Maya

I pressed my hand to my mouth, the acrid scent of smoke clawing at my throat as I stumbled toward the middle of the chaos. Armando and the others stood near a building that was engulfed in flames, its structure nearly collapsed under the onslaught of fire. My gaze zeroed in on a man leaning against a post, which had been reduced to a charred stump, his body barely clinging to life.Panic surged through me as my heart raced and my hands trembled. I sprinted over, adrenaline coursing through my veins, the heat of the flames licking at my skin. I dropped to my knees beside him, the ground hot beneath me. I pushed aside the smoldering remnants of his jacket, revealing a deep, jagged wound near his abdomen—the same cruel mark that marred Armando’s side. Blood oozed from the man's mouth, pooling in the dust around him, and I knew he was hurt far worse than I dared imagine.

My fingers fumbled as I untangled the fabric of his shirt, revealing more bullet wounds that punctured his back, the grim evidence of a brutal ambush. His eyes fluttered, rolling back into his head, and suddenly, his weight shifted, his head flopping onto my lap—a lifeless weight that set my heart racing in panic.

“No, stay with me!” I shouted, desperation spilling from my lips. I frantically felt for a pulse but found nothing. My breath quickened as I initiated CPR, my palms pressing hard against his chest, counting out loud, urging him to fight, to survive. I breathed into him, my heart sinking deeper each time my lungs filled with air and his body remained unresponsive.

I dragged him away from the inferno, the heat intensifying, clouds of smoke swirling around us. He was heavy, lifeless, and I struggled to position him on the ground, my own breath coming in ragged gasps. Again and again, I tried—my tears mingling with the blood soaking into the earth beneath us. Each time I leaned down to breathe life into him, all I could feel was the cold reality of death creeping closer.

“Come on,,” I sobbed, my voice breaking as I fought against the tide of despair, the flames roaring behind me like a monster awakened. But all that poured from him was blood—hot and thick—each failed attempt carving deeper into my soul until the world around us faded, and all I could see was the darkness threatening to consume him.

“Come on! Wake up, wake the fuck up!” I screamed, my voice cracking as desperation clawed at my throat. I pressed down harder, my fingers digging into his chest, my tears mingling with the blood that soaked my hands. The weight of realization crashed over me like a tidal wave—I had lost him. My first death, as they called it, and the deadness inside me felt insurmountable. Long after I’d declared him gone, I kept my hands there, longing for a sign, anything that could pull him back from the abyss.As his body grew cold beneath my touch and the acrid smoke swirled around us, I finally looked up, heart pounding, searching for any glimmer of hope amidst the chaos. More men were emerging from the shadows, remnants of a battle that had spiraled out of control, hunting The Death Dealers who had wreaked havoc on our lives.

Suddenly, a shout cut through the haze. “Found a live one!” My head whipped around, dread coiling in my gut as I saw Jake dragging a man behind him, fingers wrapped tightly around the collar of a leather jacket. My breath hitched as he was thrown down, landing hard on the ground beside Armando who was standing near.

I pushed myself up on shaky knees, fighting against the nausea as I rushed to another man who was crumpled nearby, clutching his leg, blood seeping through his fingers. I cursed under my breath—I didn’t have my bag, no supplies to help. But instinct kicked in. I tore off the sleeves of my shirt, the fabric rough against my skin, and wrapped them around his thigh, tightening them as he screamed in agony. The sound pierced me deeper than the pain of my own loss, echoing the horror of this night—a night that would forever haunt me.

I turned my head to face Armando, who loomed over the man now kneeling before him. My heart raced as I kept my gaze fixed on the wounded figure below me, but the tension between Jake and Armando crackled in the air like a live wire, each word they exchanged deepening the pit of dread in my stomach. “I have an idea,” Jake sneered, his voice dripping with sadistic glee. “Let’s burn him alive until he coughs up where Reaper and The Death Dealers have gone.” He let out a chilling fit of laughter that echoed in the darkened alley, sending shivers down my spine.

Every instinct screamed at me to leap to my feet, to rush toward Armando and plead with him to end this madness before it spiraled beyond saving. But as I watched him, the cold, calculating leader he was, I knew my plea would fall on deaf ears. The primal fear coursing through me reminded me that Armando’s word was law—his decisions carved in stone, irreversible.

He leaned in closer to the man, his expression shifting as he brushed a hand softly across the injured man's cheek, a flicker of mock kindness amidst the brutality. “Tell us what we want to know,” Armando murmured, his voice smooth and deceptive. “And maybe I’ll let you go. What do you say?”

The silence that followed felt suffocating, laden with the weight of unspoken terror. Every breath hung heavy with the knowledge that one word from this man could mean salvation or doom, not only for him but for all of us caught in the web of Armando's merciless game.

