VANTABLACK VOWS

"Shit."

"What do you mean, 'shit'?" a voice hissed from a slit of darkness to her left.

Kyoline's head snapped toward the alley. Her pulse thudded in her ears. She clutched the backpack strap and took a step back. "Who's there?"

"Don't turn around like prey," the voice said. Low, calm. "Just walk in here, slow."

Her instincts screamed no, but the street behind her was too open, too lit. She edged toward the shadows, her eyes adjusting.

A tall figure in a hooded coat waited against the brick. The hood cast their face in shadow, but the shape of their mouth was visible when they spoke - sharp, deliberate, like every word was weighed before release.

"You're at the right place," they said. "But the party's been canceled."

She gripped the strap harder. The gun inside the bag seemed to drag her down. "Canceled? What are you talking about? I've got a delivery."

"Yeah, and so did that kid they just cuffed two blocks over."

Her stomach tightened. "You... you saw that?"

"I see everything," the figure said. The faint scent of tobacco drifted from them, mixed with something metallic. "And what I see is a girl about to walk right into a trap."

A patrol car rolled past the alley mouth, its headlights cutting across her face. She flinched, pressing against the wall until it passed.

"A trap?" she whispered. "But Tenz-"

"Tenz," the figure scoffed, the sound dry. "He's been looking for a fall guy for months. Too much heat on him, so he feeds you to the cops. They bust you, he's clean."

Kyoline's mind stuttered through the past hour - the phone call from Tenz, the promise of quick cash, the cruiser idling at the corner when she arrived. All coincidence until now.

Her chest hurt. "He told me it was a simple run. That I'd get a cut."

"Simple for him," the figure said. "You take the fall, he scares the rest into line. He gets loyalty without having to pay for it."

Her hand shook against the strap. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you're useful. And because I don't like watching talent get burned for free."

Another beam of light swept the alley - this time a flashlight. Someone called out from the street, the sound of boots crunching pavement.

"Move," the figure said. They took her arm, firm but not rough, guiding her deeper into the alley where the shadows thickened. "Keep your head down."

They stopped behind a dumpster, close enough for her to feel the warmth of their body. She could hear the faint, even sound of their breathing, unbothered by the search just feet away.

Bootsteps neared, paused, then retreated. The patrol car rolled off.

Only then did they speak again. "What's in the bag isn't just a gun."

Her brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"There's a chip inside it. Tenz has been planting them in his couriers' drops for months. Tracks every move you make. Then he sells that data to anyone who pays enough - rivals, cops, doesn't matter."

She stared at them. The smell of tobacco clung to their coat. "So the others-"

"Were never unlucky," they said. "They were tagged."

Her fear shifted to anger, a hot coil in her stomach. "So what? I toss it and run?"

"No. We use it."

She shook her head. "You want me to keep the chip that's been tracking me?"

"Not exactly. We take it out. We leave the gun where he can find it on his tracker. He'll think you ditched it and got away clean. Meanwhile, you're working for me."

She hesitated. "Working doing what?"

"Taking back everything he's stolen. Shipments. Clients. Trust. You move in the dark, and Tenz never sees you coming."

The cold night pressed against her skin. "I don't even know who you are."

"You will," they said. A small shift of the hood let her glimpse part of their face - a pale line of scar along their jaw, eyes like cold glass that missed nothing.

"And what if you're just another Tenz?" she asked.

A short silence. Then, "Then you walk away tonight and take your chances. But you know as well as I do, walking away doesn't make you invisible. Tenz will still see you. And once you're marked as a problem..." They let the words trail.

Her throat felt tight. "I have family."

"I know," they said quietly. "They stay safe if you stay with me."

"And if I don't?"

The figure didn't answer.

The silence was louder than any threat.

She looked toward the street. A second patrol car crept past. The trap was closing.

Her grip on the strap eased, the weight of the decision settling heavier than the gun.

