The street did not welcome them.
Light pooled weakly beneath a flickering lamp, barely touching the alley's bones. Trash whispered as it skittered across cracked pavement, stirred by a wind that smelled faintly of rust and old rain. Somewhere far off, a siren cried, then drowned itself in distance.
Lorna stepped forward.
She peeled herself from Maya and Caroline like a shadow tearing free of its source. The twins clutched at her arms, fingers trembling, fear seeping into their grip.
"…No."
Her voice was quiet. Flat. Final.
It was not a plea.
It was a boundary.
Maya and Caroline tried to pull her back, panic sharpening their movements, but it was like trying to restrain a tide with bare hands. Lorna's gaze had already locked onto the three men in black standing across the street. Their shoulders stiffened as they noticed. A flicker of amusement passed between them, thin and careless, the way predators joke before a chase.
"What did you say?" one of them asked, the humor slipping as uncertainty crept in.
Caroline's voice cracked behind Lorna. "Yeah… what did you say? I don't wanna get killed!"
The men stepped forward, slow and deliberate, testing her. Measuring.
The street seemed to exhale.
Cold crawled up the concrete. Shadows sharpened, stretching longer than they should have, bending subtly toward Lorna like iron filings toward a magnet.
Her pupils dilated. Her jaw tightened.
Every movement of her face was deliberate. Calculated. Not human in the usual sense.
She was no longer just Lorna.
Something older had surfaced. Something that did not negotiate.
The first man took another step.
There was a sudden, brutal snap.
Her fist connected with his mouth.
For a heartbeat, the world froze.
Then his jaw twisted violently to the side, bone giving way with a wet, sickening crack. He staggered, turning as if confused, blood spilling freely from a mouth that no longer understood how to close.
He screamed.
The sound tore through the street, raw and animal. Blood sprayed across the pavement as the camera of the moment lingered on his face, horror and disbelief colliding in his eyes.
The other two men froze.
The broken one gurgled, clutching what remained of his jaw as he collapsed backward, noise leaking from him like air from a punctured lung.
Lorna stood still.
The only calm thing left on the street.
Her leg completed its motion through the air with surgical precision, fluid and unshaken. She didn't even look at the man she'd broken. He no longer mattered.
Behind her, Maya and Caroline stumbled back, shock stealing the strength from their knees.
"Oh my God…" Caroline whispered, hands shaking.
Lorna lowered her gaze slowly, scanning what remained.
The silence stretched. Thick. Oppressive. It pressed against skin and breath alike.
Her face held no triumph. No rage.
Only control.
She stepped forward.
The world cut to black.
⸻
When the scene returned, Lorna was waiting.
Not rushing. Not hesitating.
Waiting to end this quickly.
"Jesus, Paul, what the fuck just happened?!" one of the men shouted, voice cracking.
"Gimme the bat," the other snapped.
"Huh? No, we need to g—"
"THE BAT. NOW!"
A hand was thrust out. A baseball bat slapped into it.
The man rolled his shoulders and looked at Lorna, smiling wide and ugly, like this was finally getting interesting.
"I love a fighter…"
He spun the bat once, twice, letting it hum through the air.
Lorna cracked her neck.
The sound echoed louder than it should have.
She lowered herself into a stance, weight sinking, balance perfect. Her body coiled close to the ground, ready to spring.
Behind her, Maya and Caroline stared, fear cutting clean through their voices.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"
Lorna didn't answer.
She didn't even hear them.
The two predators began to circle each other, steps slow, deliberate. The broken man moaned somewhere nearby, a reminder of what hesitation earned.
The man lunged.
Not a full swing.
A probe.
The blunt tip of the bat jabbed toward her ribs, testing distance, rhythm.
She moved.
Each strike passed inches from her skin as she slipped between them, landing briefly on hands and toes, movements elastic and precise. Her breathing stayed steady. Calm.
Music crept in. Calculating. Mechanical. A pulse beneath the violence.
