with the burden of protecting his family.
Li Qian bit her lip, looking at the door. "Don't mind him, Leander. He sounds harsh, but he's actually the kindest man I know. He's the Vice President of the local Chinese Association. He's protected dozens of families from being shaken down. He's just... he's scared for us."
She sat back down, pulling a phone from her tracksuit pocket. "You need to call your parents? Let them know you're safe?"
"I have one, thanks," Leander said, pulling out his sleek, custom-designed smartphone. He tapped the screen, checking the tracker signal he'd placed on Karin. It was still stationary in Manhattan.
Li Qian leaned over, her eyes widening. "Whoa, what model is that? It looks like something out of a sci-fi movie. I've never seen a screen that clear."
"It's a custom build," Leander said simply. "It has... specific security features."
Li Qian tried to take it to look closer, but the screen immediately went dark as it failed to recognize her biometric signature. "Tough security," she laughed. "Anyway, look. Since you're a freshman at City Center and I'm a sophomore, that makes me your Senpai, right? I've got to look out for you."
She stood up and extended her hand again, this time for a formal greeting. "Let's do this right. My name is Li Qian. I'm fifteen, I love track and field, and I officially think you're either very brave or very stupid. Either way, I like you."
Leander shook her hand, feeling the calluses from her athletic training. "I'm Leander Hayes. Fourteen. And I'm just someone who doesn't like being told what to do."
"Fair enough," she said, pulling her phone back out. "Give me your number. If Mike tries anything tomorrow at school, you call me. My dad has weight in the Association; even Mike's people hesitate to start a race war in Flushing. I can at least get you home safely."
Leander unlocked his phone with a thumbprint and let her input her digits. As she did, he asked, "If these guys are as bad as your father says—if they're killing people and selling drugs—why hasn't anyone taken them down? Surely the FBI or the DEA would care."
Li Qian's expression darkened. "They're smart. They use the restaurants to wash the money. And like Dad said, they have 'friends.' Anyone who talks ends up at the bottom of the East River. It's better to just pay the tax and keep your head down."
"That sounds like a terrible way to live," Leander said, his voice cold. Under the table, his fingers brushed against the metal frame of the chair, feeling the vibration of the world around him. "In fact, it sounds like the world would be a lot better off if Mike's 'influence' simply stopped existing."
Li Qian looked at him, startled by the sudden intensity in his eyes. For a second, he didn't look like a fourteen-year-old boy. He looked like something ancient and dangerous.
"Leander... don't talk like that," she said nervously. "This is America. There are guns everywhere. It's not a movie. Just apologize to Mike tomorrow. Swallow your pride and stay alive. Okay?"
She finished typing her number and handed the phone back. "There. If you get into trouble, you call your Senpai Li, got it?"