Chapter 8: The Unraveling
Flip hadn't said a word since he walked in.
He didn't dap anyone up. Didn't even nod. Just slid into the booth in the back, pulled his hood low, and kept his head down like maybe the floor had answers.
Maddox noticed. He always did.
He stood near the counter, sipping black coffee that tasted like rust and regret, watching Flip pretend he wasn't shaking.
Leg bouncing.
Fingers tapping the table.
Eyes darting like he owed every shadow money.
The kid looked wrecked.
Not tired—wrecked.
Maddox gave it ten minutes. Maybe Flip would talk on his own.
He didn't.
"Something happen?" Maddox finally asked, like it was casual.
Flip jumped like he hadn't heard anyone speak all day.
"Huh?"
"You're acting like you saw a ghost."
Flip licked his lips. Didn't answer right away.
Behind them, Rico and Javi were arguing over a playlist, volume low. No one else paid attention. Yet.
Maddox lowered his cup. "If you got something to say, say it."
Flip opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Then finally, "Someone left a phone in my backpack."
Maddox didn't blink.
Flip kept going. "Burner. Nothing special. But it had a voicemail. Just breathing at first. Then…"
He swallowed.
"Then someone said, real quiet—'You want to impress Ace? Good. Then tell him I'm not hiding. I'm hunting.'"
The room didn't go silent because it was already quiet.
But something shifted.
Maddox said nothing.
Flip looked around like he expected someone to laugh. No one did.
"And there was a photo," Flip added, voice cracking. "In my locker. Me. Walking home. Two days ago. Same hoodie. Same angle."
His hands were shaking now, just a little.
"Man, who's doing this? Who the hell even can do that?"
Rico looked up. Javi stopped scrolling.
Maddox stepped away from the counter. Took his time.
"You told anyone else?"
Flip shook his head too fast. "No. No way. Didn't know who to tell."
"You tell Ace?"
"No!" Flip's voice shot up. He looked toward the back room like Ace might've heard. "No, I swear. I didn't— I'm not stupid."
Maddox stared at him for a long second. Then nodded. "Good."
Flip blinked. "Good?"
"You think Ace hears that and sits you down for a heart-to-heart?" Maddox said, voice flat. "He'll flip the whole place. Shake pockets, phones, bags. Start asking who you been talking to. Who knows what."
Flip went quiet again.
"You think this is someone on the outside?" Maddox asked.
"I don't know. I don't know anything anymore."
"You're not scared someone's watching," Maddox said. "You're scared they already got in."
Flip didn't deny it.
Maddox leaned in.
"They didn't come for you," he said. "They used you. You're the loud one. The leaky one. You're the warning shot."
Flip was breathing fast now, like he'd been running.
Maddox straightened up.
"Keep your head down. Don't mention it to anyone else. Not yet."
"But—"
"If you break first," Maddox said, "the rest of this place goes with you."
He grabbed his coat, left the half-full coffee cup behind, and walked out.
---
Outside, the cold hit different.
Maddox lit a cigarette with a shaky hand he didn't let anyone see.
The wind was cutting, smelled like rain and old asphalt.
He sat in his car. Didn't turn the engine on.
Just opened the glovebox.
The envelope was still there. Folded. Untouched.
He stared at it for a long time.
The street was quiet, but it felt like the city was watching.
He didn't know who was playing this game.
But whoever they were?
They were playing to win.
Tone didn't even notice it at first.
He was behind the counter, messing with the coin machine again. The drawer stuck sometimes, and Maddox hated it when things looked sloppy. He tugged it open, more out of habit than anything.
Two envelopes.
He froze.
There were supposed to be three.
He counted again. Still two.
Tone stood there, his fingers hanging over the drawer like they were waiting for something else to appear.
He didn't touch anything.
Didn't say anything either.
Just stared.
His mouth felt dry.
---
By the time Maddox got there, Tone was pacing behind the desk, chewing the inside of his cheek like he could bite the worry out.
"I locked it. I always lock it," he said the second Maddox stepped through the door. "Last night. Triple-checked."
Maddox didn't say anything. Just walked around him and crouched by the drawer.
Two envelopes. Neat. Untouched.
He looked around the desk. Floor. Hinge screws. Nothing out of place.
Then he spotted it. Tucked in the corner between the drawer and the wall. A sliver of white.
He slid it out.
