Chapter 10: it Ends Like This
Aria couldn't feel his fingers.
That's the first thing he noticed.
His chest felt like it had caved in, and there was a wet, sucking sound every time he tried to breathe. Blood filled his mouth. His cheek was pressed into the concrete, sticky from someone else's shoeprint.
His vision blinked in and out.
Then came the voice.
"I should kill you right here."
Not loud.
Just matter-of-fact.
Boots stepped closer. Slow. Heavy.
Ace.
Aria couldn't turn his head, but he knew that voice now. It didn't sound like it did in the shop. Not calm. Not smooth.
This voice was all broken glass and venom.
"You know what the worst part is?" Ace said. "It ain't the hits you threw. It's the ones you didn't."
He crouched beside Aria, put a hand on his back like he was comforting him.
"You held back. You kept just enough fight in you to stay alive. Like maybe, maybe, you thought I'd see something in you."
Ace leaned closer.
"I don't."
---
Aria coughed. Tried to speak. Failed.
Ace didn't care.
He stood up again, walked a slow circle around him, dragging the crowbar along the ground. Sparks jumped every few steps.
"I've had crews betray me. I've had rats talk to cops, I've had my own blood skim off the top, and none of them made me feel like this."
He pointed down at Aria.
"You? You did this without firing a gun. You didn't take a single dollar. And somehow, you made the whole fuckin' city talk."
He stopped walking.
"You made me a joke."
---
He took a long breath.
"You know how hard it is to make a name in this city?" he said, voice rising. "You know how many nights I slept in alleys with a knife in my pocket because I didn't know who was coming for me?"
He walked again. Pace faster.
"I bled for this. Watched my friends die for this. I buried people who meant something because they stood in my way. I earned this crown."
He kicked a trash can, hard enough to bend the metal.
"And some no-name kid who didn't know which street was safe two months ago comes around and—what? Breaks a few crates? Spits a few words?"
Ace stopped again.
"I lost a supplier because of that photo. You know that?"
He pointed the crowbar at Aria's head.
"They saw your little stunt and pulled out. Said I 'looked sloppy.' Like I run a daycare instead of a business."
He kicked Aria in the ribs—hard.
"You made me look soft, you little shit."
Aria gasped. Couldn't even cry out. Just curled in on himself.
---
Ace crouched again. Pulled Aria's face up by the chin.
"You got any idea what I had to do to get here?"
His voice dropped lower.
"I've killed people with my hands, Aria. I've burned families out of their homes. I put a bullet in my cousin's face when he got sloppy. And you…"
He let go.
"You just kept talking."
He stood.
"I should've put you down after the second hit. That's on me."
He raised the crowbar.
"But I'm gonna fix that now."
Aria couldn't lift his head.
Couldn't move his arms.
His whole body felt like glass—cracked, not yet shattered.
His face was stuck to the pavement by dried blood and spit, and every breath scraped fire into his ribs.
Ace stood over him.
Breathing heavy.
The crowbar hung loose from his fingers, still stained red.
"I should've ended this earlier," Ace muttered. "Should've done it clean."
He paced a slow circle around Aria's broken body, every bootstep steady.
"I sent you warnings. Sent guys after you. Sent Maddox."
A short, bitter laugh.
"You didn't fold. I don't know if that makes you brave or fucking stupid."
He crouched, close now. The heat of him, the stink of sweat and smoke.
"But you did something I didn't expect," he said, voice low. "You made the city look at me different."
He spit to the side.
"They looked at you. A kid. A nobody. And they started whispering like you were something."
He stood again.
"You walked through half my crew. Bleeding. Limping. Face all busted up. And you still kept moving."
A pause.
"You made it here."
He stared down at him.
"You win."
Another pause.
"But you don't walk away."
---
Ace took a slow breath.
"You don't get to be the hero. That's not how this works."
He looked toward the barbershop.
"You want to live? You get up, you take my hand, and I give you a place. Under me. You speak when I say. You move when I say. And maybe, maybe… you matter."
He turned back.
"But if you don't say it now… if you don't say yes?"
Ace tightened his grip on the crowbar.
"I bury you here. No name. No warning. I crack your skull open like a fucking watermelon and leave your bones for the city rats."
He leaned forward, voice low:
"Last chance."
---
Silence.
Aria twitched. That was it.
Then, slowly, his lips moved.
Thick with blood. Swollen. Cracked.
His voice barely came out. Muffled. But clear.
"...you can shove your offer up your fucking ass, Ace."
---
Ace froze.
One second.
Two.
He didn't breathe.
Then he stood.
Fast.
Like something snapped behind his eyes.
No yelling. No warning.
He kicked Aria—hard. Right in the face.
A sick, wet sound followed.
Aria's head snapped sideways. He went still.
Not unconscious—just too hurt to move.
Ace stood over him, breathing heavy, eyes wide like something inside him had just broken open.
"That was it," he said. Voice hollow now.
"You're done."
He turned.
Pointed the crowbar at Aria like a judge passing sentence.
"You don't fight like a punk. You don't even fight like a banger."
His voice turned to a snarl.
> "You fight like someone who used to run black ops—quiet, fast, and dirty like a fuckin' agency dog."
---
And something cracked.
Not in Ace.
In Aria.
The words slid into place like a key in a lock.
Suddenly, everything changed.
His breath steadied.
