Bingo sat cross-legged on the couch, papers scattered across the coffee table like some battlefield. Her robe, loose and dark, draped over her form, but she hadn't bothered with much else—just her underwear underneath.
The file in her hand was heavy with information, its contents detailing the merciless rise of Nyx, the Black Widow she was going after next. The name was already too familiar, even if she hadn't yet crossed paths with him. 23 years old, 5'10", a formidable build, Jack Russell.. He'd killed over 800 people in just five years—an impressive, terrifying stat. But what really caught her attention was the bounty: 255,000 AUD. It was a hefty price, one that spoke volumes about his capabilities.
But Bingo wasn't intimidated. No, she wasn't here to be intimidated anymore. She was here to finish what she started.
Got to focus. Just focus on this. Nyx. Take him down. That's what I'm here for… I've gotta lock in.
She exhaled slowly, her fingers absently tracing the edge of the file. But before she could dive deeper into her thoughts, her phone buzzed on the edge of the table, pulling her from her focus.
Bzzt
Bzzt
Bzzt
She glanced at the screen. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw the contact name: "Big Sis Bluey."
Bluey?
Her heart skipped.
"Hello? Bluey? What's up, sis?" Bingo answered quickly, her voice betraying the knot in her stomach.
"Heya Bingo!" Bluey's cheerful voice rang out, bright despite the circumstances. "Just wanted to give you the lowdown from the doctor." Bingo's heart softened, relieved to hear her sister sounding as upbeat as she could.
"Go on…" Bingo leaned back on the couch, trying to keep her voice steady, but her stomach churned with nerves. What's going on? Is she okay?
"Well, I'm stuck in the hospital for a bit, but they'll let me out soon. Gotta keep an eye on me for now to make sure I'm stable. My left shoulder and arm are still wrecked, though. I can barely move 'em without pain shooting through, but, you know, I've got to tough it out. After that, I've got physical therapy lined up to help me get back in shape. It's gonna suck, but hey… I'll get there. It'll just take time." She chuckled lightly, though Bingo could hear the strain in it.
She's still pushing through it… She's still strong. Always has been…
Bingo sat in silence, her breath stuttering as Bluey continued to speak. She clenched the file tighter in her hand, staring at the floor, trying to push the rising lump in her throat down. Her chest tightened, a painful reminder of everything she'd put her sister through by dragging her into this nightmare.
God, Bluey, I should've been the one. Not you. It should've been me. Why couldn't it have been me?
"Jesus, Bluey…" Bingo whispered, her voice barely a breath. "I should've been the one to take the hit.. not you."
Bluey's voice softened, her tone warm despite the situation. "Bingo, it's okay. I'm okay. I'll be fine. Just gotta stay positive, y'know?" She laughed, and Bingo could hear her trying to keep the mood light. But Bingo knew better than anyone how much Bluey was holding back for her.
She's lying. She's hiding it all for me. But I see through it.
"You're strong, sis. I know you'll bounce back," Bingo said, her voice cracking at the end, despite her best efforts to mask the tremor. She hated herself for how weak she sounded, but at this moment, with the weight of everything pressing down on her, she couldn't help it.
Bluey paused for a moment before speaking again. "Mackenzie, Judo, Rusty, Coco, Chloe, Honey… they all came to check in on me. Word spreads fast, huh? Even Lila stopped by… she asked about you." Bingo's heart skipped, the mention of Lila hitting her like a gut punch.
Lila?
Lila was the one person who knew everything about Bingo's personal life (minus the assassin stuff) the one person Bingo had pulled away from the most. She hadn't spoken to her in over a year, cutting herself off from her closest friend to protect her. But Lila was still looking for her.
Still worried about her.
I… I can't even remember the last time I talked to her. How could I have just disappeared like that?
Bluey's voice cracked slightly as she continued, "Sis, she's worried. And she doesn't know. She doesn't know what you've been doing, why you disappeared. You kinda just… went silent on her." There was a touch of sadness in her voice, a reminder of the rift Bingo had caused by leaving without a word.
Bingo shut her eyes, a twinge of guilt ripping through her.
I'm such an idiot. I should have called. I should've explained. But, instead, I just cut everyone off… left them in the dark.
"I know… I'll talk to her soon, I swear," Bingo said, her voice quiet but resolute.
Bluey let out a sigh, the kind that spoke of unspoken worries. "You'll have to talk to Mum and Dad too, you know. They saw the letter you left… and they've been heartbroken Bingo. You left without a word just before Christmas. It hurt them. You've gotta tell them the truth eventually.."
Bingo's stomach churned. The truth. Could she even do that? Could she tell them what she had become, the blood she had on her hands?
Her fingers tightened around the phone, her breath shaky.
No. I can't tell them. Not yet. Not like this. Not while I'm hunting them down.
She swallowed hard. "Yeah… I know. But I'm not ready for that. Not yet." The words tasted bitter in her mouth.
There was a pause on the other end of the line. Bluey didn't push. Instead, she simply said, "Just think about it, sis. I'll be here when you're ready."
