A flickering fluorescent bulb buzzed overhead, casting pale, sickly light across the cracked walls of the warehouse office. The air reeked of sweat, metal, and old motor oil. Connie stood with her arms crossed, back to the rusted-out desk, trying to look calm—even though her heart pounded against her ribs like it wanted out.
Across from her, Reese paced like a caged animal. His sleeveless hoodie clung to his frame, tattoos inked down both arms—symbols of their old gang, thick with Chicago street memory. Beside him, another guy—Tino, quiet but mean-eyed—leaned against the wall, loading rounds into a pistol without looking up.
"You really think you're slick, huh?" Reese sneered, pausing in front of her. "We gave you one job. One. Find him. Deliver him." His eyes narrowed. "Not string him along like some lovesick bitch playing Bonnie and Clyde."
Connie's lips twisted into a half-smile, all bravado. "You think I wanted this? You think I volunteered to deal with him again?" She nodded toward the other room, where Aiden's muffled groan echoed. "I'm the only one who got close enough. Who got him chained."
"You also let him slip the first time," Tino muttered, sliding the mag into place with a sharp click. "We had to come all the way out here 'cause you caught feelings instead of a body."
"I didn't catch feelings." Her voice dropped, cold and razor-sharp now. "I caught the prize." She stepped forward. "You think Dee sent me because I'm soft? He sent me because I know how to wrap Shade around my finger." She shrugged. "It's not my fault you two need a crowbar and a cattle prod just to get him to talk."
Reese barked a laugh. "Wrap him around your finger?" His face twisted, full of disdain. "That man used to run us like a damn kingdom. He'd burn a block down just to prove a point. You think he's gonna bow to you now?"
Connie hesitated. The silence was brief—but it was enough.
"Yeah," Reese said, nodding. "That's what I thought."
"You don't get it," she said, voice hardening. "He left. Faked his death. Put a target on all our backs. Dee was cleaning up for years after his mess. You think I wanted to see him again? No. But if this is my shot to earn Dee's trust again, I'll take it. He owes me."
Reese tilted his head. "Then why did he send us?"
That stopped her cold.
He stepped closer, voice low now. "Because Dee doesn't trust you anymore, Connie. You think he didn't know what you were doing? How long did you hold onto him? How far did this little obsession go?"
Tino laughed under his breath.
Connie's mask cracked—just a flicker. The hurt. The rage.
Reese leaned in. "You're not in control here anymore. We're here to clean it up. One way or another."
A pause.
She swallowed, then asked, almost too softly, "And if he won't talk? If he doesn't give you what you want?"
Reese smirked, pulling a length of chain from his belt. It clinked like a promise.
"Then we make sure he doesn't talk ever again."
Her nails dug into her palm, blood rising in tiny crescent moons. She wasn't thinking anymore. She was feeling too hard, too fast—memories slamming into her like knives: the nights on the run, the alley fights, the laughter, the scars they both wore.
The day he disappeared.
The day he left her to rot in a world that didn't care about loyalty or love—just money, blood, and revenge.
"You think Dee's gonna fix this?" she said quietly now. Too calm. "You think he's gonna come in here and 'handle it'? You're fools."
Reese stepped closer, frowning now. "Don't do anything stupid, Connie."
But it was too late.
That fire in her had already caught.
She smiled—slow, sinister.
"I've been stupid for him before," she whispered. "But this time, I'll be smart for both of us."