One week ago

  Lucas sat at Zee’s bar. It was mid-afternoon, and the place was officially closed, but the bartender lingered around, quietly polishing glasses and ready to fix drinks for Zee or any Black Lotus members who wandered through.

  But Lucas wasn’t there to drink. He was waiting.

  The heavy doors swung open, letting in a brief slice of daylight before closing with a solid thud. Zee wandered in, flanked by his closest men who dispersed into the booths—some closest to the exits, others near the windows. Each moved with practiced ease, a blend of relaxed confidence and subtle vigilance. Lucas knew the drill because he'd once been one of them. When Vince was alive, it had been his job to stay alert, to anticipate threats, to handle trouble before it touched Vince. Follow orders. Get paid. Simple.

  But Vince was dead now.

  Zee slid onto the stool next to Lucas, and the bartender automatically placed Zee’s usual drink in front of him—a traditional porcelain flask filled with chilled rice wine, accompanied by a small matching cup. Lucas didn't know exactly what the drink was, but it looked fancy. Zee poured himself a small cup, took a sip, and then turned his attention to Lucas.

  “I need you to take on some of Vince’s old work,” Zee said, cutting straight to the point.

  Lucas’s head shot up. “What?”

  “The Karaoke bar, the goods we deal in there, some of the business partners.”

  Lucas shifted uncomfortably. “Can’t you just bring in someone from somewhere else? I don’t do that stuff.”

  Zee shrugged casually. “It’s not worth the trouble. The guys there trust you. The partners know you.”

  “But I never did any of that shit before. It was all Vince.”

  Zee sipped his rice wine calmly, eyes cool. “Everyone has to grow up sometime, Lucas.”

  Lucas grasped for an excuse, his mind racing. “I also need to check out that lead you mentioned last time—the one about Serena.”

  Zee clicked his tongue, raising his cup pointedly toward Lucas. “You’re right about that though. Finish that first. Speaking of which, I’m sending one of my guys with you to help. And one of Uncle Tommy’s guys. They’ll be useful when you get back too. Help you with all this…shit.” Zee smirked faintly as Lucas’s expression fell further.

  Lucas sighed heavily, recognizing the trap he had just walked into, and the dismissal. The conversation was clearly over.

  Zee gave Lucas a firm clap on the shoulder, signaling the end of their discussion. “You did good with Vince’s funeral by the way. He would have been proud. You’ll do well with this too.”

  Lucas stood reluctantly. “Understood.”

  “Good.” Zee waved one of the men waiting in the booths over, and Lucas took the cue to leave.

  A few days later, Lucas was already in Chicago.

  He stepped out of the airport terminal, squinting against the glare of the midday sun. His gaze scanned the pickup area for the familiar sight of the Black Lotus standard vehicle—a dark gray 2018 Toyota Camry. The Camry was unremarkable enough to blend seamlessly with the countless other mid-sized sedans crowding the streets of Chicago. It was reliable, discreetly tinted for privacy, and had ample trunk space for anything they'd need—bags, weapons, whatever. Plus, it was easy to ditch if things got messy.

  Lucas spotted the car idling by the curb, exactly as expected. He barely had time to approach before the passenger-side door flew open, and a man, close to Lucas’s age, sprang out energetically, his voice loud and overly cheerful for Lucas’s liking.

  “Hey, boss! No bags? Light traveler—I like that!”

  “Don’t call me that,” Lucas muttered, clearly irritated.

  “Okie dokie.” Ryan grinned, completely unfazed by Lucas’s sour mood, and opened the back seat door with an exaggerated flourish.

  “I can handle car doors myself,” Lucas snapped.

  Ryan remained perky, flashing another grin. “A man of action! I like that too.”

  Lucas studied him for a second, suppressing a groan. He’d received the run down of who these two men were before he left. Ryan Lau was twenty-two, lean and wiry, quick on his feet with the kind of build that could slip through a crowd unnoticed —if he didn’t dress the way he did. He was always dressed flashy —designer hoodie, strategically ripped jeans, expensive sneakers, and a stupid amount of rings on his fingers. A thin silver chain hung around his neck, a remnant of his days spent pickpocketing. Ryan moved fast, talked faster, and didn't know when to shut up. He was one of Zee’s up-and-comers, though not much experienced beyond small-time retail —just drugs and weapons, but he was good with numbers and people, supposedly.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  Lucas suppressed a groan as he sank into the seat, slamming the door shut. This was going to be a long few days.

  His gaze shifted toward the driver, locking briefly with the quiet eyes watching him through the rearview mirror. Wesley Ng, also in his early twenties, sat silently, hands resting firmly on the steering wheel, solid and calm. Wes was one of Uncle Tommy’s new guys—a former teen boxing prodigy turned Black Lotus muscle. He was stocky, broad-shouldered, and looked like someone who rarely lost a fight. He dressed purely for practicality: plain fitted T-shirts, dark jeans, scuffed combat boots, with his hair buzzed short and no accessories in sight. He didn't speak, just nodded once in quiet acknowledgment through the mirror. Lucas instantly liked him.