Bingo wiped her eyes, her mind racing as her thoughts spiraled. She didn't have time to worry about family. She didn't have time to deal with the weight of her past. There was still work to be done.
I have to finish this. I have to do it for Bluey… and for myself. The truth will come later. But first, I have a mission…
"I'll get to it," Bingo whispered, almost to herself. "But right now… I've got work to do… You just rest up, okay?"
"Right on… I'll speak to you soon, little sister." And like that, Bluey hung up the phone.
Bingo sat there, her hand resting idly on her phone as the guilt gnawed at her. She stared at the dark screen, her reflection barely visible in it. With a sigh, she unlocked it and scrolled through her contacts, searching for a name she hadn't dared to look at in over a year.
My bestie
The name stared back at her like an old photograph—familiar, but distant, carrying with it a wave of memories she wasn't sure she could face. She hesitated before tapping on the contact, her thumb hovering over the screen as her chest tightened.
What the hell am I even doing?
She opened their message thread, feeling a pang of guilt shoot through her chest as she read the last text Lila had sent:
"Are things alright?"
That was it. Simple, caring, and utterly ignored. Bingo had left her on read, and now the silence between them felt heavier than anything else in her life. She let out a long sigh, her ears drooping slightly as she muttered to herself, "That was fucked up, Bingo.. leaving your best friend on read.."
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, the weight of every unspoken word pressing down on her. For a moment, she considered backing out, and putting the phone away like she had so many times before, but she knew that wouldn't fix anything. Not this time.
After a moment of hesitation, she began to type:
"Hey Lila… whenever you're free, do you wanna call? Text? Or anything? I'm so sorry for leaving you in the dark… let's catch up, yeah?"
Her thumb lingered over the "Send" button for a moment, her chest tightening. What if she doesn't answer? What if she's pissed? What if she doesn't want anything to do with me anymore?
With a sharp inhale, she pushed the thought aside and hit "Send." The message disappeared into the void, leaving her to sit there, staring at the screen, feeling more vulnerable than she had in months.
She set the phone down quickly, as if holding it any longer might burn her. Turning her attention back to the files on the coffee table, she tried to focus, but her mind kept drifting. She reached for her work phone, thinking of distracting herself by calling Havoc to discuss their next steps.
But then—
Ding.
Her phone buzzed softly against the table. Bingo froze, her breath catching in her throat as she glanced at the screen.
It's her. It's Lila.
She picked up the phone slowly, her heart pounding in her chest. Opening the message, her stomach sank as she read Lila's reply:
"What took you so long to text me, stranger? Let's talk later, I'm with my family right now."
Bingo winced, her ears flattening against her head. Yikes.
Her fingers tightened around the phone as she stared at the message. She could practically hear Lila's voice—playful on the surface but laced with the unmistakable sting of hurt underneath.
I deserve that… I left her hanging for too long. But at least she replied. At least she still wants to talk, I guess.
Bingo typed quickly, her fingers almost tripping over the keyboard:
"Alright cool! Just shoot me a text or call me when you're free! Please! I miss you!"
She frowned, reading it over. Her ears twitched as she muttered under her breath, "Nah, that sounds way too desperate…" With a sigh, she highlighted the last part and deleted it.
Her eyes narrowed at the screen as she retyped:
"Alright! Just text/call me when you're free."
Better. Not perfect, but better.
She hovered over the "Send" button, her thumb lingering as doubt started creeping in. What if this still came off wrong? What if Lila didn't answer at all?
"Just send the damn thing." she muttered.
Taking a breath, she tapped the button and watched the message disappear. The room felt oddly quiet, save for the faint buzz of her nerves. She placed the phone face down on the coffee table, as if not looking at it might somehow speed up Lila's reply.
Please don't leave me on read.
Ding!
Her phone dinged, pulling her from her anxious thoughts. Bingo's heart skipped a beat as she flipped the phone over. The message from Lila lit up the screen:
"Okay! We've got a lot to talk about… I missed you though. I'm a little mad at you."
Bingo let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, though her chest still felt tight. I don't blame her, she thought, her ears drooping slightly.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, typing and deleting her reply several times before finally settling on:
"I'm sorry… I'll make it up to you, I promise."
She hit send, her stomach twisting as she waited for Lila's response.
Ding!
Another message came through:
"You better! Most people would've stopped talking to you by now! But I'm not most people, am I? Something told me to just wait, and I was right… But seriously, I'll call you later."
Bingo smiled faintly, shaking her head. That's so Lila. she thought, her chest feeling a little lighter.
Guess I'm lucky she's not 'most people,'" Bingo muttered under her breath, setting the phone down. She leaned back on the couch, staring at the ceiling.
I'll make things right. Somehow, I'll fix this.
But that thought only lingered for a second before the weight of everything else came crashing back down. Her eyes flicked to her work phone sitting among the scattered papers.
No time to dwell. Back to business.
She picked up the phone, scrolling through her contacts until she reached Havoc. With a quick tap, she called him.
The line clicked, and Havoc's familiar voice greeted her. "What's up, Knives?"