"What's the first move?" she asked, her voice thin.

"We get the chip out and disappear for a while. You'll need a new phone. New name."

"And after that?"

"You go back to Tenz. Tell him the deal went bad, but you walked out clean. He'll believe you. Then we start bleeding him."

The idea of facing Tenz again twisted her stomach, but there was steel under the fear now. "I want him to know it's me when it all comes down."

The figure's mouth curved in a small, dangerous smile. "He will."

They started walking, guiding her through the back alleys. She noticed the way they checked every corner before stepping out, the way they never let their back stay exposed.

"Why me?" she asked as they moved.

"You're fast. Careful. And I've seen you keep your mouth shut when it mattered. That's rare."

She almost asked how they'd seen her before, but stopped. Some answers were better saved for later.

They reached an unmarked door and slipped inside. The air smelled of oil and dust. A single lamp lit the space - a table, a chair, and a small case the figure set down.

"Put the bag here."

She did. They unzipped it, took out the gun, and with practiced hands, began to dismantle it. A tiny chip slid free, glinting under the lamp.

"That's it?" she asked.

"That's enough to ruin him if we play it right," they said. They placed the chip in a small metal box. "This will feed us everything he's doing, everywhere he sends his people. And you'll be in the perfect position to hurt him."

She stared at the weapon, now just cold pieces on the table. "Feels too easy."

"It won't be. He'll fight back. And when he does, you'll be ready."

Something in their tone made her believe it.

They closed the box, pocketed it, then tossed her a small envelope.

"What's this?"

"Rent money. Enough for a month. Consider it your sign-on bonus."

She opened it, the sight of real cash making her throat tighten. "Why?"

"I told you. Investment."

For the first time that night, she felt something cut through the fear. Purpose.

She nodded slowly. "Alright. I'm in."

The figure's smile was small, but there was satisfaction in it. "Then let's get to work."

"What did you say to me?" Kyoline's voice cut low, steady, almost too calm for the way her hands stopped mid-polish over the glass. The bar noise faltered, like someone had turned down the volume.

Cat M'Noo didn't blink. She stepped in, heels tapping against the sticky wood floor, perfume thick enough to choke. Her red lips curled into something smug. "I said the whole casino knows what your mother is. Works at that neon dive on the south strip. And not just answering phones, sweetheart. She's the one who... entertains the high-rollers."

A man near the jukebox coughed into his drink. Lydia, balancing a tray of fresh bottles, froze mid-step. A single glass slipped from her hand, exploded against the floor, and rolled into silence.

"Cat, shut your mouth," Lydia snapped, voice sharp enough to cut.

"No," Cat said, never breaking eye contact with Kyoline. "She should hear it. We all know her father ran jobs for the wrong people until he got himself caught. We all know her mother sells herself now. And we all know you're following right in their footsteps."

Kyoline's nails dug into her palms until she felt skin break. The pain kept her rooted in place, kept her from vaulting over the counter and smashing that painted face into the floor.

"My mother had a heart attack," Kyoline said, voice flat. "She works the front desk. She greets clients and takes calls. That's all."

Cat's laugh was high and sharp. "Front desk doesn't cover hospital bills. Not in this city. And speaking of bills, rumor is you've been running packages for Tenz Jersey. Dangerous packages. The kind that get girls found floating in the harbor."

The name sucked the air out of the room. Tenz wasn't a man you joked about. Not here.

"I work here. That's it."

From the end of the bar, a slow clap broke the silence. Marco pushed away from his stool and sauntered closer, black leather jacket creaking, eyes glittering with something mean. "That's a sweet story, but here's the problem, Kyoline." He dug into his pocket and tossed something on the bar.

It landed with a dull clink. Her breath caught.

Her keychain. The one with the chipped blue rabbit's foot her little sister had given her. She'd lost it during the courier job, somewhere between the alley and the back fence.

