I stepped down from the train with the rest of the masses of people, the hiss of steam filling the air as the locomotive creaked to a stop. The once-proud runways of LAX were now nothing more than rusted metal and cracked asphalt, a shadow of what they’d been. Where sleek jetliners once roared into the sky, steam and electric-powered locomotives sat hissing and humming, their engines powered by an uneasy marriage of old technology and new.

Deluca Enterprises was stamped on every one of them, a constant reminder of who controlled this city now. I could feel his presence looming, not Deluca himself but the raving lunatic who works for him. Natalie Knolt. She wouldn’t stop until I was dead. I shuddered, pulling the thin, frayed cowl of my jumpsuit closer around my face. The gray fabric clung to my skin like damp paper, offering little warmth against the chill in the air.

I had once been someone. A cop, a protector. Then I crossed the wrong people. Now, I was just another face in a sea of desperation, blending in with the ragtag group of refugees who had fled the countryside after the latest plague outbreak. The station was filled with people just like me, huddled together under the fog of fear, uncertainty and exhaustion. The city had become a powder keg, ready to explode from the sheer number of bodies it could no longer sustain.

I stepped away from the train, every muscle in my body tense, every sense heightened. I was constantly on edge, waiting for the moment they would find me. The law wasn’t going to protect me anymore. No one was. The men who once wore the badge beside me had betrayed me, too scared of the mob’s wrath to lift a finger in my defense.

I had nothing now but my wits, and whatever strength I could wield. But I was afraid and alone. And that scared me more than anything. Fear wasn’t something I was used to, at least not like this. This was a kind of fear that chased you in your sleep, that crawled into your gray matter and settled there, waiting for the right moment to strike.

I kept my head down, moving with the crowd as it spilled out of the station and into the city. Los Angeles was nothing like it used to be. The streets were clogged with people, vendors hawking whatever scraps of food they had left, and gangs of angry young men who seemed ready to pounce at the first sign of weakness. I stuck close to the other refugees, hoping that by blending in, I could stay invisible.

The air smelled of rust and burnt oil, the ever-present stench of decay hanging over the city. The world had become a place where survival wasn’t guaranteed, where every step could be your last, where every face could be an enemy. I clenched my fists at my sides, my knuckles going white beneath the thin fabric of my sleeves.

I had hoped to find some kind of refuge here, a place where I could lie low until things calmed down. But seeing the state of things now, I wasn’t sure there was anywhere safe left to hide. The city was on edge and stretched thin by the constant influx of people fleeing from the countryside.

Resources were scarce, and tensions were high. I could feel it in the way people moved, their eyes darting nervously, their hands twitching toward hidden weapons. Civil unrest was brewing just beneath the surface, ready to erupt at any moment.

However, I could feel that I was running out of options. I knew they would find me eventually. I had evaded them for weeks now, hiding out in remote locations, spending all of my life savings on black-market transportation. Staying one step further than the Mob, I knew though that they would eventually catchup to me.

I heard the stories and knew their methods. Time was on their side, but maybe, I could give them a swan song they’d remember me by. The biggest ‘fuck you’ I could muster before their bullet found my skull. I had a plan and a knew some people who would help me make that happen. For a price.

I shoved my way through the crowd at the station, pulling the cowl of my thin, gray jumpsuit lower over my face. The fabric was threadbare, clinging to me in the damp air as I kept my head down, trying to blend into the throng of refugees around me. It had been days since I’d had any real sleep, and exhaustion clung to me like the sweat trickling down my neck. My boots felt like heavy metal, but I forced myself to keep moving.

The bus was packed, but I found a seat near the back, squeezed between a middle-aged woman clutching a blanket and a young man coughing quietly into his sleeve. I winced at the sound, trying to edge a little farther away without drawing attention. The last thing I needed was to catch whatever plague had sent these people fleeing into the city.

The bus lurched forward, its engine humming as it pulled away from the station. I leaned my head against the cold window, watching as the dilapidated streets of Los Angeles passed by. The city felt different now. It wasn’t the same place I’d once known when I lived here, the streets I patrolled in uniform. It was serious work, but I’d felt like I had a purpose, like I was helping to hold things together. Now… now I was just another fugitive.

The bus rumbled on, and I let my eyes drift to the screen mounted above the driver’s seat. The news flickered to life, the familiar monotone voice of the anchor cutting through the low murmur of the passengers.

“New reports from the Atlantic Alliance of Europe indicate widespread food riots in Berlin. As corporate takeovers of essential food producing assets have led to tensions across the region, with fears of further escalations. The situation remains volatile.”