"Hey," Bingo began, her tone steady. "I'm thinking tonight's the night we do some digging. Nyx's strip club—he's bound to have people there. Maybe even intel."
Havoc let out a low laugh. "Oh yeah, the strip club... Sure this is about the mission? Or are you just looking for a good time?"
Bingo rolled her eyes. "You know damn well why I'm going there, Havoc. If you can't keep it professional, I'll just hit it solo."
"Relax, I'm just messing with you." Havoc replied, his voice tinged with amusement. Then it shifted to something more serious. "Nyx keeps his inner circle tight, but there's no way his people don't let something slip if we poke around."
"Exactly," Bingo said, nodding even though he couldn't see her. "We need to play it smart, though. No distractions. In and out."
"Got it. But, uh, you do realize you're asking me to hit up a strip club and not get distracted, right?"
"Guess you'll have to work on your self-control."
He laughed again, the sound sharp and amused. "Fine. Nine o'clock, right? Let's rattle some cages."
"Be ready," Bingo said before hanging up, her focus already shifting back to the scattered files.
Nyx won't know what hit him.
9:30 PM.
Bingo and Havoc stepped through the dimly lit entrance of Sin & Smoke, the strip club Nyx owned and operated. The pulsing bass of the music hit them like a physical force, vibrating through the floor beneath their boots. Smoke hung thick in the air, mingling with the overpowering scents of cheap cologne and alcohol. Neon lights flickered in shades of red and purple, casting an unholy glow over the room.
Playboys leaned against the bar or crowded near the stages, their eyes glued to the half-naked women performing on poles. The dancers moved with practiced grace, their sequined outfits glinting under the strobe lights. Above, the second floor loomed like a dark balcony, its private VIP rooms partially obscured behind velvet curtains. Bartenders worked frantically, pouring drinks as if their lives depended on it.
Bingo scanned the scene with a disgusted scowl, This wasn't her idea of a good night—or even a tolerable one. She folded her arms, muttering to Havoc, "I feel like I need a shower just standing here."
Havoc chuckled softly, his voice low. "What'd you expect from Nyx? Guy's whole persona screams sleaze."
"Yeah, well," Bingo said, her eyes sweeping the room with a mixture of disdain and focus, "sleazy or not, this place probably holds a ton of intel. We just have to dig it out without blowing our cover."
"Got a plan?" Havoc asked, his gaze now fixated on the second floor, where a few bouncers stood like statues, eyeing the crowd below.
Bingo nodded, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "We split up. You take the second floor, and see what you can overhear. I'll work this floor and try to get someone talking. But keep it low-key. The last thing we need is to tip off Nyx that we're here."
"Good deal," Havoc agreed with a nod, already moving toward the staircase. "Try not to punch anyone unless you have to, yeah?"
Bingo rolled her eyes. "I'll behave. You just stay out of trouble."
As Havoc headed upstairs, Bingo turned her attention back to the main floor. Her sharp eyes moved over the crowd, taking in every detail: the clusters of people whispering in corners, the shadowy figures slipping into private rooms, the bartenders who seemed to know more than they let on.
Time to get to work.
Havoc's POV
Havoc entered the second floor, immediately assaulted by the stench of alcohol and cigarettes. Neon lights splashed across the room, dancers twisting on poles while drunken patrons gawked and cheered.
Christ, this floor is just as bad as the one below.
He clenched his jaw, pushing through the crowd until he reached the bar. Leaning on the counter, he flagged down the bartender and ordered a shot of whiskey. He needed the burn.
If I'm gonna find anything useful about Nyx, I'm gonna have to grit my teeth and play along with this hellhole.
As he nursed the drink, lost in thought, a slurred voice broke through his focus.
"H-Hey there, hiccup, what's a pretty boy like yourself doing here all alone?"
Havoc turned his head, leveling a cold stare at the Chihuahua wobbling next to him. The mutt's fur was a mess, his eyes bloodshot, and he reeked of smoke and cheap liquor.
"Usually, if someone's alone at a bar, they want to stay alone." Havoc muttered, his tone sharp enough to cut.
The Chihuahua grinned sloppily, unfazed. "Oh, an American? That accent's kinda hot... Why don't we head to my V.I.P. room? Got a real comfy bed."
I swear to God, Knives better not be dealing with creeps like this. Havoc stared at him for a beat, mind racing. Wait. If he's this drunk, maybe he's overheard something. And if we're alone… I can make him talk.
The idea made his skin crawl, but Havoc forced a smile and leaned in slightly. "I think you're pretty hot too." The words tasted like acid. "Why not? Let's have some fun~"
The Chihuahua whooped like he'd won the lottery, grabbing Havoc by the arm and tugging him toward the back hallway. Patrons stumbled through the corridor, doors slammed shut, and muffled voices and music vibrated through the walls.
This place is disgusting.
The Chihuahua unlocked a door, practically dragging Havoc inside the private room. It wasn't luxurious—cheap velvet on the walls, a rumpled bed, and an ashtray overflowing on the nightstand.
"Now let's—"
Before the Chihuahua could finish, Havoc struck. Grabbing the drunk by the collar, he hurled him onto the bed and climbed on top, pinning him down.
