Burning The Syndicate For My Broken Girl

po, but behind the grand estate doors, my

brutal world was a stray

a dumpster, and my father whipped my back with a

for sanctuary, only to find ev

weaponized our

the entire underworld, diagnosing me with

hed from reality," my mo

he Academy ordered me to be sent back t

I was just te

protect monsters who gaslit their

rew myself off the roof of

when my broken body hi

d Dante, the most ruthless boss in the

my surviving kitten, and turned

even if I have to burn thi

pte

ya

ed into the

across the white plate like a slow bruise. I watched a single drop slide down the rim and pool against

traveled through my thigh and up

cracked screen. One message. A kitchen boy from our estate, the only ser

rds to dispose of it in a dumpster inside rival territory. I'm

ath st

gs. The red fluid on the plate blurred and doubled. I stared at it, unblinking, and behind

ger

ining hall like a bone snapping. My fingers convulsed around the silver handle, knuckles straining

ainted eyes, hollow and black, fixed on my straining fingers. He had bu

ne s

y shoulders like a weighted coat. I could feel it in my eardrums, a low pressure that made every small s

med down her

naked up the stem, and a bead of deep red Caber

ers, her upper lip curling back from her teeth. "You pathetic stray. Your depression. Your anxiety." She spat the wor

er who it was. Some associate. Some uncle.

roaned, oak against polish, and the sound ech

wrong-scraped raw, barely a whispe

t d

ver needed to. His baritone carried the weight of absolute authority, the kind that

ve to

cademy, lined with my old sweaters. I'd syringe-fed him warm milk every three hours. I'd woken at dawn to clean his tiny messes before my roommate could report t

not going

s moved in perfect synchronization, stepping inward, blocking the exit. Their hands rested on t

nails, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "I ordered the

ce water injected st

sure built behind my eyes, blurring her face into a smear of pale skin a

racked in half

sound with no warmth behind it,

with the detached curiosity of a child examining a crushed

ra

ungs burning, the side door the only thing i

round a fistful of my hai

ine. The Persian rug rushed up to meet me-thick wool, woven with gold thread, a ten-thousand-dollar family heirloom that sm

m above me, calm and measured. A judge delivering a

d before I under

sliding thr

ee of the loops with a wet, hissing rasp that sent ice flooding through my stomach. Every muscle in my body locked. The cold

hing you

lt whi

nter of my back, and

adiating outward in waves of liquid fire. The thin silk of my dress split open. Cold air hit wet, exposed flesh. A

scream. I would not. His enforcers stood like caryatids against the walls, their faces blank, their eyes empty. To t

t me

sharp snap that echoed inside my chest. The second blow hurt wors

heels circled my prone body, slow and deliberate. I heard her kneel, felt he

vision as she stood, raised her heel-red-soled Loubou

mp spiderwebb

The phone's frame bent, the motherboard inside crack

d floor. A death rattle. The screen flickered

he cracked glass biting into my palm. I shoved it deep into my pocket, pressing it against my thigh, fee

his knuckles. The leather creake

and. "We're going to your uncle's house. You will smile. You will apologize

ket. Somewhere across the city, a tiny orange kitten was al