"You really did a number on our friend," the man said, watching her carefully now.
Lorna smiled.
It was not friendly.
"Maybe I did. Whatchya gonna do about it?"
"Aggressive," Paul laughed. "I like that. Makes you a lot more thrilling to catch."
Her smile vanished.
"So let me guess," Lorna said evenly. "You're trying to sell us. That about right?"
The music cut out.
"HE'S GONNA WHAT?!" Caroline shrieked.
"Well I'll be…" Paul started. "Someone's a lil' intuitive—"
"Stop fucking with me," Lorna snapped. "Tell me what you want."
"As I said, girly," he replied. "I need y'all. Cash to make. Hoes to take."
"And a dictionary to pick up," Caroline muttered.
"CAROLINE!" Maya hissed.
"I'm sorry! Reflex!"
The bat came down hard.
This time, it connected.
Pain exploded through Lorna's right side as wood smashed into bone. Something inside her cracked, sharp and unmistakable. She leapt sideways, breath tearing from her lungs.
"Goddamnit!"
The man didn't slow.
He raised the bat high and slammed it down like a war hammer.
Lorna dodged just in time.
Concrete shattered beside her, the sidewalk splintering into jagged fragments as Maya screamed her name into the night.
"LORNA!"
Lorna jumped back.
She saved herself.
Not fast enough.
Pain bloomed at her hairline as something split skin. Warmth spilled down her forehead, thick and blinding, streaking into her eyes. The world smeared. Lights fractured. Shapes doubled.
She staggered, swiping at her face, breath sharp in her throat. For half a second, the blood cleared.
That was when she saw him.
Too close.
His fist collided with her face.
The impact snapped her head sideways and sent her flying backward, body weightless for a heartbeat before gravity reclaimed her. She hit the ground once. Then again. The pavement stole her breath and rang through her bones.
Footsteps approached.
Measured. Confident.
Paul loomed into her vision as she struggled to rise, her body lagging a fraction behind her will.
"Come on, birdie," he crooned. "Don't run away just yet."
He crouched beside her, close enough that she could smell him. Sweat. Metal. Cheap cologne curdled by adrenaline.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk…" His voice lowered, almost fond. "Cute girl. Dumb broad. You should've just walked with u—"
Crack.
The sound cut the air clean in half.
Paul's voice died instantly.
The world held still.
No one moved.
Then the moment widened.
Lorna's body twisted upward from the ground, momentum coiling through her spine. She spun, balanced impossibly on her head and shoulders like a dancer hitting a final pose mid-performance.
Her leg lashed out.
Her foot collided with the baseball bat with a sharp, hollow impact, redirecting its weight straight into Paul's skull.
The sound was ugly.
Blunt.
Final.
His body jerked once. A broken noise slipped from his throat before he collapsed sideways, unconscious before he hit the pavement.
Silence rushed back in, heavy and stunned.
No one spoke.
Everyone watched Lorna push herself upright.
She rose slowly, unsteady but deliberate, blood streaking her face like war paint gone wrong. Her eyes locked onto the final man.
For a split second, she glared.
Then her expression shifted.
Confusion.
The world spun.
The camera followed her gaze as it whipped around to reveal him running. Sprinting. Fleeing down the street with no dignity left to salvage.
He did not want to fight her.
Lorna let out a breath and turned back toward the twins.
"You guys okay?"
Maya rushed forward, voice shaking. "ARE YOU OK?! What the hell was that?!"
Caroline stared at her, eyes wide, something like awe slipping through the fear. "That was… cool…"
"Thanks—"
Lorna didn't finish.
Her knees buckled.
She collapsed forward, blood pouring freely now, dark and unstoppable. The world tilted sharply as gravity pulled her down.
Maya and Caroline caught her just in time.
"Oh my God— Lorna— stay with us—"
"Why is there so much blood?!"
Their voices overlapped, frantic and breaking.