"Whoa there, mate, shouldn't we take our clothes off first?"
Havoc didn't dignify that with an answer. In one smooth motion, he pulled the combat knife from his boot and pressed the cold blade against the Chihuahua's throat.
The dog's drunken grin vanished instantly, replaced with wide-eyed terror, scared shitless.
"Listen, you fuck," Havoc growled, his voice low and lethal. The combat knife gleamed under the dim light as he pressed its edge just enough to indent the Chihuahua's throat. "I didn't come here for a good time. I want dirt on Nyx. A guy like you can afford this room, which means you've got ears in places that matter."
The Chihuahua's bloodshot eyes darted around the room as he tried to squirm away. "I-I don't know what you're talkin' about!"
Havoc tilted his head, unimpressed. "Wrong answer." He let the blade slide ever so slightly, dragging it just enough to bite into the skin. The Chihuahua yelped, a thin line of blood blooming under the steel.
"G-God! Okay! Okay, man!" The Chihuahua's breath hitched, tears streaking his filthy fur. "A couple of days ago—I swear, I was in the back alley, alright? B-bangin' some chick—"
Havoc resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Get to the point."
"I-I heard Nyx, alright?! He was talkin' to someone about a meeting. A private one. Here. A couple days from now. That's all I know, I swear! Please, p-please don't kill me!"
Havoc paused, his knife still hovering an inch too close to the Chihuahua's jugular. He studied the pathetic excuse for a dog beneath him—the stammering voice, the shaking hands, the piss-stained fear pooling on the floor.
He smiled. It wasn't kind. "Don't worry. I won't kill you."
Relief flashed across the Chihuahua's face—until Havoc yanked him upright by the scruff of his neck and slammed him against the door. He leaned in close, knife dancing just below the mutt's eye.
"Now listen carefully," Havoc said, voice dropping into a soft, dangerous rasp. "We're gonna walk out of this room like nothing happened. You're gonna keep that slobbering mouth of yours shut. And if I find out you told anyone about this? I'll blow your dick off with a .44 and send the rest of you to your mama in a goddamn shoebox.. You got that?"
The Chihuahua's head bobbed furiously, his breathing ragged. "Y-Yeah! I-I got it! I swear!"
Havoc shoved him toward the door. The Chihuahua stumbled out, face pale and feet unsteady. Havoc's gaze dropped to the carpet, where a dark stain was spreading.
Jesus Christ. Pissed himself. What a waste..
Sheathing his knife, Havoc wiped his hands on his pants and turned toward the hallway.
Time to find Knives. Hopefully, she's having a better time than I am.
Bingo's POV
The strip club pulsed with neon lights and sweat-drenched chaos. Music thumped like a heartbeat, vibrating through the floor beneath her boots. Around her, drunk patrons leered, dancers twirled on poles, and guards loomed like shadows. It stank of alcohol, desperation, and smoke—exactly the kind of place the underground thrived in.
Bingo's eyes landed on a Great Dane near the edge of a crowd, his arms crossed as he stood watch. Black shirt. Red trim. Black Widow colors. The idiot wasn't even subtle about it.
She slid up beside him, blending into the onlookers staring at a coyote woman spinning onstage, graceful as a predator. Bingo's posture was casual, her voice light. "She's a good dancer, isn't she?"
"Yeah, she is," the guard grunted, not looking her way. "Owner knows how to pick his girls, that's for damn sure."
Bingo nodded, shifting her stance just slightly to close the gap. "Bet he does. I've heard a lot about this place—good things. One of the best joints in Melbourne, yeah?"
The Dane scoffed, pride evident in his tone. "You're not wrong."
"But y'know.." Bingo continued, as though she was talking about the weather, "It's strange, innit? Boss owns a club this good, yet he's never around. Seems a bit hands-off for a guy in charge."
The guard's shoulders tensed ever so slightly. "Yeah, well… boss has other priorities. Other businesses. He's busy."
He's dancing around it. Bingo's lip curled faintly, her tone sharpening. "Must be. Especially when he's tied up with the Black Widows."
That got his attention. His head snapped toward her, brows furrowing. "What did you just say?"
Bingo didn't look at him—yet. She let him stew for a beat, her gaze still on the dancer. "I said, you don't have to bullshit me, mate. I know the colors you're wearin'. I'm from the underground too. So, let's skip the crap, yeah? When does your boss come in?"
"Who's asking?" He scanned her from head to toe. The moment recognition dawned in his eyes, his expression faltered. "Wait… you're—"
Before he could finish, Bingo moved. Smooth. Quiet. The tip of her combat knife slipped just under his ribcage, barely breaking through the fabric of his suit. His breath hitched, his face paling as he looked down.
Now she turned to face him, her gaze like ice. Her voice dropped, low and lethal. "Yeah, mate. You know who I am." She angled the blade just enough to remind him who held control. "So here's what's gonna happen. You're gonna tell me what you know about Nyx. Quietly. You try anything stupid—call for help, make a scene—I'll gut you right here and toss your insides onstage for the crowd to cheer at.. Understand?"
