Mafia’s Hidden Flame

Avery’s legs pumped furiously against the pedals, her breath clouding in the crisp night air.

The scent of greasy pizza clung to her clothes, lingering like a memory of a life she was barely holding onto.

The streets of the neighborhood were dead silent, too quiet for comfort. She hated silence—it reminded her of waiting for things she never asked for.

The bike suddenly stuttered and choked.

“Not now… come on!” she hissed, slamming a fist against the handlebars.

Dead. Again.

Her boots scraped the asphalt as she dismounted, muttering curses under her breath. She had fixed this hunk of junk yesterday—personally. Same chain, same issue.

Life had a way of falling apart just when you thought you had a grip on it.

Avery yanked off her helmet, letting her choppy, short hair fall messily around her face. The night was cold, streetlights flickering above like dying stars.

She tucked her hands into her leather jacket and began walking, just a few blocks from home. Her boots echoed loudly in the alley she cut through, but she didn’t flinch.

Fear wasn’t part of her DNA.

She stopped when she noticed a rough, hand-painted sign nailed to a flickering lamppost:

DO NOT PASS. NO EXCEPTIONS.

Avery scoffed. “Who the hell writes this crap?”

She rolled her eyes and stepped past it. Detouring would mean another thirty minutes through potholes and stray dog central.

Not happening.

But as she moved into the narrow alley behind an unfinished construction site, a figure emerged from the shadows.

Tall. Built. Wrapped head-to-toe in black—hoodie, combat boots, gloves.

The sharp scent of cigarettes hit her like a slap, thick in the air. He dropped the burning stub to the ground and crushed it beneath his boot, eyes never leaving her.

“Go back,” he said, voice deep and coarse, each word rumbling like distant thunder.

Avery didn’t pause. She tilted her head, smirking defiantly. “Who the hell are you to give orders? Get lost.”

He didn’t move. His silence was louder than any threat. His gaze was piercing, his presence consuming. He stepped closer.

She raised her fists.

“Last warning,” he said quietly.

“Try me,” she spat.

His punch came fast—but not serious. Like he was testing her. She dodged it cleanly and swung back, but he caught her wrist mid-air. His grip was cold steel, twisting until her knuckles cracked.

A wince escaped her lips, but she didn’t falter. She threw a sharp kick between his legs. It landed.

He stumbled back a step, grunting. Not in pain—more like disbelief.

His head tilted slightly. His expression darkened.

“No more games.”

His hand closed around her throat like a clamp, cold and sure, pressing until the edges of her vision began to dim.

“Apologize,” he said, breath laced with smoke, voice a deadly whisper.

Avery’s glare burned brighter. She gasped, teeth gritted, and growled through clenched teeth:

“Apologize... my foot, Mr. Dickface.”

“Avery!” a familiar voice rang out down the street.

“AVERY!”

The stranger’s grip loosened.

Colt’s voice cut through the tension like a knife, and just like that, the man released her. In a blink, he melted back into the shadows, vanishing like mist.

Colt skidded to her side, panting. “What the hell? What happened? Who was that?! Did he touch you?! Did you fight?!”

Avery bent to collect her helmet and gloves, ignoring the panic in Colt’s voice. Something caught her eye—a silver chain glinting on the ground. She picked it up. A necklace. The stranger’s?

She pocketed it before Colt could see. “Just some creep,” she muttered.

Colt raised a brow. “You keeping his jewelry now?”

“If I feel like it,” she snapped, already walking.

They reached her house in silence. But something was off.

Her family was waiting.

Her father sat stiffly in his chair, face unreadable. Her mother hovered nearby, eyes bloodshot and pleading.

Austin looked angry, fists clenched, while Lily—the devil in lipstick—stood with a smirk that made Avery’s skin crawl.

Colt stepped back instinctively. The atmosphere screamed trouble.

Avery tossed her gloves onto the table. “What, did someone die?”

Lily grinned. “You’re getting married tomorrow.”

Avery blinked. “Huh?”

“To Sergei Kuznetsov,” Lily added sweetly.

Avery laughed. It came out too loud, too sharp. “This is a joke, right?”

The silence killed her laughter.

Her mother stepped forward. “It’s true, Avery.”

Her voice dropped, thick with emotion. “It’s the only way… he’ll erase our debts. All of them.”

Avery stared, disbelief hardening into fury. “You’re selling me?”

"What the hell?!" Avery's voice trembled with rage, her fists clenched as she stared at the people who betrayed her.

"You're selling me off to some old, wrinkled creep?" she spat.

Her mother flinched. "Avery, please… it’s the only way to clear the debt."

Her father’s voice thundered. "You will marry Sergei Kuznetsov. End of story."

She stormed into her room, rage building like a storm. Glass shattered, drawers flew open. Her world was being stolen from her.

And she was expected to say thank you?

Lily waltzed in like a princess. “Better get your beauty sleep, Bride-to-be. Can’t go to your wedding with bags under your eyes.”

“Get out,” Avery growled.

Lily’s grin widened. “You should be grateful. Sergei’s loaded. You get the house, the jewelry, and... his saggy flesh. Yum.”

That did it.

Avery lunged. Her fist collided with Lily’s smug face. Blood sprayed.

Lily laughed.

“You’ve always been the animal,” Lily whispered through bloody lips.

Their mother burst in and shoved Avery back, eyes locking on Lily’s theatrics.

“You monster!” she yelled and slapped Avery—twice.

Avery’s world tilted.

“I’m done,” she whispered, voice shaking. “You chose her. You always chose her.”

She stormed out, tears threatening but refusing to fall.

On the porch steps, she sank into the cold cement. A small, warm hand touched her knee.

Austin.

He held out a cup of hot chocolate. His big brown eyes were watery, his voice small.

“I wanted to stop it... but I’m just a kid.”

She pulled him into a tight hug.

“When I grow up,” he whispered, “I’ll protect you. I’ll destroy all the Russian bad guys.”

Avery laughed through her tears. “You’re my little warrior.”

“Promise me,” Austin begged. “Promise me you’ll escape. Promise you’ll come back.”

“I promise,” she whispered. “No matter what, Sergei Kuznetsov will never own me.”

That night, she barely slept. The hours crawled.

When dawn crept through the windows, it came with whispers.

“They’re here,” Austin hissed outside her door.

Her mother burst in with a dress box. Inside: a blood-red evening gown, shimmering like betrayal.

“I spent the last of my money,” her mother said proudly. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

Avery picked it up, studied it… and dropped it into the trash.

“What are you doing?!”

“You’re not my mother anymore,” Avery said coldly.

“You’re ungrateful!” her mother screamed. “Do you know how much money—”

“I’d rather die than wear that thing to marry a monster,” Avery snapped and slammed the bathroom door.

When she emerged, she was a vision of rebellion—black leather jacket, ripped jeans, messy hair, piercings glinting under the light.

Her mother gasped. Her father glowered. Lily gagged theatrically.

Avery didn’t care. She was fire.

Colt met her outside. His eyes were red. He hugged her tightly.

“Don’t go,” he whispered.

Avery forced a grin. “Man up, Colt.”

Then Austin ran to her, latching onto her jeans.

“I love you,” he said, voice trembling.

Avery knelt, pulling him close. “I love you more.”

“You’ll come back, right?”

Her heart clenched.

“I’ll try.”

Her father’s voice boomed from the doorway. “No trouble. Do you hear me? You’re on your own now.”

She turned away, smirking at the guards who eyed her outfit with judgment.

Let them stare.

She waved one last time to her brother, her home, her past.

And stepped into the black car that would carry her straight into the lion’s den.