Lorna lay cradled between them, the street lights above her stretching into long, glowing smears. The sounds around her dulled, as if cotton had been packed into her ears.
Her vision dimmed.
From her point of view, the twins blurred together, arguing, shaking, trying to decide what to do, hands trembling as they pressed uselessly at her wound.
She tried to speak.
"Wait…" Her voice came out thin. Distant. "Don't worry… I'm fiii—"
The word unraveled before it finished.
Darkness folded in.
Then light again.
Too bright.
White walls. Sirens muted into a low hum. The rhythmic jolt of motion beneath her body. Red and blue flashes bleeding through her eyelids.
An ambulance.
Police voices murmured somewhere nearby, distant and unimportant.
Lorna closed her eyes.
Wait… don't worry… I'm fiii—"
Lorna's voice thinned into nothing.
Darkness folded over her again, gentle this time, like a hand pressed over her eyes.
When she opened them once more, white light flooded in. The inside of an ambulance hummed and rattled around her, sirens dulled to a distant ache. Red and blue strobed across the ceiling. Police voices murmured somewhere beyond her reach.
She let her eyes slip shut again.
⸻
When consciousness returned, it was quieter.
Still white, but softer.
She lay in a hospital bed, sheets tucked too tight, the smell of disinfectant heavy in the air. Turning her head sent a dull warning through her skull, but she managed it.
To her right, Maya and Caroline were slumped together in a plastic chair, heads resting against each other's shoulders. Both were fast asleep. Exhaustion had finally claimed them.
Lorna exhaled.
Then she heard movement.
To her left.
She turned her head slowly.
A doctor stood beside the bed, tall and composed. Brown hair pulled neatly back. Eyes a striking red beneath the fluorescent lights. One hand held a needle. The other steadied the IV line.
"Whaa—"
"Shhh," the doctor whispered gently. "Don't worry. Just go back to sleep."
The needle slid in.
Lorna reached out weakly, fingers barely lifting from the sheet, but the world softened too quickly. The edges blurred. The ceiling dissolved.
As her consciousness slipped, she saw the doctor step away from the bed. At the doorway, she turned back and waved once.
Then everything went dark again.
⸻
Lorna lay motionless in her hospital bed.
Morning light filtered in through the blinds. Maya and Caroline had stepped out to grab lunch, promising they would be back fast.
Two doctors stood at the foot of the bed, charts in hand.
"She still asleep?" one asked.
"She got the shit kicked out of her," the other replied bluntly. "I'm surprised she's even alive with a head injury like that. Asleep is the best situation right now."
"I guess," the first said, frowning. "But shouldn't she have moved by now?"
"I was told she woke up briefly last night, then went back out. Nurse said she looked fine. Vitals are clean. Nothing abnormal. We wait."
The first doctor hesitated. "I'll check her head again. Just to be safe."
"Be my guest."
He stepped closer, carefully parting Lorna's hair, checking the wound. His hands moved methodically until he reached behind her ear.
Then he froze.
"…Dr. Mills," he whispered. "You gotta see this."
The second doctor leaned in.
His face drained of color.
"Shit. Call the police.
Caroline skipped along the sidewalk, plastic bags swinging at her sides. Maya walked beside her, quieter than usual, shoulders tight.
Caroline glanced over and nudged her with an elbow. "Hey." She stopped walking and stared hard at her sister. "She's gonna be fine. She's breathing. She farted like twice. It's been fifteen hours. Just give it a second."
Maya didn't smile.
"…I dunno," she said. "I've got a bad feeling."
Sirens cut through the air.
One. Then several more.
They looked at each other.
And ran.
⸻
Maya tore down the corridor, shoving past startled patients and nurses without apology. Caroline followed behind, slower, tripping over her own feet and apologizing to everyone she bumped into.
"Sorry! Sorry! Oh my god sorry—"
Maya skidded to a stop outside Lorna's room.
Police.
Standing guard.