The guard swallowed hard. "Alright, alright… don't stab me, okay? I just got this suit."
"Talk."
He exhaled shakily, his forced calm betraying the sweat collecting at his brow. "Look… word is, the boss is comin' through in a couple of days. New Year's Day. Said somethin' about meeting a big contact here. That's all I know, I swear."
Bingo's expression didn't change, but she eased the blade back just slightly. "Good boy. Now, stay right where you are for a few minutes, keep your eyes on the dancer, and don't you dare turn around." She smiled faintly, though it was anything but kind. "I'd hate to stain that nice suit."
The Dane gave a shaky nod, his hands clenched into fists to keep from trembling.
Bingo pocketed her knife, moving through the crowd as though nothing had happened…
Sometime later.
Bingo sat at the bar on the first floor, a drained beer bottle sitting in front of her, beads of condensation dripping lazily onto the counter. She rolled it between her fingers absentmindedly, her sharp eyes scanning the room from beneath the brim of her cap.
The bar was alive with noise—low chatter, clinking glasses, and the hum of music bleeding through the floors above. It smelled like stale smoke and cheap cologne, but it wasn't the worst place Bingo had been in tonight.
Havoc slid onto the stool next to her, his movements deliberate and unhurried. They didn't look at each other. Two lone hunters that blended into the background.
"What did you find?" Bingo broke the silence, her voice low enough that only Havoc could hear.
"Some scumbag let it slip there's a meeting."
Bingo didn't look surprised. "Being held here in a few days… Yeah, I figured as much." She tilted her head, finally glancing at him. "How'd you squeeze that out of someone?"
Havoc huffed a short, humorless laugh. "Guy was desperate to bang me. I had to play the part."
That made Bingo arch an eyebrow, her lips twitching with amusement. "And?"
"And no, I didn't do anything with him," Havoc muttered quickly, catching the look she was giving him.
Bingo smirked, leaning her forearms on the bar. "Never pegged you for the 'gay' type, mate."
"Shut up, I was playing a part." Havoc shot back, though the faintest ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Smartass." He shifted in his seat, his tone returning to business. "So I'm guessing you know the same thing I do."
"Yeah," Bingo replied, spinning the empty beer bottle on the counter with a flick of her fingers. "But I've got the date locked down—New Year's Day."
Havoc's brow furrowed. "New Year's?"
"That's when Nyx is showing up for the meeting," she clarified. Her tone hardened, cool, and focused. "We'll strike then. If we play this right, we can take him out."
Havoc let that hang for a beat, rubbing a hand across his jaw as he thought it over. "Sounds like a plan… but don't you think this place is going to be crawling with his guys? Packed tighter than a sardine can."
Bingo shot him a look, all sharp-edged confidence. "Since when has that been a problem?"
Havoc leaned back in his seat, smirking faintly. "You just love trouble, don't you?"
"Can't help it." she quipped, her grin quick and dangerous. She turned to face him fully now, her voice dropping. "In the meantime, we gather more intel. Figure out who Nyx is meeting with, and what kind of 'goods' are on the table. If we're walking into a firestorm, I want to know how many flames we're dealing with."
Havoc studied her for a moment, his smile fading into something serious. "Alright. I'll shake the trees, see what falls out. Just don't go pulling some hero shit, Knives. I'm not dragging your corpse out of here."
Bingo rolled her eyes, tossing a few bills onto the bar as she stood. "Relax. I'm not planning on dying before the fireworks."
She walked off, the empty bottle rattling on the counter as she brushed past. Havoc watched her go, shaking his head.
She's going to get us both killed one day.
But even as he thought it, he smiled faintly and signaled for a drink.
…
Bingo navigated the upstairs portion of the club, where the air felt heavier—thicker with expensive cologne, cigarette smoke, and the promise of exclusivity. The VIP section loomed ahead, guarded by a hulking Saint Bernard in a black suit that strained against his broad frame. His expression was stern, though his eyes betrayed a faint boredom.
Perfect.
"Hey there, big guy…" Bingo cooed, striding up to him with a confidence that didn't quite match the fake innocence in her voice. She fluttered her lashes and tilted her head, putting on a smile that felt as fake as the perfume lingering in the air. "You must get so stressed standing there all night. I mean, nothing to do but watch the clock tick, yeah?"
The Saint Bernard grunted, his curiosity piqued as he gave her a once-over. "Go on, then. What're you getting at?"
Bingo leaned in slightly, voice dropping just enough to make him listen closer. "I'm saying I could help you pass the time." She trailed her hand lightly down his bicep, fighting back a grimace at her own act. "How about a little personal audition? I mean…" She smirked, low and sultry. "I'd make a great worker here."
The guard hesitated for only a moment before scanning the area. His smirk matched hers, predatory and stupid. "Well then, let's see what you've got." He jerked his head toward one of the private rooms, motioning for her to follow.
Men will really do anything to get laid... are they this stupid?