"I believe this is yours," Marco said. "Picked it up right after you ducked into that alley with MIA. Funny place for a bartender to be."

The rabbit's foot seemed to grow heavier in front of her, like the whole bar was staring at it instead of her face.

"You've been following me?"

"I follow opportunity," Marco said, leaning in until she caught the sour tang of whiskey on his breath. "And right now, you're one. You're sloppy. You're scared. And scared people make mistakes."

A stool scraped back hard. Lydia stepped in between them. "Back off, Marco. You don't belong here."

He smirked at her, but his eyes stayed locked on Kyoline. "You hear Tenz cut her loose yet? Word is she's burned. No more jobs. No more protection. She's a free target now."

Her stomach turned ice.

The phone behind the counter rang. A shrill, jarring sound that made her flinch. Lydia reached for it, but Kyoline moved faster, snatching the receiver like it might stop the whole world from hearing what came next.

"Kyoline?" Her mother's voice was thin, shaking.

"Mom? What's wrong?"

"I got a call," she whispered, like someone was in the room with her. "A man said you've been causing trouble. He said you embarrassed Mr. Jersey. And... he told me to remind you what happened to your father."

Kyoline gripped the phone harder. "Who was he?"

"I don't know. He hung up before I could ask." She paused, breath catching. "Kyoline... are you in danger?"

Her throat closed. She wanted to lie, but the words caught in her teeth. "I'll fix it, Mom. I'll handle it."

"No," her mother said, suddenly fierce despite the tremor in her voice. "You come home now. If they know where I work, they know where you live. And if they-"

A click. Dead line.

"Mom? Mom!"

Silence.

She set the receiver down slowly, aware that every eye in the bar was still on her. Her pulse thudded in her ears.

"You okay?" Lydia's voice was quieter now.

"No." It came out raw. "I think... I think they just put a target on my whole family."

"Then you're done here for tonight. Go. I'll cover you."

Kyoline shook her head. "If I leave, they'll follow. They already are." Her eyes flicked toward the door, where Marco now stood leaning against the frame, smiling like he'd won. Cat lounged at a table behind him, sipping her drink like she was waiting for the next act.

Lydia glanced between them, reading something in their posture that made her jaw tighten. She lowered her voice. "Back room. Now."

Kyoline ducked under the counter, moving fast, heart hammering. She slipped through the narrow hall toward the supply room, but the creak of the front door made her stop.

Footsteps. Heavy, deliberate. Not Marco's. Not anyone she knew.

"Lydia," a deep voice called. Smooth, dangerous. "Tell Kyoline I need a word."

Kyoline froze halfway to the back door.

Lydia's voice carried from the bar. "She's not here."

"That's funny," the man said. "Because I can smell her perfume from here."

Kyoline's breath caught.

Another voice, this one colder. "Tenz says she's done. But I say she still owes him. And I always collect."

Her pulse kicked into overdrive. The hall suddenly felt too narrow, the air too thick. She inched toward the back exit, but a shadow stretched across the wall ahead of her - long, slow-moving. Someone was already back there.

She turned, eyes darting to the nearest hiding spot, but the supply room door was locked. Footsteps closed in from both ends of the hall.

"Kyoline," the first voice said, almost playful now. "Be smart. We only need a minute. And then, maybe, we let your mother keep breathing."

Her stomach dropped. She heard Lydia's sharp intake of breath from the front.

Kyoline pressed herself against the wall, mind racing. Two choices. Step out and face them here, where Marco and Cat would watch her break... or make a run for the narrow window in the storage nook, the one that opened onto the alley.

From the front, the deep voice called again. "Tick tock, little runner."

Kyoline took one last look toward the window.

And bolted.

I was never among the cool girls at school, and that was perfectly fine with me because all I ever wanted was to maintain a low profile and be under the gossips' radar. I wish I were the kind of person who had the ability to just disregard comments like this, but the guffaws of CAT M'NOO and her friends cause a blush of humiliation to come overwhelm me in its waves. I know my mom is basically definitely calling me because she's drunk. She's drunk, or she's stoned, or she's both. And I can't retort anything back at Cat because I so desperately need this job.

