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The last time she’d seen Rocco Cerritos was three weeks
later. It was one of her first shifts back on the floor – concealer only hid so
much, after all – and she was feeling rusty and off her game. When Rocco and
King had walked in together, she’d felt her world begin to crumble. She’d taken
it once, but no one would do that to her again.

She’d die first.

Indigo had walked into the back room, signed off her
shift without permission – grounds for immediate dismissal – and had gone back
to the apartment she now shared with Shireese. An hour later, Luca had called.

“I’ve got a couple guys coming over tonight, baby. Think
you could stop by and visit?”

Inidigo’d had a moment’s hesitation, but she’d pushed it
aside. If she lost her job, one more night’s pay would make a difference.

“For you, Luca?” she’d purred. “Anything.”

“Great! I’ll be waiting.” In the background, she could
hear another man laughing.

She’d headed over to Luca’s apartment in a cab. She
remembered now how the doorman hadn’t been on that night, and it’d struck her
as strange. She’d buzzed, and Luca’d answered, letting her in. Again, she
hadn’t thought it odd until afterward.

She’d knocked twice on the door. She could hear music
inside, but no voices, and that’d seemed strange too. Luca had opened the door,
ushering her in.

Two things had struck her at once: first, that the room
smelled awful – sweat and blood and human feces – and that Rocco Cerritos was
tied to a chair in the centre of the room, his face a bloody pulp.

“Oh Jesus!” Indigo’d yelped, stumbling backward in her
haste.

Luca’d already closed and locked the door. He’d turned to
her, smiling. The sight of that amidst the horror had shocked her into silence.

“Oh no, baby,” Luca’d whispered. “This one is for you.”

He’d taken Indigo by the wrist, dragging her forward
until she’d stood before Rocco. He’d been tied to a wooden chair and he’d
stared at her with the inhuman rage of a trapped animal. His chest had been cut
to ribbons, the floor under him protected by a tarp. She’d turned away from the
sight, stomach roiling, but Luca had forced her to look. He’d held a blade in
his free hand and he wiped it on the side of his pantleg. He’d had his ‘game
face’ on; the one he used when King sent him to check up on people.

That night, he, more than Rocco, terrified her.

“I want you to remember this, baby,” Luca’d growled. “I take
care of what’s mine.” He’d put the blade along the edge of Rocco’s cheek and
Rocco’d begun to thrash, a trail of blood like the line of a marker appearing
underneath.

“No, don’t!” Indigo’d gasped. “Please, Luca! You can’t!”

“Yes,” he’d barked, “I can and I will! First, you’re
gonna watch, and then you’re gonna help me clean it up.”

Shaking, Indigo stumbled into the darkened alcove of a
doorway, her mind awash with crimson. That night had marked the end of one part
of her life; breaking it into before and after. Changing her forever. She’d
returned to The Vault, but she’d started saving her money, her mind on the
future. No more parties and drugs. No more efforts to forget.
She had a
goal!
A random meeting with Cal Woodrow, months later, had given her the idea
of attending the City University of New York, and her life had changed again. With
her acceptance letter in hand, she’d made the final break with the club,
starting over.

Until tonight.

Hand against the rough brick, Indigo took slow breaths,
single moments flickering like damaged film.
The bloodied body, limp and
heavy… the coppery tang of blood… the two suitcases Luca had brought into the
room… Indigo vomiting over and over again, Luca’s hand gentle on her back,
Indigo’s skin crawling with the memory of what he’d done…
She forced
herself to breathe, chest heaving. She blinked until her eyes refocused, the
past back where it belonged.

Indigo wiped her face and cleared her throat, cautiously
looking up and down the street before stepping out of the doorway. She trudged
through the snow on weak legs, her eyes on the sidewalk ahead. More snow was
falling, haloes of it around the streetlamps. Her phone buzzed as a text
appeared.

I went to the subway station, but must have missed you.
Where are you? We need to talk. PLEASE!

She dropped the phone in her pocket, and started running.
Around her, the flakes came down faster and faster. The cold settled into her
chest, the sensation spreading until her whole body was numb. Her phone rang, a
call this time, not a text. She turned it off.