I listened to the news, the words blending into the background noise of the city collapsing in on itself. The whole world felt like it was teetering on the edge, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that everything was just… unraveling.

“Meanwhile,” the anchor continued, “tensions between North and South Korea continue to rise, with military build-ups reported along the DMZ. Analysts warn that the situation may reach a breaking point in the coming weeks.”

The screen flickered, the anchor’s voice replaced by a local report. This time, I found myself to paying more attention. Dread rising as I listened to the report.

“Mounting gang violence continues to spread across several districts of Los Angeles as food trains move closer to the city. The trains, heavily guarded, are expected to arrive within a few days, bringing much-needed relief to the overcrowded aid stations. However, officials are urging residents to stay home until new food distribution centers are opened and restocked. Civil unrest is expected to worsen as supplies dwindle in the lead-up to the trains’ arrival.”

I felt my stomach clench at the mention of the food trains. I’d heard rumors about them on my way into the city, whispers of hope mixed with fear. If the gangs got hold of those supplies, there’d be blood in the streets. I’d seen it before, back when I was still on the force. Desperation made people do seriously crazy things.

The bus jolted over a pothole, and I winced as my head bumped against the window. The people around me shifted uneasily, some glancing up at the screen, others too lost in their own thoughts to care. I was grateful for the silence. It gave me time to think, to plan my next move.

A hour later the bus creaked to a stop outside a station, and I followed the crowd as they shuffled off, my heart pounding in my chest. I needed to stay low, to keep moving. But I also needed to rest. Just for a little while.

As I stepped onto the cracked pavement, the city felt even heavier than before. The air was thick with tension, the hair on the back of my neck stood up. I could feel eyes on me paranoid, watchful eyes that seemed to lurk in every shadow.

I walked through the crowded streets, my eyes scanning the chaos around me. Families huddled together on the sidewalks, their faces gaunt, eyes hollow with hunger and fear. Children cried, their wails piercing through the thick air, and mothers tried to comfort them with what little they had left.

Everywhere I looked, I saw only desperation. People shuffled past me, their faces grim, shoulders hunched as if the weight of the world had finally broken them. The city had always been tough, but this… this was different. This was total survival, stripped down to its rawest form.

A scuffle broke out nearby, a group of angry young men cornering a frail man and his wife. They were yelling something about food, about fairness, but I couldn’t hear the details over the noise of the street. The woman clutched her baby, backing away as one of the men grabbed her husband by the collar, shaking him violently.

I felt my pulse quicken, my instincts screaming at me to step in, to do something. The old cop in me, the part of me that still believed in justice, wanted to intervene. My hand even twitched toward where my gun would’ve been if I still had it.

I didn’t.

I wasn’t a cop anymore. I wasn’t in a position to help anyone, hell, I could barely help myself. I forced myself to keep walking, my jaw clenched so tight it hurt. The cries of the man and his wife echoed behind me, mingling with the jeers of the men harassing them. I could hear the baby crying too, that awful, desperate sound that gnawed at my gut. I didn’t turn back. I couldn’t.

I kept my head down, slipping past the crowd as quickly as I could, feeling the guilt twist in my stomach like a knife. Every step away from that scene felt heavier than the last, but I knew what would happen if I stopped. It wouldn’t be just their fight anymore. It would be mine. And I couldn’t afford that. Not now.

The cries of the victims faded into the distance as I hurried through the streets, their sounds lingering in the back of my mind like a haunting echo. I told myself I had no choice. I had to survive; it was me against the world. There was no room for heroics in this world, not anymore. I felt as if I had left behind a piece of my soul behind.

After an hour of navigating the winding chaos of the city via buses and a beat-up taxi, I finally reached my destination. It was a small, nondescript home tucked away in a quieter part of town; a refuge hidden from the madness that had gripped the streets. This place felt different from the rest of Los Angeles, quieter, more still, but I knew nowhere was truly safe.

This was the home of a family that had once been my lifeline, the only real connection I’d had after my parents had died when I was just an toddler. Marie and David, my adopted family, had taken me in when I had no one, and for years they had been everything to me. But they were gone now taken by a car crash that felt like it had shattered my world.

Now, only Sora remained. My sister, not by blood, but by every other measure that counted. We had met after the accident, connected again through shared grief, and she had become the one person left in this world who still mattered to me. She might be the last friend I could turn to, the last person I could trust. And in the desperate place I found myself now, that meant everything.

I stood outside the house for a moment, staring at the chipped paint on the door, the familiar cracks in the brickwork. It felt like stepping back in time, to a life that had once been simpler, safer. But I wasn’t that naive girl anymore. Neither was the world.