Bingo's fake smile stayed plastered on as she followed him in, her steps calm but measured. The room was dimly lit, just enough for a flickering red light to dance across the walls. The Saint Bernard slumped into a leather chair, spreading his legs as if he already owned her. His thick hands gripped her waist, yanking her onto his lap as she straddled him.
Bingo stiffened internally as his hands slid lower, one resting smugly on her ass. She fought the urge to retch.
"Go on, love," he ordered, his grin splitting wide. "Give me a show."
Her smile dropped like a mask hitting the floor.
"Oh, I'll give you a show alright.." she muttered darkly.
Before the Saint Bernard could blink, cold steel glinted in her hand—a combat knife pressing firmly against his throat. The sudden shift in her demeanor was like ice spreading through the room. Her eyes were cold and sharp, locking onto his as if daring him to move.
"If you scream.." she whispered, voice low and calm, "I'll slit your throat before the first sound leaves your mouth."
The guard froze, his confidence evaporating into sheer panic. His chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, the tip of the knife biting just enough to prick the skin.
"Now.." Bingo continued, her tone still casual, though her grip on the knife was deadly steady. "I know your boss—Nyx—is meeting someone on New Year's Day. I want to know who and why."
"I—I don't know anything!" he stammered, sweat forming at his temples.
Bingo tilted her head with an exaggerated yawn. "Wrong answer." She pressed the blade closer, a thin line of blood trickling down his neck.
"Shit! Okay, okay!" he croaked, his voice cracking as fear overtook him. "He's meeting up with some handlers. The guys who run everything—drugs, weapons, women…It's big business, okay? A huge deal!" He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing against the blade. "That's all I know—I swear it."
Bingo stared at him for a long moment, letting the silence twist into something unbearable. Then, finally, she eased the knife back, her expression unreadable. "Good boy."
The Saint Bernard let out a shaky exhale, relief coloring his face.
"Now listen up," Bingo said, still perched on his lap like she owned the room. Her voice dropped to a low growl. "If you breathe a word about this little encounter to anyone—anyone—I'll hunt you down. I'll carve you up so slow you'll beg for me to finish the job…"
The Saint Bernard nodded frantically. "I won't—I won't say anything. Promise."
"Smart choice." Bingo rose smoothly to her feet, wiping the blade of her knife against his suit jacket with casual disdain. As she turned toward the door, she glanced over her shoulder to find his hands still hovering in the air, unsure what to do. They were trembling.
She rolled her eyes. "And get your filthy hands off me next time, yeah?" She slapped one of his hands away for good measure, making him flinch. "Now get out. Walk out like nothing happened."
The Saint Bernard scrambled to his feet, stumbling past her and bolting through the door like a frightened puppy. Bingo stood still for a moment, listening to the sound of his heavy footsteps fading into the hallway.
She sighed, sliding the knife back into its sheath. "Men are so predictable," she muttered, shaking her head.
Straightening her jacket, Bingo stepped back into the hallway, the cold professionalism settling back over her like armor.
Drugs.. Weapons.. and Trafficking yeah..? Interesting crowd he's meeting with.
Knives strode back down to the first floor, the murmur of voices and pounding bass from the speakers washing over her as she made her way to the bar. Havoc looked up from his drink, his eyebrows raising in surprise as he spotted her.
"Oh, hey Knives. Back so soon?"
"Yeah," she said casually, leaning her elbows on the bar with a smug grin. "When the men here are so easy to fool, you get what you need to know pretty quickly."
"Uh-huh," Havoc replied, his tone a blend of curiosity and amusement as he nodded. "Alright, so what'd you find out?"
"Nyx is meeting up with some people for a deal. Weapons, women, drugs. You know, the usual smorgasbord of illegal shit." Her voice was low but confident, the hint of a smirk still playing on her lips.
"Damn," Havoc muttered, leaning forward and resting his chin in his palm as he thought. "If it's gonna be that big, then there's gonna be a lot of dogs around. We've got to figure out how to get the jump on him without biting off more than we can chew."
"I was thinking the same thing," she replied, idly drumming her fingers on the bar as her mind worked. "By the way, you think the guys we interrogated earlier are gonna keep their mouths shut?"
"Well," Havoc said, smirking slightly, "Considering I threatened to blow one guy's dick off, I'd hope so."
Knives shot him a wicked grin, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Yeah, you would think about blowing a guy, wouldn't you?"
He groaned, dragging a hand down his face in exasperation. "Sigh… not that kind of blowing, Knives."
She laughed, a sharp, unapologetic sound, as Havoc shook his head. Despite the banter, the two quickly settled into planning, their conversation shifting to ideas and strategies for the next move. Havoc leaned in closer, sketching out a rough outline of possibilities while Knives picked apart each suggestion, sharpening the edges of their plan.
About fifteen minutes in, a faint buzzing sound cut through the din of the club.
Bzzt. Bzzt.
Knives furrowed her brow, glancing down at her phone. Her stomach sank as the name flashed on the screen. Lila.
Fuck! I forgot she was gonna call me later! Damn it, Bingo, you're really on top of things tonight, aren't you? She rubbed her temple, annoyed at herself for letting this slip her mind.
"Someone important?" Havoc asked, noticing her hesitation.