She shoved her way forward, shouting, "WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!"
"Your boyfriend—" one cop started.
"GIRLFRIEND, fuckface."
"That's a—"
"Just stay quiet," another cop cut in. He turned to Maya. "Your girlfriend seems to be involved in some shady dealings. Detectives are questioning her. You'll need to stay out here, ma'am."
"NO! This is bullshit! She got beat up! Why is she in trouble?!"
Caroline slid in behind her, suddenly confident.
"My client doesn't have to say a word without her lawyer present!"
Maya spun. "WHAT?!"
"After you, ma'am," the cop said, opening the door.
Caroline strutted past, turning just long enough to stick her tongue out.
"YOU BITCH!" Maya yelled. "WHY'D YOU LET HER IN?!"
"She's a lawyer," the cop replied.
"NO SHE—" Maya stopped. "…Nevermind."
⸻
Inside the room, Detectives Mare and Kimori stood at the foot of Lorna's bed.
"That explains the tattoo," Kimori said. "But it doesn't explain the attack. Those men were Yamagi. They weren't there to mess around."
"My guess?" Lorna replied tiredly. "They saw us at the club. Tried to abduct us. After that it's blurry. Just remember them attacking."
"WHAT'S GOING ON?!" Caroline shouted, plopping down beside Lorna. "My client doesn't have to answer anything unless I say so!"
"You are not a lawyer," Lorna muttered. "And please get off me. That hurts."
"Shit. Sorry."
"It's fine," Mare said. "We got what we needed. Seems like you and your friends were just victims of bad luck. All we can do now is make sure you stay safe."
"Yeah," Caroline muttered. "Great fuckin' job."
Mare sighed and straightened. "Alright. We're done here. Let's go, Justin. You kids have a good day. And you, Ms. Meizo. I recommend getting that tattoo removed."
"Yeah," Lorna said quietly. "Got it."
"Wait," Kimori started. "I still have a few—"
"We're good," Mare cut in. "Let them rest."
They left. The guards followed.
Maya stopped them in the hallway. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?"
Mare studied her face for a long second. Then smiled faintly.
"Damn. Practically the same person."
"Huh?!"
"You have a good one," he said over his shoulder. "See you when we see ya."
Maya stared after them, baffled.
Then she burst back into the room.
"LORNA!"
She launched herself onto the bed, tears spilling freely.
"FUCK ME IN THE ASSHOLE!" Lorna yelped.
"FUCK! Sorry! I'm sorry!"
"It's fine," Lorna laughed weakly. "You two okay?"
"We're fine," Maya sobbed, laughing through it. "I'm so happy you didn't die. DON'T YOU EVER DO THAT SHIT AGAIN, I SWEAR TO FUCK—"
"Okay! Okay! I got you."
Maya smacked her arm.
Lorna winced.
"That's for scaring the shit out of me."
"Yeah," Lorna sighed. "Guess I deserve that."
Maya collapsed onto her lap, clinging to her like she might disappear again.
"Never again," she whispered.
Lorna looked down at her girlfriend, eyes soft.
"Okay."
From the side of the room, Caroline watched them, a small, bittersweet smile tugging at her lips.
The storm had passed.
But something had been noticed.
Mare and Kimori walked side by side beneath fluorescent lights that hummed like insects trapped in glass.
"Do you believe her?" Kimori asked quietly.
Mare didn't answer right away.
"…For the most part," he said at last. "Not completely. But I can see it in her eyes. She truly believes she wasn't part of the Yamagi Group. At least not in any way that wasn't forced out of her."
Kimori exhaled through his nose. "Yeah… that was rough to hear." He hesitated. "You think the girlfriend knows?"
"About any of this?" Mare shook his head. "No. Unlikely. It's possible Lorna never told her. That girl looked… lost."
Kimori slowed his pace. "Before I forget. Isn't Lorna the one from the diner?"
Mare glanced up.
A crooked smile crept across his face.
