You can't look at her. You push past Elizabeth, the go-bag heavy on your shoulder. She calls your name once, a sound that will echo in your head for the rest of your life. You think you are being smart. You think a physical bag and a burner passport can outrun a digital warrant. You take three steps toward the stairwell before you hear it: heavy boots pounding up the steps, the heavy clatter of tactical gear, and a voice barking a floor number. There is no airport. There is no escape. In modern cybercrime, running from a physical location is useless when the digital trap has already snapped shut. In fact, the truth is that Mango sold you out hours ago. You underestimated the defenders; your face is already in the Europol database. Your burner phone connected to a cell tower that the FBI was monitoring only an hour ago. You made it exactly as far as your front door. Panic takes over. You backpedal, grabbing Elizabeth's arm and pulling her back inside the apartment, locking the deadbolt behind you. It is a flimsy barrier against what is coming. You drop the go-bag on the floor. The digital ties you trusted have sold you out, and the real-world ties you tried to abandon are now trapped in the room with you. [[The Arrest|Wait for the breach]]