Disclaimer:

This story plunges into the shadows of the criminal underworld, where violence is raw, blood is spilled, and nothing is as clean as it seems. It depicts gore, alcohol abuse, and the ruthless world of organized crime. Names, characters, and events are entirely fictional; any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

This content is intended for mature audiences who can handle the darkness. Reader discretion is strongly advised.

Author’s Note:

This work is entirely my original creation and is protected under applicable copyright laws. All rights are reserved. No part of this story, including its characters, plot, wordbuilding, or text in any form, may be copied, reproduced, distributed, translated, posted, or adapted without my explicit written permission. Any unauthorized use, reproduction, or distribution of this work may result in legal action.

Chapter 1 — Between Guns and Glances

“Hey, Jenna, are you done checking those reports for the third time?”

Ava’s voice punctured the clinic’s quiet. She leaned against the reception desk, shutting down the computer, her grayish-blue eyes glinting with mischief.

Jenna glanced up from the ECGs stacked before her. “One last look. You know I can’t leave until it feels right.”

Ava smirked. “You’ve said that every night for five years. If you don’t triple-check every heartbeat here, you’ll have a meltdown.”

“Nightmares,” she muttered, tracing a jagged line across a printout. “Better than missing something.”

Ava laughed softly, nudging a pile of papers aside. “Right. You’d rather fight ghosts than make a mistake.”

Their friendship had grown quietly over the years, beginning the day Ava spilled coffee on her scrubs and Jenna helped her clean it up. Over time, they learned to tolerate each other’s extremes—Ava mocking routines, Jenna enduring chaos.

“Dr. Patel left hours ago,” Ava said, scrolling through her phone. “Pretty sure we’re haunting this place at this hour.”

Jenna closed the file and stretched, letting the familiar beep of the monitor steady her. That sound, the heartbeat, had drawn her to cardiology years ago. When the world felt unpredictable, it never lied.

“See?” Ava leaned forward, fingers drumming the counter. “Most people hear that noise and want to throw the machine out the window. You look like you’re about to write it a love letter.”

She passed her a small smile, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “That sound keeps people alive, Ava.”

Ava shrugged. “Now come on, before Dr. Patel decides we’re too dedicated and gives us extra shifts.”

When Ava reached for the door, Jenna caught her hand on the knob. “Hey, stop looking up cab numbers. I’ll drop you home.”

The other froze mid-step, eyebrow raised. “You serious? It’s late, and your place isn’t even on the way.”

“It’s past midnight. Half a mile past the park won’t change my route. We’ve survived later than this before.”

Ava laughed, tugging her bag strap. “Fine, just this once.”

They shut off the lights. The echo followed them down the hallway as they stepped outside. A sharp wind stirred the leaves across the parking lot. Jenna unlocked the car, tossed her bag on the dash, and slid behind the wheel. Her friend climbed in, black hair brushing her back as she settled.

“Looks like the sky’s about to throw a tantrum,” Ava muttered, fastening her belt.

“Let’s hope it waits until we get home,” she said, adjusting the mirrors and starting the engine.

For a while, neither spoke. The wipers cleared the first drops. Then a groan broke the quiet. “Okay, this quiet is painful. Mind if I play something?”

“Go ahead.” Eyes stayed on the road.

Ava rifled through her bag and took out the earbuds, putting them in without offering any, knowing she didn’t listen to music or take calls while driving. Fingers tapped the phone as she scrolled, the faint click filling the space before the screen illuminated her face.

Streetlights flickered over the wet pavement. One hand stayed on the wheel, the other tapping lightly, noticing reflections, swaying branches, and shifting shadows along the curbs.

Movement caught her eye: three men in black walking along a side street. Not drunk. Not casual. Scanning each parked car like they had names to match. Her grip tightened slightly, pulse rising, but she stayed composed, tracking every movement.

Ava stopped humming, jerking upright as strands fell around her shoulders. “Oh,” she said quietly, eyes narrowing toward the men. “They still haven’t found her. Great.”

Jenna glanced at her, then back at the street, keeping her body composed. “Found who?” she asked evenly.

The earbuds came out. “Rossi’s wife. That filthy underworld man.”

The name hit hard. She stayed neutral, eyes flicking to each man, reading posture, timing steps.

“She ran away last week. Word is, he used to beat her. His guys have been crawling everywhere since. Dad’s business partner mentioned it, everyone in that circle’s talking,” Ava explained.

