We Were Written In Blood

The acrid smell of coffee filled the air as Evelyn Bennett sat in her office at the Cook County State's Attorney's Office, perusing the thick case file in front of her. The fluorescent light above her flickered a bit, casting an eerie glow over the mountain of papers before her. Outside, Chicago's post-midnight traffic hummed down the city's narrow streets, but Eve hardly noticed it. Her attention focused on one name written in front of her in forceful black ink. Luis Ortega.

Eve was a striking woman in her late 20s. Sharp brown eyes, dark brown wavy hair, and defined cheekbones. She carried herself with poise, favoring tailored outfits that enhance her commanding and undeniable presence.

She pulled out a crime scene photo from the case file on her table. A dimly lit alleyway, blood pooling besides a body. A familiar crime signature. She didn't have to check the report to know. Ortega was a lieutenant for El Reino Oscuro, Chicago's most feared gang-the same gang responsible for the death of her husband, Luke.

Her fingers tightened around the paper. Was this fate? That out of all the cases in the city, this one had landed on her desk? Or was the universe testing her, daring her to walk the thin line between justice and revenge?

She took a slow breath, pushing the anger down. She had spent the past three years sharpening herself into a weapon against people like Ortega, but she couldn't afford to make mistakes. This case wasn't about her past-it was about putting a criminal behind bars. She repeated that to herself. Over and over, but deep inside, she knew it was a lie.

Her jaw clenched. The gang had evaded the police for years, leaving a trail of violence behind them, but Ortega had finally made a mistake. A raid in Little Village had led to his arrest, and evidence of financial crimes that might connect him to drug dealing, extortion, and even murder. It was her job to make sure he didn't get away.

This wasn't just any case. This was her long-awaited opportunity for revenge. She was distracted by a knock on her door. She straightened up as her supervisor came in. Dressed in his standard gray suit, he carried himself with authority-though tonight, his expression was unreadable.

"Still here?" he asked, inclining towards the untouched dinner container on her desk. "You do know the trial doesn't start for another week, right?"

Eve folded her arms and sat back. "I want to be prepared."

He let out a breath and shut the door. "I understand how much this case means to you, but don't forget. Ortega is not a man to be underestimated, and you and I both know that the El Reino Oscuro cartel doesn't play by the book."

"I'm not going to lose."

He observed her for a long time before he nodded. "Good. Because if we win, then Ortega might flip, and if he flips, then maybe we can finally get our shot at the man at the top."

Eve's heart gave a little flip. Antonio Costa, otherwise known by his more popular alias, El Gusano. A ghost in the criminal underworld. El Reino Oscuro's leader. The one name that law enforcement could never pin anything on. If Ortega turned informant, she might finally get the proof she needed to take Costa down.

Her supervisor placed a folder on her desk. "Review this and get some rest. You'll need it."

Eve nodded, but as soon as the door closed behind him, she reached for the file.

She had no intention of stopping.

---

Two hours had passed, and Eve sat at her desk, reading over the evidence again.

The problem with the case against Ortega was that it held up-drug trafficking, racketeering, money laundering-but the challenge was proving his direct connection to El Reino Oscuro. The cartel operated through connections of middlemen, so it was nearly impossible to trace the crimes back to the ones calling the shots.

The documents they had seized showed deposits in foreign accounts, shell corporations connected to Cicero and Pilsen properties, but nothing that would land Costa in a courtroom.

One person caught her interest, a retired bookkeeper for El Reino Oscuro. He had vanished years ago, having flipped on his old crew, he was put into witness protection, currently presumed dead or living under an alias. If she could find him, he might be the missing piece of the puzzle.

Her mind reeled. She needed more info, more leverage. She glanced at the clock. 11:47 PM. Too late to place a phone call, but not too late to get moving. She grabbed her jacket off the coat rack, took one gulp of her now cold coffee, and headed for the door.

-

The weight of the night air hit her as she emerged. The streets of the Little Village were quieter than usual, but Eve was not so innocent that she believed she was by herself. She had been handling cases against organized crime long enough to recognize when she was being tail-gated.

She entered her car and started the engine, keeping her eyes on the rearview mirror. A black SUV sat two spaces back. Her stomach twisted. She pulled out of the lot, driving at a steady pace, but the SUV followed.

A warning?

She gripped the wheel tighter. If they wanted to scare off a prosecutor from a case, they had picked the wrong person.

Her phone rang, a hidden number. She hesitated, then answered. A deep, static-laced voice came through. "Drop the case, Prosecutor."

Her blood ran cold. "Not a chance."

Silence. Then, a slow-almost disappointed-exhale. "You don't know what you're getting into."

The line went dead. Eve exhaled, her hand trembling a little as she set the phone on the passenger's seat.

They wanted to frighten her, but they were not going to succeed.

---

As she came home, fatigue tugged at her muscles, but her mind would not allow her to sleep. She set the case file on the table, staring at Ortega's face. He was but a stepping stone in the long walk of revenge. She could not afford to get intimidated now.

She would take down Ortega, and then finally... She would come for Antonio Costa-at any cost.