A card.
Just one line printed clean across the front.
Consulting Fee. —A
He stared at it for a long time. Didn't say a word.
Tone leaned closer. "Who's A?"
Maddox didn't answer.
He just slipped the card into his coat and stood up.
"Keep the front closed," he said. "Don't say anything to anyone."
---
The shop was quiet when Maddox walked in. Not the usual buzz. Javi was thumbing through his phone like he was pretending to not listen. Rico leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching.
Ace was already in the back. Maddox stepped in, dropped the envelopes on the table.
And the card.
Ace didn't speak at first. Just stared at it. Smoke drifting from the cigarette in his hand.
No one interrupted.
Finally, he said, "Only thing missing?"
"Eight-sixty, give or take."
"No mess?"
"Nope. Clean."
Ace picked up the card. Turned it once. Set it back down.
"This is disrespect," he said. "Sharp disrespect. The kind that doesn't come from panic—it comes from confidence."
He nodded at the card.
"This is someone saying they know where we keep our blood—and they can bleed us whenever they feel like it."
Silence.
Rico looked over, like he was about to ask something. Ace didn't give him the chance.
"I want the locks redone by tonight," he said. "All of them. Routes paired up. No one moves solo. And I want whoever left this found."
Then, softer.
"If someone in this crew knew something and sat on it…"
He looked up.
"I'll make the lesson permanent."
No shouting. No door slamming.
Just quiet orders and a cold promise.
And then Ace disappeared into the back room.
Javi didn't expect anything strange. Not this early in the day. Cold air, dead streets, the city still stretching its limbs. He had a half-eaten sandwich in his coat pocket and his headphones tucked into his collar, not even playing music. Just habit.
He turned onto River and 88th, head down, expecting the same cracked sidewalk, the same rusted stop sign, the same corner they'd claimed years ago.
But something stopped him cold.
Right there, sprayed across the pavement in front of their wall—a red X.
Big. Clean. Centered like it had been measured with a ruler.
It didn't look like graffiti. No curves. No letters. Just an X. Sharp. Bright against the dull grey of the concrete.
He blinked. Took a step closer.
Not a tag. Not a name.
A statement.
He crouched and ran his fingers near the edge of the paint.
Still damp.
Still new.
Someone had done this recently. Early morning, probably just before sunrise. In the quiet hour. When most of the city was still asleep.
And they hadn't just done it anywhere.
They did it here.
---
By the time Rico showed up with Marcus and Lenny, Javi had stopped pacing. He was just standing there, staring down at the X like it had started speaking in tongues.
"Could've been some dumbass kid," Marcus muttered, half-looking, half-ignoring. "Taggin' for laughs. Probably thinks it's funny to poke the bear."
Rico squatted down to look closer. "Nah. Not a kid."
He pointed to the way the lines were spaced, too perfect for freehand.
"Used a stencil," he said.
Lenny frowned. "That ain't no turf thing."
Javi shook his head. "It's a warning."
"From who?"
No one had an answer.
They just stood there, tension building, while the red paint dried right under their feet.
---
Back at the shop, the room was cold. Not from the temperature. From the silence.
Rico slid the printed photo across the counter to Maddox. It looked worse in black and white. More surgical. More intentional.
"You want us to paint it?" Rico asked.
Maddox stared at the photo for a few seconds. Then shook his head.
"Not yet."
Rico blinked. "Leave it?"
"Yeah. Let Ace see it first."
---
In the back office, Ace was lighting a cigarette when Maddox walked in. The photo hit the desk with a soft slap.
Ace stared at it.
Didn't blink. Didn't speak.
The red X glared back at him through ink and paper.
He picked it up. Turned it sideways. Back again.
Then he reached for the old card Maddox had brought him a few days ago—the one they found in the stash drawer.
Consulting Fee. —A
He tapped the edge of the card on the table. Once. Twice.
Then stopped.
"I've got a feeling," he said, voice low.
Maddox waited.
Ace looked up at him.
"That kid. The quiet one."
Maddox's brow twitched. "The one who vanished after Zeke folded?"
Ace nodded slowly. "Name's Aria, right?"
"Yeah."
"He's too calm. Too clean. Doesn't posture. Doesn't bark. Doesn't belong. But still here."
Ace stared back down at the photo.
"Feels like him."
Maddox didn't respond.
