Chapter Eight: The cliff between us
1170 Words
A week had passed since Phoebe's mother had been discharged from the hospital. The air still carried the scent of antiseptics and old fear. Phoebe stood in front of her mirror, her fingers trembling slightly as she fastened the clasp on her delicate necklace. Her outfit was simple—just a denim skirt and a plain top—but her eyes betrayed the weight she carried.
Her phone buzzed.
**Hey Phoebe,** the message read. **Remember you agreed to another dinner? Are you in tonight by 8?**
It was from Martins.
**Sure,** she replied. **I have something to talk to you about.** She placed the phone down with a sigh that seemed to come from the bottom of her chest.
She stepped out and made her way to the bakery. The little shop had become her safe place. As she approached the door, a voice called out behind her.
"Hey bestie!"
Phoebe turned. "Leah? Didn’t think you’d come here today."
"Duhhh. Ryan’s coming. Just Ryan, I promise."
Phoebe narrowed her eyes. "Whatever you’re doing with him, just be careful. Ryan’s dangerous too."
"I know, I know," Leah said, brushing it off and stepping inside.
The hours passed slowly, filled with flour, pastries, and the clatter of trays. By 6 p.m., the shop began to empty out.
"I’m going out for dinner with Mart," Phoebe said.
Leah grinned. "Ooh, some chemistry."
Just then, Ryan walked in.
"Sorry I’m late," he muttered, brushing flour from the air.
"Hi Ryan," Phoebe replied, rolling her eyes.
"Hi princess," Ryan teased, smirking.
Leah clapped her hands. "Since there’s a guy here, it’ll be easier to pick a dress."
"What’s the occasion?" Ryan asked.
"Dinner," Leah answered, pulling Phoebe out the door.
They ended up at a nearby mall, Leah practically skipping. Ryan followed with his hands in his pockets.
"Why’s only Phoebe trying on dresses?" he asked.
"Because it’s her date," Leah grinned.
Phoebe stepped out in a black dress with beaded designs along the hem. The back was open, dipping from her neck to her lower back. Slits ran high along both thighs.
"How’s this?" she asked.
Leah gasped. "You look perfect."
Phoebe frowned. "But I can’t tie it myself. The ropes—"
"That’s what I’m here for," Leah said.
Ryan looked her over. "It’s gorgeous."
Makeup. Hair curled. A little red lipstick. Phoebe was transformed. By 7:00 p.m., they were back at her place. Leah helped her dress and whispered encouragements. Then she left with Ryan for dinner across town.
At exactly 8:00 p.m., Martins picked Phoebe up.
"Hey angel," he said, his eyes lingering on her. "You look beautiful."
"Thank you," she murmured, stepping into the car.
They drove in silence for nearly two hours, winding through roads lined with cliffs and tall trees. The restaurant was secluded, surrounded by darkness and the hum of insects. It looked less like a place for dinner and more like a place where secrets were buried.
Inside, the air was cold. Dinner began a few minutes later.
Meanwhile, across town, Ryan glanced at his phone and sent Wesley a quick text:
**You didn’t tell me you were at dinner with your babe.**
Wesley replied almost instantly.
**What do you mean? I’m home. Not at any dinner. What are you talking about?**
**Phoebe said she was going out for dinner. I figured it was with you.**
Ryan looked up. "Leah, who’s Phoebe going out with?"
"Mart," Leah replied, unconcerned.
Ryan’s expression hardened. "Did she say where?"
Leah shook her head.
Ryan immediately called Wesley. "We have to go," he said to Leah, tossing money on the table.
Back at the restaurant, Martins stood.
"I want to show you something," he said.
Phoebe followed him hesitantly outside. The cliff was silent. No wind. No sounds except her own heartbeat.
"Did you ever really leave the mafia?" she asked.
He laughed quietly, bitterly. "We never leave, Phoebs. We just shift shadows. What’s inside us never changes."
She took a cautious step back. "I think we should go."
"Not yet, princess," he whispered, stepping closer.
Her foot edged over the cliffside. Her hands shook as she reached for her phone. As soon as it rang, Martins grabbed it and flung it down into the abyss.
"Wanna play, princess?"
Wesley’s voice thundered from the phone. "Don’t touch her!"
"Too late," Martins said.
"Run, princess. If I catch you... I’ll kill you."
She ran.
Her breath tore through her chest. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears. Branches scratched her skin. She cursed herself for not listening to Wesley.
Then a dark figure stepped from the trees.
"Bring her here," Martins barked.
"Yes boss," the man replied, lifting her like she weighed nothing.
"Let go of me!" she screamed, legs flailing. "You didn’t play fair!"
Martins only laughed. "We never do."
He grabbed her throat. Her vision blurred.
"LET HER GO!" Wesley shouted, emerging from the trees.
Martins gestured. His men attacked.
Wesley shot with deadly precision. One by one, they dropped. Blood soaked the soil.
Martins grabbed Phoebe, pressing a gun to her head.
"Long time no see, cousin."
Phoebe’s heart froze.
"Let her go," Wesley said, his voice cold.
Martins smirked. "Still the same old you. Taking things that don’t belong to you."
"Not my fault they all want me," Wesley said, stepping forward.
"Move and I shoot," Martins warned. "Drop your gun."
Wesley dropped it. "You’re Daddy’s puppet. That’s why you’re nothing."
"Are you any better?" Martins asked. "Drop everything. I know you brought backup."
"I should have killed you long ago," Wesley muttered. He looked at Phoebe.
She understood.
She bit Martins’ arm. He yelled.
Wesley fired.
A second shot rang out. Ryan.
Phoebe ran to Wesley. He pulled her behind him.
Martins collapsed, bleeding.
"If I die... you’ve started a war," he rasped.
"Then let the world burn," Wesley said, firing the final shot.
Martins’ head snapped back. Silence fell.
"Clean this up," Wesley ordered.
"Yes boss," Stephen replied.
Ryan approached. "You just started a war."
"I’m ready. I’ll burn the world if I have to—for her."
He turned to Phoebe. Her eyes were wide, her hands trembling.
"Hey," he whispered, pressing his forehead to hers. "You okay?"
"Yes," she whispered. "But you’re not." She touched his bleeding arm.
"It’s nothing," Wesley muttered.
Ryan tossed over a first aid kit. "Help your man."
Phoebe gently cleaned the wound, wrapped it.
"You look sexy doing that," Wesley said, smirking.
"You’re still teasing while injured?"
"For your attention? I’d take a bullet every day."
She hit him lightly. "Ouch," he said.
"Sorry. Did I hurt you?"
He smiled. "Nope."
He cupped her cheek and kissed her, slow and deep.
"We’re done here, boss," Mark said.
"Drive us," Wesley said. "Drop Phoebe off."
"Drive us home," Phoebe cut in.
Wesley looked at her. He smiled.
Mark nodded. Wesley and Phoebe held hands as the car disappeared into the night, their future uncertain but their hearts burning with defiance.
And somewhere, deep in the shadows, war had already begun.
- Writer