It didn’t matter what she felt for Jude Alden. Sometimes you
just had to be smart, and cut your losses.

: : :
: : : : : : :

Unable to get hold of Indigo, Jude had spent the night
hacking, finally breaking through the barriers just before dawn when someone in
Fran’s house – one of her teenage sons, most likely – had gone onto an
unsecured gaming site. Jude piggy-backed his way into the computer, downloading
everything he could find. He worked frantically, the concern over what he was
doing masked by dread.

Time was running out!

When Luca showed up the next day, Jude gave him a mish-mash
of random items: bank statements, family photos, and personal information. For
the first time, the report he’d submitted was a mess, but he didn’t care. This
was going to be the last time he’d work for King.

“I knew you could do it,” Luca said cheerfully. “Mr. Fischer
will be happy to see this, but I’m sure he’ll let you know that himself.”

Jude felt his stomach drop, his exit plan slipping out of
sight.

He needed to talk to Indigo, but she wouldn’t take his
calls. On Monday, he came by her film class. “Fuck YOU!” she screamed. “We are
DONE!” And slammed the classroom door in his face. Tuesday he did the same
thing, carrying two coffees, but she stormed away on him instead. Wednesday,
one of the doughy campus security guards was waiting outside the computer lab
door. Jude recognized him on sight.

“Hey Allen, what’s up?”

“Um, sorry, man, but one of the students said you were
harassing her.” Allen said nervously. “Professor Yamamoto told me to ask you to
leave if you showed up again.”

Jude went to the apartment that evening, but Shireese was
waiting. Her threat was the
real
police, and that’s when Jude decided
he’d give Indigo a few days to cool down.

Saturday, he’d try again.

: : :
: : : : : : :

Early Saturday morning, Indigo came out of the apartment,
taking her first steps into the bitter chill. The winter weather had been a
perfect match for her emotions lately: the terror of Luca’s return freezing her
heart until she was numb through. The temperature had dropped overnight, and a
heavy layer of hoar frost covered each branch on the trees. Indigo pulled out
the video camera and tripod from her backpack, taking a long shot of the scene.
She crossed the road, setting up across from the apartment so she could take a
slow pan from one end of the street where a line of busses sat lined up, all
the way to the coffeehouse where the first customers were getting their morning
jolt.

A single figure was standing outside the café, two coffees
in hand.

She jerked her head up away from the viewfinder, scrambling
to unhook the foot from the base of the tripod. Jude walked up the street,
watching as she struggled to disassemble the camera.

“Hey, Indigo.”

She didn’t answer, just threw the items into her backpack,
and started walking toward the subway station.

“Look, I um, I was wondering if we could talk,” he said,
pacing her as she strode away.

“I’ve got
nothing
to say to you!” she hissed.

“I get that,” Jude said, following. “But I’ve got things I
need to say to you. Could you just slow down a sec?”

She spun on her heel, and the coffee sloshed over the spouts
of the paper cups, splattering his jacket and the ground.

“There is
nothing
you could say that would change
anything that happened!” she roared. Her face was blotchy with the cold, bright
patches of pink on her cheeks and nose. “I finally got my life together, and I
am
not
fucking it up again!”

She stormed away.

“Wait!” Jude shouted, running after her. “Indigo, just WAIT!
I’m sorry!”

Halfway to the subway station she turned back. She was
crying.

“I don’t
care
!” she screamed. “It’s too fucking late
now!”

Jude tossed the coffee to the gutter, staining the snow brown,
and chased after her. Indigo was at the subway, sliding her card across the
turnstile when he reached her side.

“Just wait,” he pleaded, putting a hand on her arm, “I can
explain. I really can!”

She shrugged his fingers away, stomping toward the platform
as Jude scrambled to find change for a ticket. The train had arrived by the
time he made it to the platform. His eyes skipped from dark-haired woman to
dark-haired woman in desperation, finally catching sight of her near the end of
the train. He sprinted, making it through the door just as it began to close.