  Ryan dashed back to the front seat dramatically, slamming the door shut and clapping Wes on the shoulder with exaggerated familiarity. “Let’s go, big guy.”

  Wes’s voice was quiet, edged with a deadly calm. “Don’t touch me.”

  Ryan jerked his hand back sharply, laughing nervously. “Touchy-touchy…ironically.”

  As the car pulled away from the airport, Ryan was already deep into some exaggerated story about the faint “scar” on his cheek. Lucas wasn’t paying attention; he doubted Wes was either. Thankfully, Ryan seemed perfectly content with the sound of his own voice—at least someone was.

  Lucas shifted restlessly in the back seat. He hated sitting in the back. That had always been Vince’s spot. Lucas belonged either at the wheel or riding shotgun, alert and scanning for danger.

  The only other time he’d sat back here was when he first joined Black Lotus—back when he didn’t even know how to drive.

  As the car moved steadily forward, Lucas’s thoughts wandered to those days—when Vince was still alive, and life was uncomplicated.

  7 Years ago:

  The car rolled to a stop outside the library, the tires crunching softly against the pavement as Vince shifted into park. The street was too quiet, too clean, the kind of place where the biggest problem anyone had was a misplaced library book or a bike left unlocked.

  Lucas hated places like this.

  It wasn’t just that they felt different—it was that they felt wrong.

  The buildings were too well-maintained, the sidewalks too even, the lawns too green. No broken glass on the streets, no peeling paint on the doors, no busted-out streetlights humming above cracked pavement.

  Places like this weren’t made for people like him.

  And that was fine.

  He had never wanted to be one of them anyway.

  “Won’t take long,” Vince muttered, stretching his arm over the steering wheel. His other hand was already pulling out a cigarette, rolling it between his fingers like he had all the time in the world. “Dropping her off, then we head to Orchid.”

  Lucas nodded once, gaze drifting toward the library.

  He didn’t mind waiting. This was a better seat than most. In the back of Vince’s car, under his wing, he had a place now. That was more than he could say about anywhere else.

  Serena stepped out of the car, her jeans fitted snuggly around her impossibly long legs and the fabric of her red top catching the late afternoon sun. Her long dark hair tumbled over her bare shoulders as she leaned down to press a quick kiss to Vince’s cheek, her fingers brushing against his jaw in an easy, familiar way.

  “Don’t be late,” she murmured, her voice teasing but firm. “I’ll hear about it.”

  Vince smirked. “Yeah, yeah.”

  She grinned and shut the door behind her, turning toward the entrance.

  Lucas wasn’t paying attention to any of it.

  His eyes had already caught on something else.

  Or rather—someone.

  She was standing just outside the library doors, waiting.

  A young girl waved the moment she saw Serena, her face brightening instantly, her smile so natural, so easy that it almost caught him off guard.

  Something inside Lucas stilled.

  She was around his age —no more than fourteen at most, and that alone should have made her feel familiar. But she wasn’t.

  Not in the way Serena was. Not in the way Vince and the others were.

  She wasn’t like anyone he knew.

  She was wearing a sleeveless top, the sunlight catching against her skin. Her skirt swayed just above her knees as she shifted her weight slightly, bare legs too smooth, too untouched, too clean. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, strands slipping free to frame her face.

  Her big brown eyes were what stood out the most—wide, bright, unguarded in a way that made his chest feel tight for reasons he didn’t understand.

  She looked soft.

  Too soft.

  Not just her features, not just the way she smiled so effortlessly at Serena, but in the way she existed.

  The way she belonged in places like this.

  The way she had probably never had to fight for anything in her life.

  The kind of girl who read books in the summer. The kind who probably had parents who made sure she had everything she needed, who probably sat around a dinner table every night with plates that were always full. The kind who didn’t have to stab another kid just to prove she was worth keeping around.

  She was nothing like him.

  And yet, for some reason, he couldn’t look away.

  Lucas didn’t realize he was staring until Vince exhaled a slow drag of smoke and glanced at him.

  “That’s her,” he said, voice easy, unreadable.

  Lucas forced himself to lean back against the seat, expression neutral, posture relaxed, pushing away whatever had just shifted inside him. He’d heard the name in passing a few times.

  “Vivian?”

  Vince nodded, tapping ash from the end of his cigarette. “Yeah. Serena’s cousin.” Vince’s eyes softened slightly as he watched the two girls chat cheerfully. “Smart girl, she’s going to be better than all of us one day.”

  When he glanced back at Lucas, he smirked slightly, but his tone was serious. “Off-limits.”

  Lucas didn’t react. He hadn’t needed to be told. It was obvious.

  She wasn’t for them.

  She was never going to be one of them.

  And Lucas had no reason to care.

  So he looked away and he told himself that was the end of it.