Bingo sighed, slipping her phone into her palm. "Yeah… very important," she said, her tone softer than usual. "We'll finish this later. I've gotta bounce." She stood, slipping her jacket back over her shoulders. "Text me if you come up with anything, alright?"
"Copy," Havoc said with a small nod, watching her carefully.
"Alrighty, American boy." she teased with a smirk, throwing the jab over her shoulder as she walked away. Havoc just shook his head, his mouth twitching in the faintest hint of a grin.
The heavy beat of the music followed her out of the strip club, muffled slightly as she pushed open the door and stepped into the warm night air. She finally answered the call, pressing the phone to her ear. "Hello? Lila?"
"Hey, stranger." Lila's voice came through the line, warm and familiar. On the other end, the 20-year-old Maltese was sitting cross-legged in her childhood bedroom, surrounded by soft lamplight and the faint strains of Christmas music playing in the background. The nostalgic warmth of the scene was a stark contrast to the world Bingo had just stepped out of.
"Is… is that music I hear?" Lila asked after a pause. "Are you in a club or something?"
Bingo winced slightly, glancing back at the glowing neon lights of the strip club behind her. She knew Lila wouldn't judge, but lying by omission had become second nature. "Uh… yeah, something like that. It's… complicated."
"Well, it's good to hear from you, finally. I was starting to think you were dodging me." Lila's voice held a playful note, but Bingo could hear the faintest undercurrent of something else—concern, maybe? Loneliness?
Bingo sighed, a soft smile tugging at her lips despite herself. "Yeah… sorry about that. Things have been a bit crazy lately."
"I figured." Lila's voice softened. "You always seem to have something going on. But, you know, you can talk to me, right? Whatever it is."
Bingo hesitated, her grip on the phone tightening. For a fleeting moment, she wanted to spill everything—to confess to the double life, the blood on her hands, the weight that seemed to crush her more with every passing day. She wanted to admit how much she missed the simplicity of the days when they were just two carefree kids laughing about stupid jokes. But she swallowed the urge, burying it deep like she always did.
"Yeah," she said finally, her voice quieter, almost subdued. "I know."
"Riiight." Lila replied, her tone skeptical but still laced with concern. She sighed audibly on the other end, and Bingo could almost picture her shaking her head, frustration and worry mingling on her face. "Bingo… what's been happening this past year? You've ghosted me, and now you've come back, someone completely different than what I knew before. Is everything alright over there in Melbourne? … are you alright?"
Bingo felt her heart sink, a pang of guilt tightening her chest.
Damn… I really didn't have to leave Lila in the dark… some best friend you are, Bingo.
She took a breath, forcing herself to keep her voice steady, even as the weight of the question pressed on her. "Things are… fine, Lila," she said, though the words sounded hollow even to her. She winced slightly at how unconvincing it sounded, the lie wobbling on shaky legs. Things were far from fine—not even close. But she had to keep playing the part, the illusion that everything was normal, that she was still the Bingo Lila remembered. "It's just that… with my new job, things have been picking up, and… it's been hard to manage a lot, you know?"
Lila was silent for a moment, and Bingo could almost hear her trying to piece things together, her best friend always sharper than she let on. "I get that," Lila said eventually, though her tone wasn't completely convincing. "But Bingo, we're friends. You can't just leave me in the dark like you did. Best friends forever, remember?"
Bingo closed her eyes, the phrase hitting her like a gut punch. "Oh, man…" she muttered under her breath, her free hand rubbing the back of her neck. She turned the corner down the alley next to the club, her boots scraping against the pavement as she sought some semblance of privacy.
"I mean it, Bingo," Lila continued, her voice softer now, almost pleading. "You can tell me anything. You used to tell me everything. But now… now it feels like you're a million miles away, even when we're on the phone like this." She paused, the weight of her next words hanging between them. "What happened to you?"
The question cut deeper than Bingo expected. She leaned against the cool brick wall, staring up at the night sky as her mind raced. She wanted to tell her. She really did. But how could she? How could she explain the blood, the bodies, the secrets she carried? How could she tell Lila that her best friend wasn't the same girl she grew up with—that she was now Knives, a rising star in a brutal world of violence and death?
Her throat tightened as she swallowed the truth again, burying it under layers of guilt and shame. "Nothing happened, Lila," she said finally, forcing a small laugh that felt like shards of glass in her chest. "I guess I've just… grown up. You know how life is—jobs, responsibilities, bills. The boring adult stuff."
"Bingo…" Lila's voice was firm, cutting through the excuse like a knife. "This isn't about you growing up. Something's wrong. I can hear it in your voice. And I'm not going to push you, but… just know that I'm here, okay? Whenever you're ready to talk, I'm here."
The sincerity in her voice made Bingo's chest ache. She clenched her jaw, her hand gripping the phone tightly as she wrestled with her emotions. "Thanks, Lila," she said quietly. "I mean it."
"Don't thank me, Bingo. Just… don't shut me out again, okay? I'm here for you. And if you do shut me out, I swear I'll come over there and kick your butt!" Lila's voice was half-serious, half-teasing, but the concern underneath was unmistakable.
