A Flame Divine ♕

P R O L O G U E

P A R K  S L O P E–B R O O K L Y N, N Y

He could no longer stand it. The dirty money, the guns, the ruination of lives. He never wanted to hurt anyone. No, he only did it to survive. At least, that is what he told himself.

He ran his hands over his light brown hair, blowing a breath out of his cheeks. Waiting in the living room of the clubhouse for his buddies to return, his knee bounced up and down in a repetitive, nervous motion. He had refused to go on the job tonight, and Vinnie may have his head for it.

Somehow, he could never find it in him to separate himself from the one thing that put food in his mouth and a roof over his head. He will never forget the days, weeks even, he would spend on the streets before they took him in. Not knowing when the next meal would be is something that stayed with him, even now. The gang had provided... but at a cost. The cost of his humanity. The cost of his freedom.

After all, in exchange for basic human needs to be met, he did whatever Vinnie told him to. Robbery, drive-bys, drug deals... was it possible to hate himself any more?

Because no matter what he said to justify it or explain it, he knew it was wrong. He knew this life he led was not right. The guilt, the shame... he did not have the heart for it. He was too soft.

But once you're in a gang like this one, you're in. They won't let you go without a fight. A fight that was impossible to win.

Never did he want a life like this.

He took a deciding breath. He would leave. Tonight. He would disappear as if he never existed.

Then, he would be free.

G A G E  P A R K – C H I C A G O

"You fucking bitch."

Those were the words she heard every day of her life–not her name, not a term of endearment–"you fucking bitch."

"What did I do this time?" she mumbled, and immediately, a hard palm stuck her across the face.

"What did you say to me?" he hissed, leaning so far into her face that she could smell the stale whiskey on his breath.

She winced, tears immediately stinging her eyes. "N-nothing," she murmured, placing a delicate hand to her cheek, pressing against the pain.

"That's what I thought," he spat, blowing smoke from his 10th Marlboro Red of the evening in her face.

Turning away, she coughed into her hand, her cheek aching with the movement. "I'm sorry," she croaked. "Whatever I did, I'm sorry."

He glared at her and rolled his eyes. "Save it. You knew I had a seller coming to the apartment tonight. You were supposed to fucking clean this pigsty. And you didn't. What the fuck are you even good for?"

She chewed her lip. She hadn't cleaned because she'd been laid up in the bed all day due to the savage beating he'd given her the night before; the bruises on her back were angry and purple today, just another piece of her broken life.

"I'll do it now," she whispered, standing up from the couch.

Scoffing, he lit another cigarette and took a swig of Crown Royal straight from the bottle. "It's too late now, dumbass. They'll be here in 20 minutes, and I need you looking better than you do right now," he sneered, grabbing her elbow and shoving her toward their bedroom. "Go pretty up."

She trudged down the hall, hanging her head.

What have I become? she thought. What have I let him do to me?

W E S T  L O O P – C H I C A G O

Idiot, he thought.

Swirling the liquor in his glass, he regarded the bedraggled man in front of him who was fidgeting with the buttons on his ill-fitting suit coat. This was his last chance.

"You can be trusted, can't you? You know what happens if you don't complete the transaction," he said, more of a statement than a question. The other man nodded vigorously. He would get the job done, quickly and efficiently, or he wouldn't see the next dawn.

That was the way the business works. One could not be a black-market mogul and let people off easy. There was a reason his inferiors called him the Ice Boss, after all. He could thank his father for that.

After taking a sip, he set his glass onto a coaster, loathing the wet rings it would make on his mahogany table.

"Get to it," he commanded, dismissing the other man with a cold look just as his cell phone rang.

He frowned at the name lighting up the screen. It was Jesse, one of his nightly companions. But tonight, he was not in the mood. He declined the call.

He loosened his tie, picking his glass back up. He was tired. Tired of the tough-act. Tired of pretending to care. Tired of the empty relationships.

Tired of being alone.

Finishing his alcohol, he glanced back at his phone.

Jesse picked up on the first ring.

U P P E R  E A S T  S I D E – N Y C

She threw herself on her giant canopy bed, weeping onto her silk pillowcase. She looked out at the Manhattan skyline, tears seeping out the corners of her eyes.

This was't the life she wanted. How could he ask her to do this? His own flesh and blood?

"You have to," he said, storming into the room behind her. "Everything I do for you, everything I give you, and you're going to fucking refuse me? I don't think so, you ungrateful brat."

It was true; she had everything–the upscale apartment, the designer clothes and purses, the chauffeured limousine.

She had nothing.

Nothing that really mattered. It was all vanity, nothing of substance. Music was the only thing that brought her joy, and even that was taken from her when her father felt the whim.

"I won't do it, Dad. I can't," she murmured.

He nodded resolutely. "Fine. Then you know the consequence." He snatched her phone off the charger, stepping into the hallway and flipping a breaker. The lights in her room went dark, and he stared at her, waiting for her pleadings.

She refused.

"Go ahead and starve. I'm leaving for the job and sending Martin home. Don't even try to make him feel sorry for you."

She just laid there, her damp eyes sweeping the skyline of the city she used to love so much.

Slamming the door and locking it from the outside, she heard his heavy footsteps retreating down the hallway.

He was gone.

She let the tears fall faster, curling into a ball under the blanket her mother had quilted for her.

She could not live like this much longer.

Something had to give.

○ ○ ○

The room was pitch black when she woke next. She heard scuffling and muttering outside her door. Is he back already? she thought, but before she could get up, the door crashed in and shadows danced as something was held tightly over her nose.

Her consciousness slid away from her and she sank into a midnight abyss.