"No. Not at all," he said. "That was pure coincidence."
Kimori blinked. "That smile makes me nervous."
"Pretty lucky, though," Mare continued lightly. "Now we know where she works."
Kimori stared at him. "…Are you being sarcastic or—"
"I'm serious," Mare replied. "I didn't know."
"You piss me off," Kimori muttered. "Because I genuinely can't tell when you're fucking with me."
"Jesus Christ," Mare snapped. "It happened. Get over it."
"SAM, I CAN'T—"
"SHUT UP."
Their voices faded as they turned the corner.
The hallway swallowed them.
Black.
⸻
Sunlight filtered through the blinds in thin, pale stripes.
Lorna lay propped up in bed, one eye swollen and wrapped, a dull ache pulsing through her skull. Maya sat beside her, arms folded, watching the doctor with thinly veiled suspicion.
"Alright," the doctor said cheerfully, flipping the chart closed. "You can go home tomorrow. We're keeping you one more night just to be safe. But honestly, you're healing fast. The swelling on your head and eye is already going down. Leave the bandage on for about a week, and other than that, you're doing great."
"I feel like shit," Lorna muttered.
"You probably will for a few days," the doctor replied. "Also, I recommend not smoking as much as you do. Your lungs look awful."
"Okay," Lorna said flatly. "Didn't ask for a life lesson."
"I'm just saying," the doctor shrugged. "I've seen eighty-year-olds with better lungs."
"Are you gonna sit here and just—"
"Yes."
They stared at each other.
Maya cleared her throat. "I, for one, agree—"
"Nobody asked," Lorna snapped.
"Okay, goddamn."
Lorna sank back into the pillow. "…So what now?"
"For now, you rest," the doctor said. "We discharge you at noon tomorrow. Get some sleep."
"Alright."
"I'll leave you two," he added. "Got other patients to check on."
The door closed behind him.
Silence settled in.
Not peaceful.
Heavy.
Maya shifted first. "So… what was that cop thing about? I thought Caroline and I already talked to them last night."
"…Nothing," Lorna said too quickly. "They just wanted descriptions of the guys who attacked us."
Maya turned slowly.
Her stare was sharp enough to cut.
"You're terrible at lying."
"NO I'M NOT," Lorna shot back. "HOW COULD YOU SAY THAT, I'M DOING GREAT—"
Maya smiled.
Lorna deflated instantly.
"…Okay," she sighed. "It's just… a lot. Stuff I don't really know how to talk about yet."
Maya's voice softened. "…What can I ask?"
Lorna rubbed the back of her neck, fingers lingering there longer than necessary.
"I'd rather you didn't," she said quietly.
Maya nodded.
She didn't push.
The camera drifted closer.
Lorna's sleeve slid down slightly, revealing skin behind her shoulder.
A tattoo.
Two black lines intersecting each other
The image tightened.
Closer.
Closer still.
The mark waited.
We set on a window with the same logo, it in a dirty alleyway.
Two young boys in raggedy clothes are visible, one is five, the other eight. The smaller one clutches onto the bigger one.
Inside this dusty house, we hear two people yelling.
"I swear to God… they'll be good, I promise!" Her voice trembled as she threw herself at the mercy of the men at the door.
The door swung open, revealing a fat man with a menacing grin and a slender woman who looked like she hadn't eaten in days. Hunger clawed at her bones, yet she stood silent.
The large man stepped forward, seizing the older boy by the chin. His face twisted in anger, while the smaller boy shrank into himself, trying to disappear.
"They're cute kids," the man said, his voice deceptively soft. "They'll make do."
And then, as casually as one might swat a fly, he slapped the older boy across the face. The woman flinched, stunned, unwilling—or perhaps too afraid—to speak. These were her children.
"Give her… ten grams," he added, almost casually. "Five for the both of them."