Indigo sat against the window, earbuds in ears. The only
other people in the car were an old lady in a parka and a couple of teenage
girls, giggling over a magazine.

“Hey,” Jude panted, sitting down on the seat next to Indigo.

She glared but didn’t answer.

“I… I know I was wrong. And I’m sorry, but if you’ll just
listen, I can explain.”

Indigo lifted her mp3 player, turning up the volume until
Jude could hear it himself. The heavy beat of Slayer began to rise in a tinny
cacophony.

“So we’re not talking,” Jude said quietly. “Alright then.”

On the seat across from them, the elderly woman chuckled.
With a heavy sigh, Jude slumped lower in the seat, the train speeding into the
darkness.

: : :
: : : : : :

Gina Cerritos stood before the desk, paper in hand, squinting
at the silhouette of King across from her. The early morning light from the
windows in front of her was less kind to the circles under her eyes than she
would have wished, but he’d chided her for dallying last time. Today King would
have no such complaint.

“Officer Brodie got another call this morning,” she said,
laying the paper on the desk. “Another tip about your wayward programmer, Jude
Alden.”

The black shadow moved, reaching out and fingering the
paper.

“Saying what exactly?”

“Nothing in particular,” she answered, folding her arms over
her chest, “other than the caller was certain Jude was up to something. That
was it.”

King swore, and Gina fought down the urge to smirk. King was
quick to take offense, and she had no intention of putting herself on his
radar. Things were still tenuous between them.

“Who called it in?” King growled.

Gina’s mouth twitched. It was wrong to feel good about this,
but she couldn’t help it.

“Brodie couldn’t trace it,” she said lightly.

“What?!?” The single word dripped acid.

“The call was too short,” Gina explained, dropping her hands
to her side. “Whoever called in was smart. He
knew
what he was doing.”
She paused. “When I heard that,” she said smugly. “It made me wonder...”

“Wonder
what
?”

Gina stepped forward, the first hint of a smile ghosting
over her lips. This close she could see King’s face; his nose was flared, dark
eyes flinty.

“Seems like it might’ve been someone from the
inside.
”

King’s chin jerked up, as if on a string. He turned to the
side, putting himself in profile, features chiselled by light.

“Patel!” he barked.

Patel moved closer, and Gina’s eyes narrowed. She hated
Patel more than she hated the others. He wasn’t
just
a thug, he was
smart. The man unnerved her, the way he watched and followed.

“What’s the word?” King asked.

“The word, sir?”

“On the street,” he sneered. “You always hear it first.
What’re people saying out there?”

Patel looked directly at Gina before leaning into King. She
held her breath, desperate to hear. “There’s a power struggle,” Patel
whispered. “Someone’s getting ready to move on you.”

Gina released her breath, heart pounding. So the rumor
was
true!

“Who?!” King snapped, and Gina cringed.

Patel leaned closer, his hand cupping his mouth, words
fading in and out. “…just talking… different families… an old grudge… waiting
for you to react.” King’s gaze swung back up, his attention on Gina, and she
took another step backward. Like this, his face was in shadow again, but she
knew what she’d see if she could: hatred and distrust.

“Stop!” King growled. “I’ve heard enough!”

Patel nodded, leaving King’s side. For a long moment, no one
in the room spoke. Gina wished she’d waited longer before calling this meeting,
but it was too late for regrets now. She lifted her chin. A Cerritos didn’t
cower. Rocco never had, and neither would she.

“This discussion is over,” King announced. “Gina. You find
out
who
sent that message, or I’ll hold you personally responsible.”

“But I—”

“
Personally
responsible!” he bellowed.

 “Yes, sir.”

She turned, walking out of the room on stiff legs. King
waited for the door to close behind her before he spoke again.

“Jude Alden is starting to cause me more trouble than he’s
worth,” King muttered. He glanced over at Luca. “We’ve got someone watching
him?”

Luca smiled.

“Marq Lopez is your eyes.”

King nodded.

“Well, tell him to do a better job. I can’t risk any loose
ends where Alden’s concerned.”