I attempt to ignore the whispers around me and make my way to the back area. LYDIA is also making her way to the back towards the storeroom, and I trail behind her slowly. She, like almost everyone else, knows that my mom is an escort.

"I don't think it's anything serious, KYOLINE. Your mother is not feeling well and wants you to come home."

She's sick. Which means she's stoned out of her mind. And she's either locked herself out of the apartment, or she's run out of booze, dope, and money.

I move through the rear lobby, taking note as always of the marble checkerboard floor. Black and white.

It would be so much easier if life were black or white. Right or wrong. Happy or sad. Light or dark...

But it's not. Because life-my life, especially-isn't meant to be easy.

That's why I play chess.

On the black and white board I got on my seventh birthday, I learned the letter and number of each square, a million sequences, and a multitude of strategies. And on that board, I always know if I'm attacking, defending, or just biding my time.

Wouldn't life be easier if it was a set of predetermined moves? Which if you made, would lead you to where you wished?

For in chess, the pieces follow rules and move in predetermined steps. But in life, all you can do is make a move and hope it doesn't lead to checkmate.

Arriving at the office, I glance around me before carefully picking up the phone. "Mom?"

"KYOLINE? I need you. I'm sick," she slurrs.

She's clearly drunk. I cringe inwardly, hoping Lydia didn't hear her in this state.

"Okay, Mom. I'm coming. Are you home?"

I hear her bumping into something. "But I can't find my keys." she wails.

"Just wait for me. I'll be there in a bit, and I'll let you in.

For a long time now, I've felt like the parent and felt like I've got to take care of her.

I hate to let work down, and I hate to miss this shift because of the money. Even though I've gotten the money from the gun run, that's going to go towards the two months' rent we're behind and next month's rent. I still need to earn money for utilities and food and all that other stuff.

I rush home and arrive just in time to find Mom lying on the floor outside our apartment. "Come on, Mom," I breathe heavily as I haul her to her feet.

I open the apartment door with my key and help her stagger to her bedroom where she collapses onto her bed.

"He's left me." She starts to cry.

Oh God. She's been dumped. And although the latest one is yet another loser who she'll be better off without, I still don't want her to have to go through this pain.

"I'll go make you a coffee and bring it in to you. It'll make you feel better." And it will sober her up. Because when she's drunk, she also gets maudlin.

Heading to our tiny kitchen, I'm pouring the coffee when a knock at the door interrupts my thoughts.

I hope to God it's not one of the neighbors wanting to complain-again-about my mom causing a disturbance when she couldn't get into our apartment. Being wasted makes her curse and shout and scream. A lot.

I slowly open the front door to find a man holding a huge bouquet of flowers.

"Delivery for KYOLINE DIEGO."

"That's me!" I give the delivery guy a big smile, and he smiles back. That's the nice thing about smiles and laughter-they're infectious and brighten up the whole day. Maybe that's a dumb thing to think, but with all my problems, I hold on to small things like this.

Pushing the door open wider, my cheeks flush with delight as my arms go out to receive the bunch of dark pink roses and stargazer lilies he holds out to me. "Thank you so much! " I shut the door and lean against it, gazing in delight at the beautiful blooms, inhaling a lungful of their heady perfume before I examine the card. The flowers are from TENZ JER'SEY. They have to be a good sign. He wouldn't be sending me flowers if I was useless or meaningless-if I was unlovable, right? Because people comment on my background far too often, and it always leaves me feeling like I'm not good enough...I am trying not to consider the rumor I've heard. Because it's just that. A rumor. Probably started by some individual who was trying to cause me problems. He wouldn't cheat on me, would he?

