The tension in the café was suffocating. Victor Holloway stood his ground, his smirk unwavering, while his thugs loomed behind him like shadows. Jillian, Chloe, and Clara could feel the stares of the few remaining customers, most of whom had gone silent, sensing trouble.
Jillian took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. "I'm not going anywhere with you, Victor." Her voice was steady, but inside, her heart pounded.
Victor chuckled, a slow, mocking sound. "That's unfortunate. Because I wasn't asking."
Before Jillian could react, one of Victor's men grabbed her wrist, yanking her up from her seat. Chloe gasped, jumping to her feet, while Clara instinctively grabbed Jillian's other arm, trying to pull her back.
"Let her go!" Clara shouted, her voice shaking with fear and fury.
The café erupted into chaos. Chairs scraped against the floor as Jillian struggled, trying to break free. Chloe, not thinking twice, threw her drink straight into the thug's face. He cursed loudly, letting go of Jillian just long enough for her to stumble back.
Victor's smirk vanished. His eyes darkened as he watched Jillian and her friends resist. "You're making this harder than it needs to be."
At that moment, the café owner, an older man named Mr. Bennett, stepped forward, holding a shotgun. "That's enough," he said, his voice firm. "Get out of my café before I call the police."
Victor's thugs tensed, exchanging uncertain glances. Even they weren't bold enough to take on an armed man in public.
Victor exhaled sharply, then smiled again—but this time, it was pure menace. "This isn't over, Jillian. Enjoy your little victory while you can."
With that, he motioned for his men to leave. The thugs backed away, one of them still wiping Chloe's drink from his face, and followed Victor out the door.
The second they were gone, Jillian collapsed back into her chair, her hands trembling. Clara and Chloe sat down beside her, both wide-eyed and shaken.
"What the hell just happened?" Chloe whispered.
Jillian exhaled slowly. "Victor just declared war."
Later that night, Jillian sat on her bed, still shaken from the café incident. The weight of Victor Holloway's threat lingered in her mind. He wasn't just trying to scare her—he was planning something.
Her phone buzzed. A new message.
Unknown Number: "You got lucky today. Next time, no one will be there to save you."
Jillian's breath hitched. Her hands trembled as she gripped the phone tighter. The words were simple, but the message was clear—Victor wasn't done.
She quickly typed back: "Who is this?"
No response.
Jillian's eyes darted around the dimly lit room. She felt exposed, watched. She quickly checked the window, making sure it was locked. Her heart pounded. Was Victor outside? Was he watching her right now?
She considered calling Clara or Chloe, but what would she say? That she was scared? That she didn't know what to do?
A knock at the door made her jolt.
"Jillian?" Her grandmother's voice came from the hallway.
Jillian swallowed hard, trying to steady her voice. "Yes?"
"Are you alright? You've been quiet since you got home."
Jillian hesitated. She wanted to tell her—to tell someone—but she knew her grandmother would worry, maybe even send her away to protect her.
"I'm fine, Grandma," she finally answered. "Just tired."
A pause. Then, "Alright. Get some rest."
Jillian waited until she heard her grandmother's footsteps retreat down the hall before looking at her phone again.
No new messages.
But the damage was done. Victor had made it clear—this wasn't over.
Jillian knew she couldn't fight Victor Holloway alone. He had power, connections, and no limits to what he would do. If she wanted to survive this, she needed someone who hated Victor just as much as she did.
There was only one group that fit that description—the Ash Ravens.
The gang had once been just as powerful as Victor's crew, but years ago, a brutal betrayal had torn them apart. Victor had set them up, leading to their downfall, and now they operated in the shadows, scattered but still dangerous.
Jillian had heard whispers about them before—about their leader, Dante Cruz, a man who once ruled the streets but had lost everything because of Victor. If anyone would be willing to help her, it was him.
With Chloe and Clara worried but reluctantly supportive, Jillian set out to find the Ash Ravens. She followed old rumors, visited abandoned warehouses, and asked the right (or wrong) people the right questions. It wasn't easy, and more than once, she felt eyes watching her, unseen figures tracking her movements.
Then, one night, a hooded figure grabbed her wrist and pulled her into a dark alley.
She barely had time to react before a voice whispered, "You've been looking for us. That's dangerous."
Jillian turned, heart pounding. The man was tall, muscular, with piercing dark eyes that seemed to analyze her every move.
"I need your help," Jillian said, forcing herself to stand tall.
Dante smirked, but there was no humor in his eyes. "You think I help just anyone?"
"I know you hate Victor Holloway. I want to bring him down. And I think you do too."
The smirk faded. Dante studied her, measuring her words, weighing the risk.
Then, after a long pause, he nodded. "Alright, princess. Let's talk."
Jillian followed Dante deeper into the alley, her heart pounding in her chest. The air smelled of damp brick and cigarette smoke. A few figures lingered in the shadows, watching her every move, their eyes sharp and unreadable.
Dante stopped near a rusted metal door. With a nod, he signaled for her to speak.
"I need your help," Jillian began, keeping her voice firm. "Victor Holloway is after me."
Dante chuckled, shaking his head. "That's a dangerous man to piss off. What did you do?"
"I beat him."
Dante raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Beat him how?"
"I exposed one of his people. Got her expelled. Now he wants revenge."**
Dante leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "And you think running to me is the solution?"
Jillian met his gaze. "I know you hate him. I know he set you up, took everything from you. I want to stop him before he does the same to me."
For a moment, Dante was silent. The air between them felt thick with unspoken history.
Then, finally, he exhaled. "What exactly are you asking for?"
Jillian's grip tightened into fists. "I want information. I want to know his weaknesses, his next moves. I need something to fight back."
Dante tilted his head. "And what do I get in return?"
Jillian hesitated. She had nothing to offer. No money. No influence. Just determination.
Dante smirked at her silence. "Tell you what. I'll give you something small to start with—call it a favor. If you prove you can handle it, maybe we'll talk about more."
"What kind of favor?"
Dante stepped closer, his voice low and dangerous. "Victor has a shipment coming in. I want to know what's inside and who it's for."
Jillian swallowed hard. This was bigger than she expected. If she got caught…
But she had no choice.