Frozen Fire - Volume One: Fragments

1: Sylvie Bishop

Did you guys really think I'd be gone for good? Nope! Frozen Fire is back!! I've replanned the whole first volume and here is our rewritten first chapter. Old faces and new faces will appear and soon you'll see what I have planned! It's been a blast planning this and now here it is!! Happy New Year everyone, happy 2023! This will also be my last year in school before I leave for University!

Remember to follow me on twitter@/angeIheaven or on @/lesslayrafimm if you don't mind kpop-related tweets. Remember to vote, comment and share (reminder that I adore comments and will read every single one and that it keeps me going ^^) and here we go!

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Sylvie supposed she had a penchant for attracting trouble.

Being dragged into an alley and sliced with a knife was not how she expected her day to start, but hey.

The cut wasn't deep, it didn't change the fact that pain shot through her arm as she stumbled back. She let out a few breaths, trying to scan the faces in front of her. Her left hand instinctively hovered over the cut on her right arm. She held her breath for a split second and balled her hand into a fist, letting it fall to her side. She tried to stand up straight. She wasn't going to appear weak in front of them. They all covered their faces somehow- face masks, sunglasses, cloths. She could smell the stench of smoke and car fumes off of them and could see the matching tattoos that clung onto their arms like inky blankets of colour.

She saw a glimmer of white light as one of them pointed a knife at her, the silver metal glittering in the sun. Summer was fading, autumn was slowly settling in. The bright and hot sun shone down but the cool, chilling autumn winds still flew through the air. "Don't move," one said. Their voice was gruff, deep. "You know who we are?" He asked as she rolled her eyes.

"Do you know who I am?" She countered. She noted how the man with the knife differed from the ones around him. They all looked like stereotypical bikers - leather jackets, sunglasses, those matching tattoos of red sharks and crocodiles. Yet the man with the knife was in all black, a black trench coat around his body, a black face mask and fedora. She could see the others shake slightly, whilst he remained steady, almost trained. He moved closer, the knife now lightly pressed against her cheek. A cold yet sharp feeling against her skin.

"If I were you, I'd keep that mouth of yours shut," his voice was almost as emotionless as hers. She stared back at him, not wavering in the slightest. Blood travelled down her arm, the crimson liquid blending in with the deep burgundy colour of her blazer and staining the pale yellow shirt beneath it. "Now," he started, "We're from the Red Fang, I'm sure you've heard of us?" The girl raised a brow. The Red Fang were a notorious, but generally smaller crime syndicate. But she'd never heard of them being active in the big city.

What are they doing here? "Do you just... go around telling everyone who you're affiliated with?" The man stepped closer.

"Only if we have business with you," Sylvie felt the blade press against her cheek. He didn't like her attitude, most people didn't. "We normally like keeping to the outskirts, not bothering pricks like you in the big city unless you owe us money," his voice was gruff, annoyed.

"As far as I know, I don't owe you anything. So just let me go home," her voice unnerved him. It was cold, devoid of any feeling, as if he hadn't just struck her arm with a knife. She had more guts than he expected. He chuckled, sounding more impressed if anything.

"No... no you see, someone's paying us a lot of money to take you in, and he had a lot of money to throw around when we started bargaining," Glowing orange eyes met her icy blue ones.