The Dark Knight

Prologue

Lucy stepped into the Luxurious Bar that evening, the dim golden light glinting off the sequins of the “special request” uniform she’d been told to wear. The scent of expensive liquor and stale smoke curled through the air as her eyes swept the crowded room.

There—at the far end—Big Joe and his shadow, Bosco, were already making their way toward her. Joe’s smirk was as wide as it was unpleasant, while Bosco’s gaze dragged lazily over her bare legs and short skirt, hungry and unashamed.

Lucy rolled her eyes, slipping into her role like an actress stepping onto a stage.

“Well, well… look who we have here, Bosco. Sweet Lucy’s arrived,” Big Joe drawled, his voice thick with mockery.

Bosco chuckled low, his stare searing into her skin. He’d always been a leech—hovering too close when she danced, touching when he thought she couldn’t stop him. In this job, saying no was more of a theory than a right. You were paid to entertain. Paid to please. Whether you wanted to or not.

“You still owe me for the last gigs,” Lucy said, planting her hands on her hips, her voice steady despite the heat in her cheeks. “Pay up, or I don’t dance.”

Joe snorted, the sound ugly. “You’ll dance for me, girl,” he said, stepping closer, his breath sour and his hand reaching.

Lucy slipped back just out of his grasp. She flicked a glance toward his table, where his loud, half-drunk friends were waiting for their show. Something in her hardened. Not tonight. Not for free. Not ever again.

Without another word, she turned on her heel and strode toward the back door.

Footsteps pounded behind her.

“You walk away from this,” Joe’s voice dropped to a cold, venomous hiss, “and you won’t live long enough to regret it.”

Lucy spun around just as he lunged—

City Center – Back Alley

The alley behind the Luxurious Bar was thick with shadows. Street gangs, self-proclaimed kings of the city’s underbelly, loitered at the edges, watching their turf. The heated exchange between Lucy and the middle-aged man drew the eye of one in particular—the gang’s leader.

Lucy, still in her skimpy school uniform, stood beneath a flickering streetlamp. Big Joe’s meaty hand groped at her. She slapped it away like an angry lion swatting a hyena, eyes darting for an escape.

Out of the darkness, a boy emerged at a dead run. He seized her hand, his grip urgent. Without a word, they bolted for the street.

“Bosco!” Joe roared after them, his face twisted with rage.

“Yes, Big Joe?” Bosco stepped into the light, the shadows peeling off him like smoke.

“We’ve got a problem,” Joe said, voice low and poisonous.

“What do you want done, Boss?” Bosco’s tone was all business.

“Have them followed. Report to me. Then… we take it from there.” Joe’s lips curled into a slow, dangerous grin.

Bosco nodded once, then whistled. Two men appeared from the darkness. Orders were exchanged in low, clipped tones before the pair slipped away into the night.

Bosco chuckled to himself and disappeared back into the bar. None of them knew that, within days, their underground empire would begin to crumble—piece by bloody piece.