VANTABLACK VOWS

"What did you say to me?" Kyoline’s voice was like ice, thin and sharp enough to draw blood.

Her hands stopped mid-polish over the martini glass, the squeak of the rag echoing in the sudden hollow silence of the bar. The ambient noise of the neon-soaked room faltered, dropping away as if the world had lost its soundtrack.

Cat M’Noo didn’t so much as blink. She stepped into the light of the bar, her heels clicking a rhythmic, arrogant tattoo against the sticky floorboards. Her perfume was a cloying, expensive floral that didn't belong in a place like this. "I said the whole district knows what your mother is," Cat drawled, her red lips curving into a smug, venomous line. "She’s at that dive on the south strip. And she isn’t just answering phones, sweetheart. She’s the one entertaining the high-rollers while you play bartender."

A man at the end of the bar coughed into his drink, looking away. Lydia, holding a tray of bottles, froze. A single glass slipped from her hand, shattering against the floor in a spray of crystal shards. The silence that followed was suffocating.

"Cat, shut your mouth," Lydia snapped, her voice like a whip-crack.

"No," Cat said, her eyes locked on Kyoline with predatory glee. "She should hear it. Everyone knows her father ran jobs for the wrong crews until he got himself buried. We know her mother sells herself to pay the debts he left behind. And we all know you’re following right in their footsteps."

Kyoline’s nails dug into her palms until she felt the skin break. She used the sting of the pain to keep herself rooted. If she moved, she would vault over the counter and smash Cat’s painted face into the mahogany.

"My mother had a heart attack," Kyoline said, her voice flat, devoid of the rage screaming in her head. "She works the front desk. She takes calls. That’s all she does."

Cat’s laugh was high and jarring. "The front desk doesn’t cover private ward bills, darling. Not in this city. Speaking of bills, rumor says you’ve been running packages for Tenz Jersey. Dangerous ones. The kind that get girls found floating face-down in the harbor."

The name Tenz sucked the oxygen out of the room. He wasn't a man spoken of in public. He was the shadow that owned the district.

"I work here. That’s it," Kyoline lied, her heart hammering against her ribs.

From the shadows at the end of the bar, a slow, rhythmic clap broke the tension. Marco pushed away from his stool, his black leather jacket creaking as he sauntered closer. His eyes glittered with a mean, hungry light. "That’s a sweet story, Kyoline. But here’s the problem." He reached into his pocket and tossed something onto the bar top.

It landed with a dull, sickening clink. Kyoline’s breath hitched.

It was her keychain—a chipped blue rabbit’s foot her little sister had made for her. She had lost it during the frantic scramble over the back fence during the courier run. The rabbit’s foot felt like a smoking gun in front of her.

"I believe this is yours," Marco said, leaning in until Kyoline could smell the sour tang of whiskey on his breath. "I picked it up right after you ducked into that alley with the gear. Funny place for a bartender to be at midnight."

"You’ve been following me?" Kyoline whispered.

"I follow opportunity," Marco countered, his smirk widening. "And right now, you’re a big one. You’re sloppy, you’re scared, and scared people make mistakes I can profit from."

A stool scraped back hard. Lydia stepped between them, her jaw set. "Back off, Marco. You’re barred. Get out."

Marco smirked at Lydia but kept his predatory gaze on Kyoline. "You hear Tenz cut her loose yet? Word on the street is she’s burned. No more jobs. No more protection. She’s a free target now."

Kyoline felt the blood drain from her face. Ice water seemed to replace the marrow in her bones. Before she could respond, the phone behind the counter began to ring—a shrill, jarring sound that made her flinch. Lydia reached for it, but Kyoline snatched the receiver first, desperate to stop the noise.

"Kyoline?" Her mother’s voice was thin, trembling so hard it was barely a whisper.

"Mom? What’s wrong?"

"I got a call," her mother whispered, sounding as though someone was standing right over her. "A man... he said you’ve been causing trouble. He said you embarrassed Mr. Jersey. And then he told me to remember what happened to your father."