I knocked on the door, a sudden wave of nervousness hitting me. I didn’t know what I would find on the other side. Would Sora still be the same person I remembered? Would she still welcome me? I hadn’t seen her in nearly five years.

A moment passed, then another, and I heard footsteps approaching from inside. The door creaked open, and there she was. Sora, her dark hair still tied back in a messy bun, her eyes just as sharp and kind as I remembered, though now shadowed with the weight of years of hardship. She froze for a second, staring at me in disbelief, and then a soft smile broke across her face.

“Kendall… you’re here,” she said, her voice warm.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “Yeah,” I said, my voice rough. “I’m here.”

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

Sora stepped aside, waving me in. “Come in. It’s been too long.”

I stepped into the warmth of the house, the faint smell of spices and cooking making it feel more like a home than anywhere I’d been in a long time. For a moment, the world outside didn’t exist. It was just me and Sora, the last remnants of a family that had weathered so much.

There in the comfort of a home that I had been away from too long I reconnected with the last of my family before the end would come.

Sitting at the driver’s seat, the muted hum of the engine barely audible over the soft crackle of static from the radio. The air inside was thick with the smell of old leather, sweat, and the faintest trace of cigarettes.

My crew was spread out in their own vehicles, parked in strategic positions across the block. Everyone was on edge, the tension sticking around as we waited. Been waiting for six days, doing the odd jobs every other day, but those where drying up fast.

The radio hissed softly in my ear, and I heard the familiar voices of my team. Quiet, professional, the way we always kept it when we were in the field. There was nothing glamorous about this work; it was all about survival and getting the job done.

We were well-equipped, better than most crews in this hellhole of a city. Though things were getting tight, these days. Gear didn’t come cheap, and then lately, neither did the food. That’s why this job was crucial. It wasn’t just another payday; it was a big score, the kind that kept us going for months. And we weren’t the only ones in this game. The bigger predators were circling, and right now, we were working for one of the most dangerous of predators. The Mob.

Dealing with the Mob always carried a huge risk, more so when you were dealing with someone like Natalie Knolt. She wasn’t the kind of woman who forgave mistakes, and if we failed to deliver… well, we wouldn’t be around to regret it.

I leaned back in the driver’s seat, adjusting the earpiece as I listened to the low chatter filtering through the comms. The talk was about hitting an aid station for food and supplies, enough to keep us stocked for a while. The city was falling apart, and with every passing day, it became harder to find what you needed to keep living. The people at those aid stations were desperate, and desperate people made easy targets.

The job we were working now wasn’t about raiding some station for scraps. No, this was about something bigger. I had my sights on a far more valuable target. A fugitive, Kendall Wolfe. One I’d been tracking for weeks now, slipping through the cracks, always one step ahead.

She had made herself a thorn in the side of people who could afford a lot more than just the bounty I was getting for her. Natalie Knolt wanted her alive, and that meant catching her alive, keeping her alive until I delivered her personally. Alive and well for Natalie to… play with.

It was always a delicate balance, playing this game. I had my own rules, my own way of doing things. But when the bigger predators got involved, you either stayed ahead of the job, always ears down on the ground to hear the ripples of news and eyes always scanning for any hint of a sign of the target.

I caught a couple of hints from Kendall’s past, people who knew her and I approached one and hashed out an agreement, an iron in the fire. The other hint was a dead no go zone, why and how Kendall knew and befriended an arms dealer gang was an interesting fact. Perhaps a lover with the head of the gang? Or a very close friend who, no matter what they did, would always be a friend? Regardless of how… I stayed clear of that connection.

The radio crackled again, and I could hear my team talking quietly about the best way to pull the raid. The quiet hum of the radio quickly escalated into a heated debate. I could hear them, voices rising just below a shout, the frustration bleeding through the comms. It was subtle at first, just a few grumbles about the aid station, but now the tone had shifted. Some of the guys were pushing for a quick raid, an easy grab for food and supplies. Others were against it, knowing full well it could bring more heat than we need right now.

"We hit that aid station, and we’ll have cops swarming us for days!" One of them, Marco, snapped over the radio. His voice was sharp, angry. "We’re already running low on ammo. You think we can fend off law enforcement and whoever else shows up?"

“Law enforcement ain’t what they used to be,” Leon chimed in, his voice laced with contempt. "Half of them are bought, the other half too scared to do anything. We grab what we need and get out before anyone knows what happened."

A few more voices chimed in, arguing back and forth, pushing their own agendas. It was turning into a mess. The raid wasn’t part of the plan, and the fact that they were even discussing it was starting to piss me off. I exhaled sharply, letting them argue for a few more seconds, my patience wearing thin. Then, I reached over grasping the radio.