I'd dump him in a second if he had lied and cheated, but I'm pretty certain that he would never do something like that to me because, besides being my boyfriend, he's my best friend.

I glance at the flowers again and grab my cell to text him.

Kyoline: The flowers are gorgeous. I love them.

Tenz: Anything for you, baby. Aren't you still at work?

Kyoline: Had to come home for a Mom emergency.

Tenz: If you're not working, we've got a meeting in the back room at MANCHESTER LED at 5 p.m. and could do with an extra cocktail waitress?

Kyoline: For definite! I need the extra work after having to leave today's shift. See you there xxx

When my mother is like this, I know she'll sleep shortly and forget it, so I will have a chance to do another shift. After putting the flowers in water and looking at them again, I know I should be quick if I don't want to be late, but I go and change my dress because I want to look my absolute best if I'm going to see Tenz.

One of the things I like about working at MANCHESTER LED is that workers are permitted to wear their own clothes as long as it falls under the worker dress code of 'smart and stylish.' My feet move on auto as I head over to my closet. I stand before all the sparkly dresses before me, my gold-tipped fingers running over the fabrics as I deliberate over my options. And my eyes fall on the security tags still on... It's something I hate about myself, and honestly, I am truly ashamed about the whole thing and really wish that I could stop. I've tried to quit so many times, and I do have serious issues.

I look at the dresses before me and think that if I'm dressed in these sparkly dresses, it allows me to play the part of being worth something and makes it a little easier to blend in despite everything that's happened.

Despite the fact that that's not really why I own them...

And I pick one of my favorites-a gold dress that clings to my body like a second skin and falls mid-thigh. Although it's not gold exactly because the sales tag reads that it's CHAMPAGNE MIST. This dress, and all of the other ones I have that are in the same color, aren't simply gold. No, they're all called something more unique and special.

I slip on the dress and zip myself into it, getting myself ready as quickly as possible, finishing it off with my work badge that boasts 'MANCHESTER LED' in a curving gold script.

Running a hairbrush through my glossy black hair and adding a dash of mascara to my green eyes, I calculate in my mind how much money I'll earn this afternoon and how much closer it will get me to covering this month's utilities and food expenses.

I carry the coffee into my mom's bedroom and place it on her nightstand, where I know that it'll more likely sit and get cold and stay untouched. But I'm not about to let my mom's issues spoil my mood today.

I take the train and climb the stairs out of the station. I've never gotten anything on Valentine's Day in my entire life, and I'm in such a great mood I'm practically bouncing along in my black Balenciaga boots-a gift from Tenz.

And I go along in my own little cloud of happiness, daydreaming and off in my own world.

Not aware that I'm going to get pulled over by the law.

And hauled down to the station.

Because I'm doing this for the family of my mobster boyfriend...

I smooth out my sparkly dress as I walk. People always ask me why I adore the color gold so much. Well, it's easy. It's because it reminds me of the sun. Of happiness. And of positivity. Because with all of the issues in my life, if I can be positive, then I definitely feel a little better about myself and the rest of the world.

I'm lost in my own thoughts when a black SUV appears on my right. Silence is the first thing I hear. No tire squeal, no beep-just the near-silent glide of a car pulling up next to me. High-end. Predator-smooth. The kind of car that doesn't need to make noise to be lethal.

I try to glance at it out of the corner of my eye to see if I can make out who's in the car. But the tint on the windows is too dark.

The expensive motor is nearly silent in the still summer air as it inches along beside me. Goosebumps erupt on my arms. I walk a bit quicker as the car creeps along and keeps pace with my walking.

I walk straight ahead, yet my heart racing in my chest. Is someone behind me? Or a policeman trying to catch me? Or, even worse, a Fed...?

These scenarios simply terrify me.My sweaty hand gently brushes against me to feel if my dress is still on, wincing when my fingers touch hard plastic. The security tag. I turn on my heel and take a sharp left down a narrow side street.