His pulse slowed.
The pain didn't vanish, but it moved—shoved into a corner where it wouldn't matter.
He didn't just know how to fight anymore.
He understood why. When. Where to break bones to end a fight in one hit.
He knew angles, reactions, habits. How to move through a room and own it.
How to turn a pipe into a weapon, a wall into leverage, a breath into misdirection.
He didn't feel strong.
He felt trained.
---
Ace raised the crowbar.
"Goodbye, you stubborn little—"
Aria moved.
Fast.
Too fast.
His arm shot up and caught Ace's wrist mid-swing.
Before Ace could react, Aria twisted—sharp and exact—and Ace dropped the crowbar with a shout.
Aria pushed off the ground, rising slow but steady.
Blood still dripping from his mouth.
But his stance?
Solid. Balanced. Efficient.
---
Ace stepped back, shocked.
"The fuck...?"
Aria didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
He ducked under Ace's clumsy follow-up swing, stepped inside, and slammed an elbow into his jaw.
Ace stumbled.
Aria pressed forward. Hook to the ribs. Palm to the throat. Step, pivot, sweep.
Ace hit the concrete hard.
Before he could get up, Aria planted a foot on his chest.
Breathing controlled. Eyes sharp.
He looked down.
Spoke flat.
> "Still think I'm just some punk?"
Before he could react, Aria stepped forward, dropped a knee into his ribs, and pinned him.
Every movement was minimal. Clean. Efficient.
Aria wasn't fighting to win.
He was clearing a threat.
---
Ace twisted, grabbed Aria's arm.
Aria shifted, rolled his elbow over and broke the grip, then drove his forearm down into Ace's jaw.
Ace gasped. Aria's fingers went to his throat.
He could've crushed his windpipe.
He hesitated.
And that was his mistake.
---
His leg buckled.
The pain hit like a firecracker under his skin.
His ribs screamed.
The adrenaline burned too fast.
His body remembered what it had gone through.
He faltered.
Ace caught it.
And with a roar, he shoved Aria off and slammed him into the ground with all the strength he had left.
Aria rolled, tried to rise—but Ace was already swinging.
Fist. Elbow. Knee.
Aria blocked two.
The third hit.
Hard.
His head hit pavement.
The lights went dim at the edges.
---
Ace grabbed him by the collar, lifted him off the ground with both hands.
"You should've stayed down, kid," he snarled. "You were already a dead man the second you got my name in your mouth."
He raised a fist.
Aria couldn't lift his arms.
---
Then a voice cut through everything.
"Drop him, Ace."
It was calm.
Not a shout. Not a threat.
Just a statement.
Ace turned his head.
Maddox stood at the mouth of the alley.
Bloodied. Silent.
Holding a pistol. Aimed directly at Ace's head.
---
Ace froze.
Then scoffed.
"You gonna shoot me, Mads?"
Maddox stepped forward.
"You don't walk away from this."
Another step.
"This is on you. Every body. Every broken kid you buried."
He stopped just ten feet away.
"I told you I'd work with him."
---
Ace laughed again. Short. Cold.
"You really think you can take this city without me?"
"No," Maddox said. "But I can start by taking you."
He pulled the trigger.
One clean shot.
Ace dropped like a sack of bricks.
No scream. No twitch.
Dead before he hit the pavement.
---
Maddox lowered the gun slowly.
Walked over.
Kneeling beside Aria, he checked his pulse.
Still there. Barely.
"Can you hear me?" he asked.
Aria blinked once.
Then twice.
"…Guess that means you're in," he muttered, voice cracked.
Maddox smirked.
"You're a pain in the ass."
Aria smiled, blood in his teeth.
"Yeah… but I get results."
---
Then they heard it.
Sirens.
Distant. Getting closer.
Maddox's head turned. "We need to move."
"Yeah," Aria muttered, trying to sit up more. "Before they ask too many questions."
"You can stand?"
"Probably not."
"Too bad."
Maddox grabbed him under the arm and pulled him up. Aria hissed through his teeth.
"Goddamn—watch the ribs—"
"You have ribs left?"
"...good point."
---
They staggered down the alley, Maddox taking most of the weight.
The city lights hit them hard when they stepped out—too bright after that kind of darkness.
People passed by without looking twice.
Nobody cared.
Or they pretended not to.
That was just New York.
---
Maddox didn't look back.
Didn't need to see the body again.
But Aria did.
One glance over his shoulder.
One last look at the man who'd almost killed him—and who he would've killed first, if Maddox hadn't pulled the trigger.
"Guess that's that," Aria muttered.
"No," Maddox said, not slowing. "That was just the start."
---
They didn't say anything else after that.
Didn't have to.
They just kept moving.
Two guys bleeding down the sidewalk like it was any other night.
Author's Note:
Well... that escalated.
Aria's face is broken. Maddox pulled a trigger. Ace is permanently unavailable for future appearances. And somehow, the cops still didn't show up on time—classic.
If you've made it this far, I'm guessing you're into emotional damage, morally flexible alliances, and main characters who don't know when to quit. Same.
If you enjoyed the chapter, consider adding this fic to your collection so you don't lose it in the sea of chaos, and drop a comment if you've got thoughts, reactions, or just wanna yell at a character (they deserve it).
Chapter 11's coming in hot. Things are only getting messier from here.
Thanks for reading, legends.