It was probably naive to expect she was the only one who got this tip, but damn if Mockingbird wasn't a little pissed off to hear the pop and dead weight thud of meat hitting the floor. The end of her ponytail swung in front of that grimy window before she caught it and held it back to peek into the room where the body lay still twitching and the coattails of his attacker disappeared around a corner. She narrowed her eyes and swung back up to her crouch on the roof; now it wasn't just a race against the clock. If this asshole killed her man, that would be the end of her trail.
Silently, Mockingbird darted across the roof, keeping low and following the hall below that her competition took. As it slanted down, she dropped and slid to the edge of a skylight, obscured by bird crap until she scraped off a corner to peek in on the proceedings. Three guards in here, all of them still standing (good), but not her man. He had to be close behind this firepower. Deeper inside the building, not near the windows, if he had any sense. She veered left, away from the north and west walls, holding her breath as she scraped and checked the next skylight. Empty. Somewhere in between. Now what, what's the plan, Mock? Listening, straining her ears, she only heard the call of birds and the griping of the men armed and waiting by LaCroix's car outside. She couldn't wait for him to run, not if Silencer in there had a shot at popping him in the back. She was going to have to warn him to get him out here first.
The smeared glass of the skylight fell through the dusty, stale air of the warehouse with a whistle, and shattered on the concrete floor like a triumphant cymbal.