"Enough!" My voice cut through the chatter like a blade, cold and commanding. The bickering died instantly, falling into a tense silence as everyone waited for me to speak again. I could feel the weight of their attention now, all ears on me.

"We’re not hitting that aid station," I said, keeping my tone steady but firm. "We’ve got a deadly client who gave us a job to do, and that’s where our focus stays at one hundred percent. We don’t need unnecessary heat. We keep our heads down, stay on target, and get paid. Got it?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line, a few hesitant breaths, but no one dared argue back. They knew better. A few confirmations came through, low muttered acknowledgments that told me they got the message. Good. There wasn’t room for division, not now. Not when the job was this delicate.

I leaned back again, the tension easing slightly. They knew the drill, and they knew I wouldn’t tolerate any distractions. We were professionals. And professionals didn’t get greedy or stupid.

Hours later the phone vibrated in my hand, breaking the silence that had settled. I glanced at the screen before answering, already knowing who it was. The woman I had spoken to weeks back, Kendall’s sister. I pressed the phone to my ear.

“Well?” I asked, keeping my voice calm and steady.

“She’s here... at my house...” the voice on the other end was barely a whisper, trembling, filled with fear and guilt. Good. She should be afraid.

“And?” I pressed; my patience thinner.

“She’s... she’s asleep. I… used the… tonic you gave me…I…” Her voice trembling. I heard enough, interrupting her, smirking, I spoke.

“Good. We’ll be there to pick her up shortly, and you, my dear, will be well paid. Just as we agreed.”

There was no need for further discussion. I hung up, not waiting for any response. That was her problem now, not mine. I leaned forward, tapping into the radio again. My voice came out low and controlled, commanding.

“Masks on,” I said.

The acknowledgment came without hesitation this time. There was no more time for bickering, no more distractions. Kendall was within reach, and soon, this whole thing would be over. A job done. A big pay day for me and my crew.

The two vehicles rolled through the quiet streets under the cover of darkness, headlights off to avoid drawing any unnecessary attention. After five minutes, they came to a stop in front of a small, nondescript house, the kind that blended into the background of a city that had long since lost its luster. The men moved swiftly, stepping out of the vans in silence, faces masked, shadows in the night. They approached the house with practiced ease, disappearing through the door that opened to them without resistance.

Muffled screams filtered through the walls, cut off just as quickly as they started, leaving an eerie silence in their wake.

I waited a moment before stepping out of the van and making my way toward the house, the cool night air biting at my skin. Inside, one of my men was already holding Kendall’s limp body, her face exposed, unconscious but unharmed. I looked down, through my own mask, at the young woman, taking in her familiar features before giving a curt nod.

“That’s her,” I confirmed, my tone businesslike.

I turned to Sora, who stood in the corner, trembling and pale. Her eyes were wide, filled with guilt and shame that seemed to radiate from her in waves. I didn’t care. It wasn’t my job to make her feel better about the choice she’d made.

I pulled out my phone, thumbing through the transfer, and in seconds, funds were deposited into her account. Five hundred grand. I glanced up at her with a detached smirk. “Try not to let that eat you up inside,” I said coolly. “For me, it’s a Tuesday night, all in a day’s work.”

Her face twisted with guilt, but I ignored it. My men loaded Kendall into the van, her unconscious body slumped between two of them, her fate sealed. We drove off into the night.

I stirred, groggy and disoriented, my body aching in ways that sent alarm bells ringing through my mind. My wrists and ankles were bound tightly to a chair, the cold bite of the restraints digging into my skin. Panic flared immediately, and terror crept up my spine like ice. They had me! The bastards had me!

“No!”

My heart pounded in my chest as the memories of the night came flooding back. I could still feel the rough hands gripping my arms, the weight of the men holding me down, and the sharp sting of the needle as the sedative was plunged into my veins. But what haunted me more than anything was Sora.

Sora. My adopted sister. She had stood there, watching, her face twisted with guilt but not enough to stop her from betraying me. She had let it happen. She had let them take me. I had trusted her, believed that her home would be a haven. A place where I could lay low, regroup. Instead, she had sold me out, standing by while three men restrained me like an animal.

I could see her eyes in my mind, wide and fearful, as if she were the victim, as if she were the one whose life was in danger. But she wasn’t. I was. And now, I was in their hands, completely at their mercy. I’m dead… oh God I am dead! Worse they have me alive… no! NO!

I struggle in vain at the thick rope around my limbs. The room was dimly lit, shadows flickering against the walls from a single hanging bulb. My breaths came fast and shallow as I tested the restraints. They held firm. No escape, no freedom. The fear twisting into something sharper, colder. Anger.