Kyoline gripped the phone so hard the plastic groaned. "Who was he? Did he give a name?"

"I don't know. He hung up." Her mother let out a jagged breath. "Kyoline, are you in danger?"

Kyoline’s throat closed up. The lie died in her mouth. "I’ll fix it, Mom. Just stay inside. I’ll handle it."

"No," her mother said, her voice suddenly fierce with terror. "You come home. Now. If they know where I work, they know our door. If they—"

A sharp click. The line went dead.

"Mom? Mom!" Kyoline shouted into the receiver. Nothing but dial tone. She set the phone down, her pulse thudding in her ears like a drum.

"You okay?" Lydia asked, her voice low and worried.

"No," Kyoline said, her voice raw. "I think... I think they just put a target on my family."

"Then you’re done for the night. Go. I’ll cover the floor," Lydia said.

Kyoline shook her head, her eyes flicking to the door. "If I leave, they’ll follow. They’re already waiting." Marco was leaning against the doorframe, grinning. Cat was lounging at a table, sipping her drink like she was watching a play.

Lydia glanced between the two vultures and then back at Kyoline. She lowered her voice to a whisper. "Back room. Now. Use the alley exit."

Kyoline didn't wait. She ducked under the counter and moved fast, her heart a frantic bird in her chest. She slipped through the narrow hallway toward the supply room, but the sudden creak of the front door stopped her cold.

Footsteps. Heavy, deliberate, and metallic. Not Marco’s boots.

"Lydia," a deep voice rumbled from the front. It was smooth, like oil over gravel, and carried a lethality that froze the air. "Tell Kyoline I need a word."

Kyoline stopped halfway to the exit. Her breath caught in her throat.

Lydia’s voice was steady, but Kyoline could hear the underlying tremor. "She’s not here. Shift ended ten minutes ago."

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

A second voice, colder and higher than the first, chimed in. "Tenz says she’s done. But I say she still owes him for the lost time. And I always collect what's owed."

Kyoline’s pulse kicked into overdrive. The hallway suddenly felt like a coffin, the air too thick to breathe. She inched toward the back exit, but a shadow stretched across the floorboards ahead of her. Someone was already outside the back door.

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

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

Her stomach dropped. She heard Lydia’s sharp intake of breath from the front, followed by the sound of a glass breaking.

Kyoline pressed herself against the wall, her mind racing through the limited possibilities. She had two choices. She could step out and face them here, in front of Marco and Cat, and hope for a miracle... or she could make a run for the narrow storage window in the nook, the one that opened onto the lower alley.

From the front, the deep voice called out again. "Tick-tock, little runner. We’re losing patience."

Kyoline took one last look toward the front bar, thinking of Lydia, thinking of the cash in the register, and then she looked at the window.

She bolted.

She lunged for the storage nook, her boots skidding on the linoleum. She scrambled up a stack of crates, her fingers clawing at the latch of the small, grime-streaked window. It groaned, resisting her, but she threw her entire weight against it.

"She’s in the nook!" a voice shouted from the hall.

The window gave way with a screech of rusted hinges. Kyoline didn't look back. She dove through the opening, her shoulders scraping against the frame, and tumbled into the damp, trash-strewn alley below.

She hit the ground hard, the air leaving her lungs in a pained wheeze, but the sound of the back door slamming open above her forced her upright.

"There she is!"

Kyoline scrambled to her feet, her legs shaking, and sprinted into the darkness of the city. Behind her, the heavy thud of boots followed, relentless and gaining. She didn't have a plan, she didn't have a weapon, and now, she didn't even have a home. All she had was the name of the man who wanted her dead and the desperate hope that she could reach her mother before the shadows did.

As she rounded the corner into the main thoroughfare, the rain began to fall, slicking the pavement and blurring the neon lights of the South Strip into a hazy, blood-red smear.