Chapter 4: The Judas kiss
1168 Words
Rain soaked the city like penance.
The train yard was a skeleton of steel and rust, creaking under the weight of time and secrets. Ari huddled beside Kellan in the hollow of an abandoned freight car, wrapped in an old army blanket Rosa had packed before the shootout. Her skin still carried the scent of gunpowder, and her hands wouldn't stop shaking—not from fear, but from fury.
Lucien had lied. Her whole life had been a script written by a man who murdered her real father and wore fatherhood like a costume. Now she was awake—and she was angry.
Kellan sat with his back against the metal wall, flashlight between his teeth, working the lock on the duffel bag. His hands were steady, methodical. Years in the street taught him that panic got you killed. But Ari saw the storm in his eyes.
“You haven’t said a word since we left Rosa,” she murmured.
He didn’t look up. “Because I don’t trust the silence.”
“Do you think she’s alive?”
“I don’t know.”
The bag clicked open. Inside: a wad of cash, two burner phones, a switchblade, and a sealed envelope marked CONTACT: J.S. in Rosa’s sharp cursive.
“What’s J.S.?” Ari asked.
Kellan held the envelope like it might explode. “Someone I never wanted to see again.”
Before Ari could press further, a voice echoed from outside.
“Always knew you’d come crawling back, Reyes.”
Ari’s spine stiffened.
Kellan stood slowly, stepping outside with the flashlight raised like a weapon. A shadow emerged from behind a freight stack—lean, cigarette in hand, cocky smile barely visible beneath the brim of a soaked ball cap.
“Jax,” Kellan muttered. “Didn’t think you were still breathing.”
“Didn’t think you were still playing house with senator’s daughters,” Jax shot back. “Guess we’re both full of surprises.”
Ari stepped into the open, instinctively close to Kellan. “You know him?”
“Too well,” Kellan said.
“Don’t worry, princess,” Jax said, tossing the cigarette. “I’m not here to kill you. Not unless the price is really good.”
Kellan tensed. “Why are you here?”
“I got Rosa’s message. Said it was urgent. Said you needed someone who knew how to start fires without getting burned.” Jax pulled a flash drive from his jacket. “She said if anything happened to her, you’d need this.”
Kellan took it, suspicion thick in his voice. “What’s on it?”
“Insurance. The kind that gets politicians disappeared.”
Ari narrowed her eyes. “Why would you help us?”
“Because Lucien tried to bury me too,” Jax replied. “Ten years ago. I ran jobs for his campaign. Got close to something I shouldn’t have. Next thing I know, I’m in a cell with no record of my arrest. I escaped, changed names, and started feeding intel to people who actually want him gone.”
Ari and Kellan exchanged a look. Trust wasn’t cheap. But they were running out of options.
“We have files too,” Ari said. “Rosa gave us enough to bring down Lucien and Damon both.”
“Then we need to move fast,” Jax said. “There’s someone who can help. She runs a digital leak chain—kind of a dark web oracle. Name’s Nova. If you get the files to her, she’ll make sure the whole damn world sees them.”
Ari nodded. “Where is she?”
Jax grinned. “Not far. But there’s a catch.”
“Always is,” Kellan muttered.
“She’s on the move. She knows she’s being hunted. We’ll have to intercept her at an underground poker game tonight. High-stakes, dirty money, hidden cameras. Damon’s men might be watching. One wrong move, and we’re dead.”
Ari exhaled. “So just a simple walk in the park, then.”
“Exactly,” Jax said with a smirk. “And Ari?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t wear red. You’ll stand out.”
—
Later that night, the three of them entered the old Cathedral Club—a speakeasy disguised as a broken-down church, where the stained-glass windows glowed with the sins of the city.
Ari wore black. Tight, sleek, deadly. Kellan wore a suit he’d stolen from a dry cleaner three blocks away. Jax played the part of the dealer, already at the table.
Nova was easy to spot—shaved head, neon-blue lipstick, and a laptop case chained to her wrist like a weapon. She sat at the far table, cool as ice, watching the players more than the cards.
Kellan sat opposite her. Ari slipped into the seat beside him, every move calculated.
Nova didn’t look up. “You bring the drive?”
Kellan tapped the inside of his jacket. “You Nova?”
“You ask too many questions for someone who needs a miracle.”
Suddenly, the lights flickered.
A scream.
Gunshots.
Chaos erupted.
Kellan grabbed Ari and dove behind the table. Jax was already in motion, tackling one of Damon’s goons before he could reach Nova. The room became a war zone—chips flying, glass shattering, bullets zipping past like bees.
Nova ducked behind the altar, eyes narrowed. “Did you lead them here?!”
“No!” Ari shouted.
Kellan pulled the drive from his jacket. “Take it! Get out!”
Nova hesitated. “Come with me.”
“We’ll hold them off.”
She nodded, disappearing through a side door just as another round of shots rang out.
Jax ducked beside them, bleeding from a graze on his arm. “We gotta move. Now!”
They ran through the club’s back exit and into the street, hearts pounding.
But as they reached the alley, tires screeched.
Black SUV. Headlights blazing.
Damon Virelli stepped out, flanked by two men in tactical gear.
He smiled.
“Well, well. Lovebirds and a rat.”
Kellan pulled his gun. Ari did the same.
Damon raised his hands mockingly. “Relax. I’m not here to kill you.”
“No?” Ari hissed.
“No. I’m here to buy you.”
Silence.
“Name your price,” he said. “You want freedom? You want Rosa back? We can make a deal.”
Kellan snarled. “We’re not for sale.”
Damon’s smile faded. “Pity.”
He turned to his men.
“Take them.”
—
The next moments blurred—gunshots, fists, smoke grenades. Kellan tackled Ari out of the way. Jax went down hard, blood on his face. Kellan fired, clipped one of Damon’s men.
But in the chaos, Ari lost her grip—and a blunt force knocked her out cold.
When she woke, she was tied to a chair.
Alone.
Damon’s voice echoed in the dark:
“You made the wrong choice, Arianne.”
---
- Writer
