Chapter 10: Fires We Start
1068 Words
Brooklyn – Safehouse Kitchen – 7:42 a.m.
Lucia stirred a pot of coffee in the quiet before the day turned hostile. The room was dim, lit only by a low amber bulb above the sink. She hadn’t slept. Her mind wouldn’t let her.
Across the table, Elena sat barefoot in a hoodie, scrolling through overnight reports.
“Two of our vendors got spooked,” she said. “Pulled out of the Queens redevelopment deal.”
Lucia didn’t flinch. “Let them go.”
“We’ll replace them?”
Lucia nodded. “With people who believe in something more than safety.”
Elena glanced up. “And what exactly are we asking them to believe in?”
Lucia looked her dead in the eye. “Us.”
⸻
Midtown – The Network HQ – 9:13 a.m.
Mira paced in front of the glass wall of the strategy room, her tone clipped.
“I’ve restructured the investments under different LLCs. They won’t trace the money, not unless someone inside leaks again.”
Lucia stood with her arms crossed. “And Frankie?”
“Laying low. He hasn’t tried to leave the state, but he will eventually.”
“I’m letting him breathe for now,” Lucia said. “Sometimes people choke on their own fear.”
Marco entered without knocking. “We’ve got company.”
Lucia raised an eyebrow. “Not more Rosetti?”
“No,” he said. “Avery.”
⸻
Conference Room – 10:07 a.m.
Avery Lasky walked in like he owned the place—which, technically, he didn’t, but his confidence made it feel that way. Charcoal jacket, black gloves, hair just messy enough to be intentional.
“Lucia,” he greeted, voice smooth as ever. “Lovely new kingdom you’ve built.”
“You’re not here for compliments,” she replied.
He smiled. “No. I’m here to trade information.”
Lucia motioned to a seat. “Then sit. But don’t lie.”
⸻
Twenty Minutes Later
Maps were laid out across the table. Strings of red ink tied regions together—ports, trade routes, old-world allies with new-world teeth.
“The Rosetti Circle has been watching you longer than you think,” Avery explained. “But now, you’re disrupting profits. Which means they’ll escalate.”
Lucia leaned forward. “What do they want?”
“Control,” Avery said. “Of perception. Of fear. You’ve disrupted the order by offering people a choice.”
Mira asked, “And what’s your role in all this?”
Avery’s smile dropped. “I owed someone. That debt is paid now.”
Lucia studied him. “Why tell us all this?”
“Because if they crush you, it’s back to blood feuds and backroom deals. You’re building something new. That deserves a fighting chance.”
Lucia held his gaze. “You’re not who you were in Rome.”
“No,” he said. “Neither are you.”
⸻
Harlem – Pop-Up Event – 1:22 p.m.
The Network’s first public-facing initiative launched in the heart of Harlem—free legal advice, community resources, and local business grants. No suits. No guns. Just people helping people.
Lucia walked among the tents, anonymous in jeans and a leather jacket. No entourage. No speeches.
A girl approached her, maybe ten years old.
“Are you the one who made all this happen?” the girl asked.
Lucia smiled. “I helped.”
The girl handed her a drawing. It was messy and bright—a big heart, a city, a name written in bold crayon: Lucia.
“I drew it for you,” the girl said.
Lucia knelt. “Thank you.”
Sometimes, the war faded for a second. And it felt like hope.
⸻
Warehouse Rooftop – That Night
Avery stood beside Lucia, looking out over the East River.
“You know they’ll send someone next,” he said. “Not a messenger. A cleaner.”
“I’m counting on it,” she replied.
“They’ll try to hit your heart,” he warned.
Lucia’s eyes narrowed. “Let them try. They’ll learn my heart’s made of armor.”
Avery turned to her. “You were softer once.”
“No,” Lucia said. “Just quieter.”
He chuckled. “Still poetry in you.”
She smiled faintly. “I save it for when I’m bleeding.”
⸻
Midtown Hotel – 3:11 a.m.
The hit came fast.
Two black sedans. Silencers. Three men in tailored suits. No names. No hesitations.
Lucia wasn’t there—but Elena was.
And Elena was ready.
Gunfire broke the silence. A vase shattered. A fire alarm wailed.
Two attackers went down. One escaped.
Lucia arrived ten minutes later, calm, calculated.
“Get the survivor,” she told Marco. “No police. No statements. Just answers.”
Elena wiped blood from her cheek. “They knew my schedule.”
Lucia’s jaw tightened. “We have another leak.”
⸻
Network HQ – 4:47 a.m.
The building was silent. Mira paced again, checking logs, access codes.
“It wasn’t digital,” she muttered. “They had a physical tail.”
Lucia stood by the window, eyes on the skyline.
“They’re not trying to kill us,” she said. “Not yet.”
“Then what?” Marco asked.
“They want to make us paranoid,” Lucia replied. “Distract us. Slow us down.”
Avery appeared in the doorway. “It’s working.”
Lucia turned. “Not for long.”
⸻
Frankie’s Hideout – 5:30 a.m.
He knew the knock wasn’t friendly.
Frankie opened the door, hands up. “I didn’t tell them anything else.”
Lucia stepped in alone. No guards. No threats.
“You’re not here to kill me?” he asked.
“No,” she said. “I need you to help me end this.”
His brow furrowed. “You’re serious?”
Lucia nodded. “You know how they think. I want to flip that against them.”
Frankie swallowed hard. “You trust me?”
“No,” she said. “But I’m betting on your guilt.”
⸻
Warehouse – Later That Day
Plans were sketched. Routes mapped. Meetings staged.
Lucia prepared not just for a war—but a message. One that would ripple far beyond New York.
“You sure about this?” Elena asked.
Lucia nodded. “The only way out is through.”
- Writer