The thug nodded and disappeared, leaving the fat man to wander into the house. Moments later, he returned with a bag, tossing it onto the dirt. The woman scrambled to snatch it, her fingers clawing at the ground before she pulled herself upright. She cast a silent glance at her children, then ran, clutching her meager prize.
The younger boy's sobs filled the air, and the older one held him close, a red handprint marking his cheek.
"It's okay," the man said, stepping forward. "Your mama can't provide… she's just a filthy crack whore. Papa Bigby can, though." He grabbed the smaller boy's face. Screams erupted, louder and sharper. "Quiet now… we're gonna have some fun, you two and I."
Papa Bigby reached out as if to caress him. In a flash of fury, the older boy bit his finger off and spat it at him. The man's laughter cut off as he swung, punching the boy across the room.
"FUCK'S SAKE, YOU LITTLE SHIT STAIN! I'LL KILL YOU!" Bigby roared.
Another thug was called in, and Bigby grabbed the smaller child by his collar, lifting him as the screams grew more desperate.
But the older boy was ready. A rock, clutched in his small hand, gleamed in the dim light. One thug, smirking, stepped closer, thinking the boy harmless.
Then, in a blur of motion, the boy leapt, smashing the rock into the man's temple. The thug crumpled, eyes rolling back, silence suddenly heavy in the room.
The older boy landed, stance firm, rock raised, eyes feral. Bigby's hand froze mid-grab.
"Okay… alright. I've seen enough," Bigby said slowly, a smile spreading across his face. "Grab your brother. You little animal. We've got different plans now…"
The older boy scooped up the younger, who buried his face in his brother's chest, still crying. Bigby nudged him with his foot.
"Hurry up!" he barked.
The young boy glanced left, then right, weighing his impossible options. Seeing no path of escape, he moved forward, brother in arms. The fat man held the door open, a greedy smile tugging at his lips. The door closed behind them.
⸻
The highway stretched endlessly ahead, sunlight bouncing off the asphalt. Inside Gary's Prius, Britney Spears blared through the speakers, shaking the car with raw pop energy. Gary sang along with every ounce of conviction, as if the world were his stage.
"There's only two types of people in the world," he belted, "the ones that entertain and the ones that serve! Oh well, baby, I'm a put-on-a-show kinda girl!"
"Gary… can you not…" Lorna groaned, pressing a hand to her throbbing head.
"Bitch! You just need a little energy!" Gary insisted. "You've been in the hospital for three days! Let Britney lift your mood! Ready!?"
The chorus crashed in, but Maya quickly twisted the dial down. Silence settled.
"Wow… what a bitch," Gary muttered, under his breath.
"Now is not the time," Maya scolded.
"Maybe think about that next time you need a ride… Anyway! How're you doing, Lorn?"
"Like I've been run over by three trains," she admitted, voice faint.
"I… I don't know how to fix that," Gary said, "BUT I DO HAVE TEQUILA IN THE BACK SEAT!"
Maya groaned. "GARY!"
"…That actually does help," Lorna murmured, reaching back and grabbing the bottle. One long swallow, and her face twisted into disaster.
"Mezcal," Gary corrected proudly. "Super strong!"
"I can tell…" Lorna burped.
Maya's eyes narrowed. "Wait—when did you take those morphine pills?"
Lorna's gaze drifted, distant. "I'll be fin—"
And that was all. She slumped back, passed out, upright yet completely unconscious.
The cityscape blurred past as they neared the apartment.
"How the fuck are we gonna get her inside?" Maya muttered.
"I… do not know," Gary admitted, eyes flicking between the road and the limp figure in the seat.
Hours of struggle later, Lorna was finally laid on the couch. Gary shrugged.
"You can get her into bed if you want. I'm taking a nap."
Maya sank beside her, caressing her face for a moment before exhaustion pulled her under.
Evening settled. Around seven, Lorna stirred, eyes tilting toward Maya, offering a small, soft smile before sinking back into sleep. The apartment felt peaceful, quiet against the backdrop of chaos outside.