Ace waved the cigarette in the air like he was drawing the X himself.
"This ain't about turf," he muttered. "This is personal. This is someone showing me they're willing to eat around the edges until there's nothing left."
He looked up again, sharper now.
"Find out where that kid's been."
---
Maddox didn't argue.
He left the office without a word, stepped into the street, and lit a cigarette of his own.
He leaned on the side of the shop, eyes on the corner, mind spinning. Aria. It wasn't the first time the name came up in his head lately.
And now?
Now it was sticking.
He pulled out his phone. Opened his notes. Started jotting down places Aria had been spotted, days he didn't show up, things Zeke had said before he vanished.
He wasn't ready to tell Ace everything.
Not yet.
But he was going to find out for himself.
---
(Aria's POV)
Aria knew he was being followed a block before the turn. It wasn't loud. No rushed footsteps, no fumbling in shadows. Just that shift in air. That kind of silence that wanted to stay quiet.
He didn't turn around. Just kept walking. Slow, steady, letting the cold press into his shoulders.
The alley near the old auto shop looked the same as always—graffiti, busted bin, half a rat darting under cardboard.
He stepped into it anyway.
Stopped just past the dumpster. Hands in his pockets. Looked up at the fading sky and let out a breath.
"Look, if you're here to stab me, at least let me eat something first," he said. "I'm running on one granola bar and spite."
No laugh. Just a pause.
Then a voice behind him. Low. Familiar.
"You always talk like that when someone's tailing you?"
Aria turned, casual, like he had all the time in the world.
"Mmm," he said. "Honestly, I was kind of hoping it'd be someone smaller."
Maddox stepped out from the shadow near the wall, hood up, face unreadable.
"You left your mark," he said. "You wanted attention. You got it."
Aria lifted both hands halfway in mock surrender. "To be fair, I was aiming for 'mild concern.' I didn't expect full-on existential crisis."
Maddox didn't smile. But his jaw twitched. Like the corner of something wanted to break through.
"Ace is furious."
"Figured," Aria said. "Red's not exactly a calming color."
They stood there for a second. Street quiet behind them, wind rattling a loose sign on the building above.
"You know he won't let this slide," Maddox said.
"I'm counting on it."
"He'll send people."
"Let him."
"Why?"
Aria blinked. "Because the louder he gets, the more people see what he is."
Maddox took a breath. "And what are you?"
"Proof that one person's enough."
No heat behind the words. No fire.
Just the kind of tired that settles when you're past done pretending.
---
Maddox stared for a second too long. Aria didn't flinch.
"I'm not here to fight you," Aria said. "I'm here to ask."
That caught Maddox off guard, just a little.
Aria stepped forward, slow. No threat in his posture. Just quiet certainty.
"You don't owe him," he said. "You've been holding that whole thing together longer than he even realizes. You see the cracks. You know what's coming."
"You think you can stop it?"
"I think it's already falling. I just nudged it."
Maddox crossed his arms. "You want me to walk away from everything."
"No," Aria said. "I want you to walk toward something that doesn't rot from the inside."
A pause.
Then, dryly: "I mean, look at me. Do I look like I could run a gang?"
That almost got a grin. Maddox just shook his head.
"Exactly. Which means if I'm getting this far, Ace is already bleeding out."
---
Maddox didn't move. Didn't say yes. But he didn't walk away either.
"You serious?"
"Unfortunately."
"You want backup?"
"I want someone who doesn't flinch," Aria said. "Someone who doesn't pretend the fire's fine just because it's been burning a while."
Another beat.
"You really think you can do this?"
Aria tilted his head. "Not even a little. But I'm doing it anyway."
Maddox studied him for a moment.
Then: "Prove it first."
Aria blinked. "Seriously?"
"You want me to believe you can break him? Break something that hurts. His grip. His cash. His ego. Make him sweat. Then we'll talk."
Aria rubbed a hand over his face. "Okay. Sure. Yeah. Big move. Cool. Love that for me."
Maddox turned to leave.
"You know how this ends, right?" he said without looking back.
"Probably with me in a dumpster."
Maddox paused. Just for a second.
Then he was gone.
---
Aria stood there in the alley alone.
Looked up at the sky.
"Great," he muttered. "Now I gotta get impressive."
He kicked the dumpster lightly.
"Why couldn't I have just gotten laser vision?"