“And nobody’s helping her?” she asked softly, jaw relaxed, hands firm on the wheel.

“She’s been running nonstop. Keeps changing places just to stay ahead.” Gaze stayed fixed on the men. “But he’s got reach.”

Rain streaked the windshield. Wipers adjusted, letting the world blur but keeping every motion in focus. Pulse quickened slightly, yet breathing remained steady, deliberate.

“Hey. Don’t go there, Jenna. You can’t fix everyone.”

She nodded slowly, exhaling through her nose. “I know. But it doesn’t make it easier to watch.”

Ava leaned back, arms crossed, watching the storm outside. The city melted into streaks of light, but her eyes tracked every detail.

Near the park, headlights flared. One of the men stepped into the road, hand raised. Jenna almost braked until the glint of metal caught her eye—a gun.

Foot frozen, hands steady, she measured the distance, eyes scanning his posture.

The man motioned for her to stop. Every nerve screamed to drive, but she stayed calm, reading his shadow, gauging the distance. A hand pressed briefly to her arm, grounding her.

“Stop,” Ava hissed, voice low.

“They have guns, Ava?” voice remained quiet, steady.

“Trust me,” muttered her friend. “It’s routine for them. Don’t panic.”

The car eased to the curb, movements precise. The man approached, flashlight in one hand, gun hanging loose at his side. Shadow stretched long, deliberate, and cold.

Ava got out first, water dripping from her jacket sleeve, and moved to her side. She unzipped the bag quickly, grabbing the phone, following, expression unreadable.

The chill hit instantly, seeping through her soaked shirt. Blonde hair plastered to her face. She watched the man circle the car, noting every angle, every reflection.

Then the phone buzzed violently in her hand. She didn’t flinch. She lifted it and saw her dad’s name glowing on the screen, but she turned it face down.

Ava leaned closer, shoulder pressing against hers, droplets streaking down her hair and face. “Pick it up, Jenna. It might be important.”

She shook her head. “Later.” How could she answer while standing beside a gunman?

Her dad called every night around this time to check on her. Normally, she’d pick up without a second thought—but not this time.

After what felt like an eternity, the man stepped back, giving a curt nod before walking off.

They slid back into the car, chilled but composed. Ava rubbed her sleeve, shivering. Fingers relaxed on the wheel, the tension lingering in her chest but no longer controlling her.

They exhaled, silently acknowledging relief.

“See, Ava? They’re just underworld puppets. Didn’t even notice we were standing out here soaked and freezing.”

“Can’t complain, dude.” A shrug.

She tossed the phone onto the dashboard and reached for the door when a shout ripped through the storm.

“She’s been found!” someone yelled, rushing toward another man while holding up a phone. “Get in the cars, location’s been traced!”

The voice was deep, raw, commanding, the kind that made her stomach drop. She stayed still, calculating each possibility, silent, observing.

She leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing in the rearview mirror. A memory flashed.

Years ago, Alexa had made her watch that crime movie she had avoided. The man had been on his knees after being caught, pleading, his voice flat, desperate, each word swallowed by the criminal’s cold glare. She had seen the life drain from his eyes, the way fear twisted every line of his face. Then the gun fired. The crack echoed in the theater, louder than anything she had imagined, and his head jerked back, blood spraying the screen. She could still feel those merciless eyes watching through the screen, glaring at her as if she were trapped beneath them.

Ava’s hand pressed lightly on her shoulder, pulling her back from the past. Stomach tightened, but hands didn’t shake. She tracked the fleeing cars, noting every turn, every flash of red taillights.

Exhaling slowly, she lifted her head, and stared ahead. The men sped off, their taillights bleeding through the storm.

Reflection caught in the rearview mirror: honey-brown eyes alert, jaw firm, skin pale beneath the dashboard glow. She barely recognized herself.

“Relax, Jenna,” Ava murmured, brushing a strand of wet hair from her cheek. “You need to breathe.”

She nodded, pulse steadying, hands trembling only slightly.

“God help her,” she whispered, voice quiet, measured. “Wherever she is, people like them don’t deserve mercy.”

The storm blurred the world. A few deep breaths, bracing herself, and she started the engine again. Tonight proved that right and wrong didn’t matter as much as timing. One second changed everything.

The tension didn’t fade, but Ava’s quiet presence beside her reminded her she wasn’t alone.