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Chapter Four: Buried Voices, Dim Rooms
Last Updated:
2025-05-25 12:12:16
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Broken Wings Chapter Thirteen: Not Alone.
The room was dim, lit only by the amber flicker of a streetlamp outside the window. A fan hummed weakly in the corner. Raven lay curled beneath a threadbare blanket on the couch, one arm draped over her eyes, her breath steady in sleep.The door slammed.She jolted upright, heart pounding against her ribs—confused, disoriented.Riko stood in the doorway, chest heaving, soaked in rain and rage. His jacket hit the floor like a warning. Boots stomped across the room.“Riko—?” Her voice was groggy, thick with sleep. “What… you came back?”He didn’t answer.His hand yanked the blanket off her, exposing the tank top and shorts she wore to sleep. She blinked, shielding her eyes as he flipped on the overhead light.“Who the fuck was he?” Riko’s voice was low—dangerous.She stared up at him, confused. “What are you—?”“The guy. At the club. The one you smiled at like he was yours.”Her stomach dropped. “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about. I wasn’t—”“Don’t play dumb with me, Raven.” His
Broken Wings Chapter Twelve: Buried in Ash
A few hours earlier.The sky was still black, but dawn teased at the edges. Fog clung to the ground like a secret. The barn’s floodlights cast long shadows over cracked dirt and rusting fences.A black van idled beside the farmhouse. The engine purred low. Tinted windows. No plates.Inside the barn, girls stood in a silent line—hoods over their heads, hands zip-tied in front. Some trembled. Most were quiet. Trained into obedience or broken into it.No one noticed when one of the girls let her wristband slip to the ground, then stepped on it to hide it.Riko lit a cigarette, pacing in front of them. Calm. Cold. In control.Milo stood at the house doors, radio clipped to his shoulder, watching the road.Ozzy was in the back, checking each girl—rough hands, blank face.Riko, quietly: “No crying. No noise. Anyone pisses themselves, you ride in the trunk.”He exhaled smoke through his nose, watching it curl into the cold air.Riko, to Milo: “That route you checked—it clean?”Milo, without
Broken Wings Chapter Eleven: Watching
The abandoned Shadowland Amusement Park looked like a forgotten skeleton under the moonlight—its rusted rollercoaster tracks curled into the sky like broken ribs, and the ticket booth stood half-collapsed near the gates. Weeds cracked through the asphalt of the empty parking lot, reclaiming the space in crooked green veins. Officer Tyler Beckett gripped the steering wheel of his hatchback, heart hammering as he stared at the lone vehicle parked under a broken lamppost—a black SUV with tinted windows, engine idling like it was holding its breath. He checked his watch. 1:13 AM. He was already late. Muttering a curse, Beckett shoved open the door and stepped out, the wind tugging at his jacket. He crossed the lot quickly, gravel crunching beneath his boots, and opened the passenger door without knocking. Luis Vargas sat in the driver’s seat, face partially lit by the dashboard glow. He didn’t look at Beckett as the door shut behind him. “You made me wait,” Luis said—tone mild but
Broken Wings Chapter Ten: Solid Evidence
The clock read 2:47 a.m., but Reyes hadn’t looked at it in hours. The station was quiet now, most of the lights dimmed. Just the hum of the vending machine, the occasional radio chatter, and the scratch of his pen.Four manila folders lay open across his desk like a broken deck of cards:• Eric “Riko” Perez – Talent Manager at Red Velvet. Squeaky clean on paper—too clean for someone pulling strings behind the scenes.• Oswald “Ozzy” Navarro – The enforcer. History of violence, known to vanish when things get hot.• Luis Vargas – The watcher. Always near the VIP section, always listening. Never touches, never talks—but nothing escapes him.• Emilio “Milo” Santos – The coordinator. Oversees security operations, filters who gets access.“Talent manager?” Reyes muttered, tapping his pen against the notepad. “More like a handler.”His eyes scanned the same pages for the third time, hunting for cracks in the façade.Riko funneled his income through Dusktide Holdings—a shell corp that “owned
Broken Wings Chapter Nine: Deceit
Laughter and perfume fill the air. The girls are lounging after their shifts, removing makeup and swapping stories. The curtain pulls back and Dollface skips inside, cheeks flushed.Dollface, grinning: “He said I did good! Like… really good.”Mama G follows her inside. “Good? Baby, Riko actually smiled when you danced. That man’s face usually has two expressions — pissed or bored.”The room breaks into laughter and light applause. Cherry swings a leg off the vanity table and smirks, her eyes flicking between Dollface and Raven.“Uh-oh, looks like someone’s giving our star girl a run for her money. Careful, Raven — he might trade you in for the newer model. New legs, new face — fresh meat always gets the best cuts.”Raven stiffens, forces a tight smile. “It’s not a competition.”Ivy, mock gasp: “Is someone jealous?”Dollface, teasing and sweet: “If I become his favorite, promise you won’t hate me?”Raven suddenly stands, her voice sharper than anyone expects.“Don’t be stupid.”The roo
Broken Wings Chapter Eight: Bambie
The dressing room door creaked open, cutting through the low thrum of chatter and hair dryers. Mama G stepped in, her thick heels clacking against the tile.“Alright, listen up,” she said, voice sharp and tired. “We got fresh blood.”She stepped aside, revealing a girl standing stiff behind her. Petite. Pale. Light blond hair/ Big blue eyes, scared like a deer in headlights. She was wrapped in a thrift coat that didn’t fit her and clutched a torn duffel bag like it held her whole life. Which, maybe, it did.“This is Bambi,” Mama G said dryly. “And no, that ain’t her real name, but it’s the one we are using for now. She’s twenty-two. Got papers to prove it.” Her eyes flicked over to Cherry, daring anyone to question it.Bambi didn’t speak. She just looked around the room, eyes darting from face to face—Cherry lounging in fishnets, Domina picking glitter out of her cleavage, Ivy hunched by the mirror reapplying eyeliner with shaky hands. It was a circus of mascara and exhaustion.Cherry
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