The door creaked open, and I tensed in my chair, my heart thudding painfully against my ribcage. I couldn’t see much in the dim light, but I heard the heavy footsteps as he walked in. He was masked, his features hidden behind some cheap, expressionless cover. A cigarette hung lazily from a small slit in the mask, the faint glow illuminating the outline of his face beneath the mask.

He didn’t say anything at first, just dragged a metal stool across the concrete floor, the screeching sound setting my teeth on edge. He sat down in front of me, casual, and placed a bottle of water on the table between us like it was some kind of peace offering. My throat burned with thirst, but I wasn’t about to let him see that.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, cradling his head in his hands as he took a long drag from the cigarette. The smoke curled lazily into the air, disappearing into the shadows of the room. I couldn’t see his eyes through the mask, but I felt his gaze on me. Heavy. Calculating.

"Kendall," he finally said, his voice low, oily and cold, "you know what's gonna happen next, right?"

I forced myself not to flinch. I didn’t give him satisfaction. Of course, I knew what was coming. I’d been on the other side of this equation before, back when I wore the badge and thought I could make a difference. I knew how this was going to end, I feel burning at the corners of my eyes… Sora… How could you do this me? Why?

I knew the answer to the question and it hurt. The truth always hurt.

The masked man wordlessly reached into his jacket, pulling out a tablet. I could hear the faint hum as it powered on. He tapped a few buttons, and then he set it on the table, propping it up so that I could see the screen.

A woman’s face appeared; the connection clear enough that I could make out every malicious detail. Red hair framed a twisted expression that could only be described as hateful, her features ugly not just in the physical sense but from the sheer darkness that radiated from her. Her smile, if you could even call it a smile, was pure venom, spreading slowly across her face as she took in the sight of me.

My skin crawled with terror. Natalie Knolt. The woman behind all of this. The mobster I’d crossed, the one who had marked me for death because I had dared to do my job.

I couldn’t help it, my body reacted before my mind could say otherwise. A tremble started in my hands, small at first but growing until it felt like my entire body was shaking. I clenched my fists, trying to stop the visible tremor, but it was no use. She saw it. And that sick grin on her face only grew wider.

Behind her, I could see the flashing lights, thumping music, laughter and plush surroundings and perverse posters of nude women and men. A strip club. The kind of place where she could indulge in her desires while pretending it was all just business.

"Kendall Wolfe," she purred, her voice thick with contempt, "look at you, shaking like a leaf. Never thought I’d see you brought so low. How delightful."

I tried to steel myself, but the fear, the raw, visceral terror, was too much. I was trapped. And she was reveling in it. Natalie leaned closer to the screen, her eyes narrowing, the amusement in her expression giving way to something colder, darker. I’m so frightened, I can barely breath.

“You should have known better, Kendall,” she said, her voice dripping with venom. “You just had to interfere with my business, didn’t you? Thought you were doing the right thing, huh? Thought being a cop made you some kind of hero?” She laughed, a harsh, ugly sound that cut through the silence of the room. “Well, look where that got you.”

I swallowed hard, trying to suppress the rising panic. My heart pounded in my chest as she continued, her voice growing even more contemptuous as she laughed at me. I scrunch my eyes closed and open my eyes again.

“You made me look weak. You humiliated me in front of Deluca, and now he expects me to fix it. I had that blue-collar dirtbag ready for a good thrashing, but no... you had to play the hero. And now, darling, you’re going to pay for it.”

I’m going to die… oh God, she’s going to kill me.

The shakes were hitting me hard, she wasn’t just going to kill me, she was going to make sure I suffered, to make an example of me for daring to stand in her way.

Natalie’s grin deepened as she leaned closer to the camera, her eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. “Before we meet face to face, darling, do you have anything to say for yourself? Any last thoughts you want to share with me?”

My throat tightened, and for a moment, I couldn’t find my voice. The words stuck, choked back by the raw terror coursing through me. What could I possibly say to someone like her? Someone who took joy in the pain she inflicted, who saw this as nothing more than a twisted game? I swallowed hard, forcing down the fear and anger, and with a shaking breath, I finally spoke.

“You won’t break me.”

It was a lie, she knew it, I knew it.

“Brave words my dear, but I’ll see if you speak more brave words,” Natalie purred, her voice dripping with malice. "I’ll see you very soon." She gave a slow, mocking wave, her smile widening and with dread coiling in my gut.

A hood was dropped over my head from behind, I screamed, and hands grasped me arcing my head to the side, hold me in place. I screamed and screamed. I felt another syringe pierce my skin at my neck and as I begin to slip into unconsciousness, I wondered why the world was hell. Why?