The man below me was dragged toward a nearby cabin—thankfully, still standing, though the danger of the flames loomed closer. I fixated on Armando, his hand hovering ominously at his side as he loomed over the helpless figure. My insides twisted with nausea as I watched him and Jake seize the man, their grip tightening like iron shackles as they pulled him toward a burn pile, the flames flickering hungrily at his feet, inches away from engulfing him.With a primal roar, Armando swung his fist back and unleashed a torrential storm of blows upon the man, each punch echoing in the stillness of the night. Blood sprayed like dark paint across Armando's knuckles, splattering onto the ground, each hit a testament to his rage. I could feel my heart racing, pounding against my ribcage as the horror unfolded before me.

Unable to contain myself, I sprinted towards him, my voice breaking through the chaos. “Armando, don’t do this!” I screamed, desperation lacing my words. But it was too late; my pleas fell on deaf ears as he continued to rain down blows, the man’s face becoming a grotesque mask of bruises and blood, barely recognizable.

“Get out of here, Maya! This doesn’t concern you,” Armando barked, his gaze fixed forward, locking onto his target with merciless intensity. His voice dripped with darkness, a chilling contrast to the boy I once knew.

“I’m here because of you, Armando, so it does concern me!” I yelled back, my own anger rising, mixing with the fear that wrapped around my heart like a vice. The flames crackled ominously behind us, mirroring the turmoil within, and in that moment, I realized I had to confront not just Armando but the monster he was becoming.

My voice came out as little more than a whisper when Armando turned to me, his eyes void of warmth, consumed by darkness. He stepped towards me, each stride heavy with anger that resonated through the air like a distant storm. My breath hitched as he seized my shirt collar, his fist tangling cruelly in the fabric, pulling me closer. My heart pounded wildly in my chest; I had never seen this side of Armando before. Who was this man that I thought I knew? Was this truly the real Armando?

The weight of his gaze bore down on me, his eyes dark like the depths of night, and my chest tightened in fear and confusion as he yanked me closer. His breath was steady and controlled, a stark contrast to the chaos around us—he was a leader now, fierce and commanding. “I’m the boss here, Maya,” he growled, the words slicing through the tension-filled air. “If you want to stay and help my men, you do what I say. Otherwise, you can get the hell out of my compound.”

He held me in place, our eyes locked in a battle of wills, and I felt as if I were looking at a stranger, someone entirely unrecognizable. I swallowed hard, fear coiling in my gut, but I managed to nod, albeit weakly. In an instant, he jerked me away, tossing me back to the ground like a discarded toy. The impact knocked the wind out of me, and tears prickled at the corners of my eyes as despair washed over me.

As I lay there, stunned, I watched Armando march back toward the man and Jake, whose presence loomed over me like an ominous shadow. Jake’s expression flickered with a pang of guilt, his eyes briefly flashing with curiosity as he glanced at Armando. But his sympathy did little to ease the ache in my heart, which was still reeling from the violent shift in Armando's demeanor. I felt utterly alone, lost in this chaos, trapped between the man I thought I knew and the monster he was becoming.

I knew Jake couldn’t interfere with Armando and my relationship; he was locked in, just like I was. We were both prisoners of this twisted alliance, and he understood better than anyone the stakes. If he stepped in to help me, he’d be risking banishment or death at Armando’s hands—something neither of us could afford. My heart ached as I slowly rose to my feet, tears streaming down my cheeks, blurring my vision as I strained to hear Armando and Jake question the man one last time about Reaper’s whereabouts.“Tell us where he is!” Armando’s voice was low but laced with a fury that had become all too familiar. The man hesitated, glancing nervously between them. As he leaned in closer, his words barely a whisper, the roar of motorcycles thundered in from the distance, drowning out whatever secrets he spilled.

I felt an unsettling curiosity churn inside me. What could be so important that it warranted such desperation? My mind raced as I imagined the implications of that knowledge, but before I could form a coherent thought, the man’s fate was sealed. With a flick of Armando’s wrist, the man was seized and tossed into the fire pit, flames licking hungrily at him. The sound of his screams pierced the night, a chilling symphony that echoed throughout the camp and sent shivers racing up my spine. I barely managed to suppress a gasp, my heart galloping within me as I watched from the shadows of the tree line.

The ferocity of the flames illuminated Armando’s face, casting stark shadows that accentuated the coldness in his eyes. This was a side of him I had never wanted to see—a ruthless enforcer, devoid of mercy. Jake stood stoically beside him, his expression unreadable, as if he had become accustomed to this brutal reality. They turned abruptly, their focus shifting towards the approaching motorcycles, the growl of engines vibrating through the ground.

My breath caught in my throat as I peered through the darkness of the flames and burnt charred recognizing the men who rode towards us. The leather jackets, the snarling logos emblazoned across their vests—they did not belong to the Demented Devils. They represented a rival gang, one that reeked of danger and chaos. An ominous sense of foreboding settled over me; the air crackled with tension.

Their logo featured hornets intertwined with flames—the emblem of the Chaos Hornets.