"Destroy the world?" "Well... yeah, we could do that." –––––––––––––– At just 21, Angela never imagined that working one of New York's most dangerous cases would lead to taking in Brianna-a 15-year-old girl with a deadly secret. She's the daughter of the city's most feared mafia boss. –––––––––––––– "Delinquent, huh?" His brows lift, brushing off my warning as if it were nothing. "Would you prefer criminal?" I counter. "I'd rather you not judge me based on how I look," he deadpans. "Am I wrong?" He scoffs, glancing away just long enough to sharpen the angle of his jaw before his gaze meets mine again. "I'm not here to take her," he says, dodging the accusation. "I just need to make sure she's safe."
Chapter 1 1
ON A NORMAL Wednesday afternoon, Angela sat on the living room rug eating popcorn slightly hot from the microwave and flavoured in salt. Her brother, Vossi, sat on the couch, curled around a blanket and watching television with a glass of milk in hand.
Angela was always different from her brother; her long brown locks remaining straight while her brother's were short and curly.
It wasn't only that. She thought differently too.
Through her eyes, the world was numbers and shapes rather than colours and letters. She would calculate rather than observe, and think instead of enjoy.
Her parents brushed her off as just special.
Vossi yawned and stretched, pressing his cheek against his sister's leg.
Outside the sun was shining, scorching with the asphalt of driveways. Lawn mower engines whirred, and children splashed in the backyard pools.
Dad was somewhere out back, mom in the kitchen preparing dinner. It was an utterly normal and compliant day - nothing seemed to be out of place.
When in the far hallway a clatter of some left over boxes came, Angela hopped up to check on it. She hoped it might be her cat Whiskers, screwing around and in the mood to play.
Instead, a man stood in her hallway - how he got in she didn't know - and glared down at her through his face mask.
He wore a beige leather coat from his neck to his toes despite the blazing heat. His shoes were decorated with silver metals and more beige leather, and they rang in a deafening pitch as he stepped over the threshold towards Angela.
"Mom!" Angela yelled, "Someone's here!"
Her mother came from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her jeans. When she saw the man she stopped and stared in confusion, until it melted into fear.
"Go upstairs." She spoke. "Run."
"Whose child is this?" The man asked. His face wasn't readable as all Angela could see was his daring eyes, but his voice was oddly accented, "Mine? His?"
"No one's," Mom's voice croaked, "She's no one's child."
That wasn't right. Not one bit. Angela and Vossi looked just like their mom. Everyone said so. There was no denying the three of them were related.
Angela took a few steps towards the stairs but didn't want to go alone.
Vossi, Angela thought. He was older after all - definitely not wiser - but braver.
Yet Angela couldn't seem to make herself move any farther.
Mom seemed speechless. Her body was visibly still. Angela wanted to take her hand and squeeze it, reassure her, tell her that everything would be okay and he would leave soon, but she didn't dare.
The man stepped forward towards Angela's mother, and still, Angela couldn't move.
"Did you seriously think a happy ever after would be this easy?" The man asked again with a scoff, the notes on the ends of his words leaving rough cords with his accent.
Mom stared at him still, breathing heavier, shivering more clearly.
He took a step toward her, and she took a step back. He would make a move; she would fall.
As Angela watched what was happening, the numbers and shapes would come to life, and she'd see a bishop and a pawn.
There was something wrong with this man. He moved stiffly as though he was hesitant, but stiffly as though he was confident.
"I was never going to be happy with you," Mom said as tears glossed over her eyes, "Your world wasn't made for me, if I knew sooner, I would have never talked to you."
The tall man regarded her for a long moment before speaking five cruel and empty words. "But you made a promise, Hope." He said finally.
Mom lifted her chin. "And then I broke it."
Pawn doesn't move, not forwards, nor backwards, Angela thought, still not sensing the amount of danger she was in.
The man's gaze went to Angela.
Little eight-year-old Angela, a girl barely able to lift a bucket.
Although she should have been scared, Angela was still trying to decipher his mannerisms and figure out what his next move would be.
She couldn't figure it out. For once, her mind wasn't capable enough to transcribe his movements.
Angela dashed into the living room.
Vossi was still drowsy. The television was still on. He looked up with half-lidded eyes. "Who's at the door?" He asked, "I heard mom speaking."
"A stranger," Angela told him, "come upstairs with me."
With a sigh, Vossi unfolded from the couch and followed Angela into the hallway, expecting nothing of her ramblings.
As they started towards the stairs, Angela saw her father come in from the backyard.
He warily held a shotgun. It wasn't weird to see him holding one. What was odd was the way he held the weapon, as if he was going to-
Her father aimed the gun at the tall man.
The knight made his move.
Angela and Vossi's father never raised a hand on either of them, even when they got into big trouble. He wouldn't hurt anyone. He just wouldn't.
And yet...
The gun fired, skimming the tall man's ear as he barely dodged it, the bullet biting into the wood trim of their front door.
The tall man drew a ridged dagger from beneath his coat.
Dad was trying to reload his gun when the man plunged his dagger into his stomach, holding it there before twisting it and shoving it upwards.
There was a sound, like sticks snapping, and then an animal cry.
Dad fell to the carpet, limp, and unmoving. Although now, the carpet was tracked with blood. Crimson, bright, red, blood.
Bishop takes knight.
Mom screamed. Angela screamed. Vossi screamed. Everyone seemed to be screaming except for him. Except the man with the actual blood on his hands.
"Come here." He said, looking towards their mother.
"You killed him!" Mom shouted instead, moving toward the kitchen, "You killed him." She sobbed as she did.
"Do not run from me," The man declared, "Not after what you've done-"
But she did run. She was almost around the corner of their kitchen island when his dagger struck her back.
She crumpled to the floor, arms knocking magnets off the fridge in the process.
The metallic smell of fresh blood was heavy in the air, like wet, hot metal. Like some cleaning equipment mom would use on her spring cleaning days. Smelly, overwhelming, and everlasting.
Permanent.
Something that would leave a scar.
Angela ran at the man, slamming her tiny fists against his chest and kicking at his legs with her feet. She wasn't even scared. She wasn't sure she could feel scared when all she could feel was rage.
The man paid no attention to Angela. For a long moment, he just stood there, as though he couldn't quite believe what he'd done. As though he wished he could take back the last five minutes.
Then, he sank to one knee and sobbed.
He cried. He cried after killing Angela's mother.
Angela could only feel more annoyed at what an inconvenience this all was.
If he was going to cry, then why did he do it in the first place?
"I'm going to fucking kill you!" Vossi roared, tears streaming down his face as Angela dropped to her knees and subconsciously soaked them in her mother's blood.
Even though Vossi was stronger than Angela, his fourteen-year-old self holding more years, the man didn't budge when he wrestled him.
Instead, the man abruptly stood up. He stared at them with his disinterested eyes before turning around, and leaving out the front door as sirens echoed in the distance.
Chapter 1 1
24/02/2025
Chapter 2 2
24/02/2025
Chapter 3 3
24/02/2025
Chapter 4 4
24/02/2025
Chapter 5 5
24/02/2025
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