30

Nico's point of View - Age 18

It was noon, just Like the old man said.

I stood in front of the garage, the sun burning into the leather of my jacket, but the real heat? it was in my chest.

"Don't fuck this up," my father's voice echoed in my mind like a cracked record. The old bastard didn't even look me in the eye when he gave me the job.He slid the file towards me like I was some disposable grunt, not his only son.

The mission: Take out a snitch. some small time runner from a rival crew that's been feeding the police Intel. "The one in the green bomber jacket," the file haf said.

"He'll be at the warehouse near the southern tracks."

That was it. No backup. No second chances.

The file should've said make sure it's the right guy.

I revved the engine of my bike and took off, letting the sound Drown out everything else the guilt, the ache, the silence between me and Noelle.

She used to ride with me. we were inseparable. But now? she trained day and night for my father, her cold eyes looking through me like I was invisible.

Maybe I was.

I parked the bike behind a stack of crates and moved towards the warehouse, keeping low, keeping quiet.

And then I saw him or who I thought was him.

Green bomber jacket. slim build. Talking to someone, laughing. Too relaxed to be someone expecting a bullet to the chest.

But my hands were already on the silencer. My heart pounding like a fucking drum.

"I'm doing this for you, old man," I muttered, even though it was a lie. I wasn't doing it for him. I was doing it to prove I wasn't a waste of space.

I lined up the shot. The guy had turned, just a little.

His face. I never saw it clearly. just the jacket.

Then

Bang.

one shot.

one scream.

chaos.

I took off before I could think. Tires screeching, heart in my throat. I didn't see the people rushing to the guy. Didn't stay long enough to see the blood or hear the cries.

I just ran.

Back at the house, I Locked myself in my room. sweating. shaking.

I didn't sleep for days. My father didn't ask any questions. He just clapped me on the back and said. "Good job."

But something didn't feel right.

Week later, I overheard one of the guards talking.

"They shot the wrong guy. Kid wasn't even involved. Just a high schooler wearing a similar jacket."

I threw up in the alley that day. I couldn't breathe.

I never asked the name of the boy.

I couldn't.

Not until much later.

Not until I met her.

Missy.

The girl with the gentle laugh and the haunted eyes. The girl who made my heart ache for something I never thought I deserved.

The girl whose brother I shot.

And she doesn't know.

Yet.

I spent the next few hours riding. Didn't matter where. I just needed the wind in my face. I needed the numbness to creep in.

When I finally returned home, it was like walking into a graveyard.

The house was quiet. Noelle wasn't there. she was proudly training or doing one of father's errands.

Father was in his office, but I knew he knew. The silence from his end was louder than yelling.

I heard from one of the guards. "He's looking for you."

I nodded, said nothing. just walked to my room and shut the door.

That night, I packed.

Every Dollar I'd earned from racing, the illegal underground matches, the gambling rings went into my backpack.

My clothes, a few photos of my mom from better times and a single notebook with sketches Noelle and I used to draw when we were little.

I left a note on my bed:

"I'm not coming back. Don't look for me. You trained me to survive, and that's what I'm going to do." -Nico.

I walked down the hallway, past the weapon room, past Noelle's door.

Did she even care anymore?

I didn't know.

I opened the garage, hopped on my matte-black Ducati, and drove..

Away from the mansion.

Away from the name I never chose.

Three hours later, I was somewhere outside the City, engine humming under me like a pulse.

That's when I saw him- Alexander.

At the time, I didn't know his name. He was parked on the side of the road leaning against a blacked- out - G- Wagon, cigarettes in hand, Jack flapping In the wind.

"You running too?" He asked me without looking.

I didn't respond. just stared.

He turned his head slightly, smirked.

"I can always spot another stray."

I exhaled, parked beside him.

"Yeah. you could say that ."

we didn't talk about details. Not that night..

We just sat, smoked, and watched the stars through the fog.

He told me about the school about a fresh start. somewhere no one asked questions.

I didn't trust him. But I had nothing else.

so I followed him.

That was the beginning of something different. something I didn't expect. He introduced me to his crew. Gave me a bed.

Taught me how to move through this new life without looking over my shoulder every two seconds.

All I knew was that I fucked up a mission, ran for my life, and somehow found a brother when I least expected it.

Funny how life works.

I didn't know back then that my past would come back, wearing a pink bow and the softest smile I'd ever seen.

But that.. that was a story for another day.