Laced With Havoc

Episode -4

Freyda Liselle leaned against the cracked marble counter of her tiny kitchen, humming softly as she dusted powdered sugar over the freshly baked fig and honey tartlets. The golden pastries gleamed under the flickering light, each delicate, flaky edge a piece of art. She smiled faintly, brushing a curl from her face, leaving a streak of flour across her cheek.

The apartment was quiet. It always was.

The walls, once painted a soft lavender, had faded to a tired gray. Her mother’s perfume bottle still sat untouched on the

windowsill, though Freyda had no memory of her mother wearing it. She didn’t remember her at all, really—just a flash of soft laughter, the scent of roses, and then... nothing.

Freyda shook herself from the thought. Today wasn’t for sadness.

Today was for a little girl with sparkling eyes and a laugh like melted honey.

She boxed up the tartlets carefully, tying the old ribbon she'd scavenged from her fabric stash into a neat bow.

Maybe Elara would like them, she thought, heart blooming a little. Maybe today would feel less lonely.

She tucked the box into a canvas bag alongside her sketchpad and slipped on her threadbare sneakers. The worn soles slapped softly against the cracked pavement as she made her way to the park—the same place she had met Elara just days ago, the first bright spot in her life in months.

---

The park breathed with the easy sighs of spring. Cherry blossoms drifted down like pale pink snow, scattering across the weather-worn benches and bright green lawns.

Freyda spotted her immediately.

Elara sat cross-legged near the sandbox, her golden hair tangled and wild, clutching a stick as she doodled in the dirt. She wore a tiny denim jacket, pink sneakers kicking lazily.

When she looked up and saw Freyda, her entire face lit up.

“FAIRY!” Elara shrieked, dropping her stick and barreling across the grass.

Freyda laughed, dropping to one knee just in time to catch her. “Hello, little star,” she whispered, arms tightening around the small, warm body that smelled faintly of strawberries and sunshine.

“I missed you!” Elara declared, pulling back to look at her. “You smell like sugar again.”

Freyda grinned, tapping the tip of Elara’s nose. “Maybe because I brought you something.”

She pulled out the box of tarts, opening the lid with a small flourish.

Elara gasped. “Magic food!”

“They’re fig and honey tartlets,” Freyda said solemnly. “Made by fairies at midnight.”

Elara cupped her hands around one like it was a treasure. She took a bite and moaned so dramatically that Freyda laughed again, feeling a strange, sweet ache in her chest.

For a long moment, they simply sat together, eating pastries and letting the sun warm their faces.

The whole time Freyda felt someone watching them. She held Elara's hand and walked to the park where her uncle waved at her. Elara said goodbye to her fairy and ran towards her uncle. But when Freyda turned back, the stalker was long gone.

--

That night, the knock came.

Sharp. Insistent.

Freyda with hands still dusted with thread and pins from her latest gown—an ethereal masterpiece of pale gold chiffon and stardust embroidery. The dress hung half-finished on the mannequin, a dream interrupted. She was expecting this.

She opened the door a crack.

Two men. Frostbite colors. The taller one leaned against the frame, smiling a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Pretty bird,” he said. “Forgot who owns you?”

Freyda’s cared less, but deep down she knew she was tired. Rather too tired to take them down due to the amount of sleep she lacked in the past week.

She replied," I'm still working".

“Not fast enough. Not grateful enough either,” the other sneered. “We heard you’re making friends. Cute kid.”

At this her heart skipped a beat. So it really were them.

“She’s just a neighbor.”

The tall one tsked. “Don’t matter. You belong to Frostbite now, sweetheart. Stay in your lane, or someone might get... curious.”

Freyda didn't had time for this bullshit.

She jerked back. The door slammed.

The lock turned.

She leaned her forehead against the wood, breathing hard.

They won’t hurt her, she told herself desperately. They wouldn’t hurt a child.

But the hollow in her chest knew better.

---

Meanwhile, at the Havoc Mansion...

Elara twirled around the kitchen, crumbs trailing behind her like stardust as she recounted her adventure to Grandma Vivienne.

“She’s sooo pretty! Like a real fairy! She gave me magic desserts!”

Grandma Vivienne chuckled, wiping the girl’s sticky hands. “Sounds like a very special friend, darling.”

Across the room, Zion froze mid-sip of his coffee.

A fairy?

He set his cup down slowly, brow furrowing.

“Did you get her name, pumpkin?” he asked casually.

Elara beamed. “Mmmm... I forgot.” She twirled again, dress flaring. “She smells like cakes and stars!”

The whole family laughed, but Zion’s gaze sharpened.

Someone new.

Someone kind to Elara.

Someone not from the Havoc inner circle.

Someone Frostbite might notice.

Later, after Elara had been tucked into bed with her stuffed bunny, Zion stood on the balcony, arms crossed. The stars wheeled overhead, bright and pitiless.

He didn’t trust new people.

Especially not when Frostbite MC was sniffing around like starving wolves.

Still...

Some instinct deeper than fear tugged at him.

Maybe, he thought grimly, it was time the fairy met the devil.

---

Back in her apartment, Freyda stitched into the early hours, forcing her hands to stay steady. Every pull of the needle was a prayer. Every sequin sewn was a promise.

Stay invisible. Stay alive.

The fairy would fight to protect her tiny light, even if the shadows closed in.

And somewhere across the city, Zion Havoc sharpened his knives, preparing for the storm to come.

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