Bingo chuckled, stepping out of the alleyway and toward her car parked under a dim streetlight. "Okay, okay. I'll try to keep in touch more. Happy?"
"I'll believe it when I see it," Lila replied, a smile audible in her tone. "But yeah, that's a start. Now… let's just chat, okay? I've missed this."
Bingo hesitated, unlocking her car door and sliding into the driver's seat. For a moment, the silence between them stretched. "How are you doing? Mentally, I mean?" Lila asked, her voice softer now, the weight of her question lingering in the air.
You wouldn't wanna know, girl. The thought flashed through Bingo's mind, but she swallowed it down. "Could be better," she said simply, starting the engine. The truth was more complicated, more jagged, but she wasn't ready to unload it all—not yet.
"That's fair," Lila said after a pause. "But, hey, I'm here when you're ready. You don't have to do everything alone, you know."
Bingo grunted softly, her grip on the wheel tightening. "Yeah… I know," she murmured.
The drive home passed quickly as the two continued to talk, the conversation meandering through lighter topics—memories of their childhood, jokes about Lila's coworkers, and updates about Bingo's family. By the time Bingo parked outside her apartment building, the familiar ache in her chest had eased just a little.
"You still there?" Lila asked after a moment, her voice slightly muffled, like she'd shifted in bed.
"Yeah, still here." Bingo said, grabbing her things and stepping out of the car. She locked it behind her and made her way up the stairs, her phone balanced between her ear and shoulder. "Just heading inside now."
She unlocked her apartment door, the familiar click of the lock echoing softly in the dim hallway. Bingo kicked it shut behind her, the noise a little louder than usual as the weight of her exhaustion settled in. Tossing her keys onto the counter, she let out a long breath, like she was shedding the day. She plopped onto the couch, boots leaving faint scuffs on the floor as she stretched out. The cushions sunk beneath her, and for the first time all evening, she felt her muscles ease.
"Alright," she sighed, her voice low and tired, but there was something almost content in it. "Are you comfortable yet, or do you need me to tuck you in too?"
Lila's laughter crackled through the phone, familiar and warm. "Shut up, you dork. But seriously, you sound tired."
"Yeah, I'm a little worn out," Bingo admitted, staring up at the ceiling, letting her eyes drift over the shadows cast by the streetlight outside. The apartment felt a little too quiet, too empty, but it wasn't in the suffocating way it had been earlier. Now, it was just… home. "But it's not the worst thing. Talking to you helps."
She glanced around her place, the faint ticking of the wall clock punctuating the silence. The low hum of the fridge, the soft click of the thermostat adjusting, and Lila's voice on the other end were the only things filling the space. There was a sense of relief in it, in the small sounds, the stillness that wasn't quite as hollow. She let her eyes rest for a moment, catching the glow of her phone screen. "Thanks for calling, Lila… I think I needed it."
"Always," Lila's voice softened, but Bingo could hear the care there, the unspoken understanding that passed between them, thick with history. "So… anything else on your mind?"
Bingo leaned back, stretching her legs out across the couch, her hand dragging over her face as if she could rub away the weight that clung to her skin. She hesitated. "Not much," she murmured, the words coming out too easily. She was dodging it again, avoiding what she didn't want to talk about—avoiding the feelings that were too tangled, too sharp. "What about you? Still dating that guy who can't tell the difference between gin and vodka?"
Lila let out a dramatic groan, the sound clear even through the phone. "God, don't remind me!" Bingo could hear the laughter in Lila's voice as she continued, her words laced with a playful frustration. "That was a year ago… he and I don't even talk anymore! God, that guy was a weirdo…"
"Well, you did have a crush on him. You wouldn't shut up about the man—" Bingo grinned, even though she knew Lila couldn't see it. "And now here you are, single again."
"Shut up…" Lila's voice came out a little quieter, but Bingo could hear the embarrassed fondness in it, like she wasn't sure if she should laugh or roll her eyes.
"Well… ya gonna tell me more about that situation or what?" Bingo asked, her tone teasing but softer now, easing into the rhythm of the conversation. It was familiar, and comfortable—like slipping into a pair of shoes that always fit. The hours slipped by, weaving in and out of lighthearted stories, updates, and small exchanges that didn't require much more than their presence.
As the night deepened, Bingo could feel herself unwinding, the weight of the day beginning to slide off her shoulders. The quiet between them grew softer, both of them speaking less, but still staying connected. Lila's words became more distant, her voice becoming a hum in the background. Bingo let her eyes flutter closed, sinking deeper into the couch while letting the phone rest against her ear.
"You still there, Lila?" Bingo mumbled, sleep creeping into her voice. Her eyes were half-closed now, the warmth of her apartment mixing with the exhaustion that clung to her like a second skin.
"Yeah," Lila replied, her voice distant and thick with sleep, but still there. "Don't hang up, okay?"
"I won't," Bingo whispered back, her words slurring with the weight of sleep, the connection between them so solid it almost felt like a promise.
They didn't say anything more. There didn't need to be any more words. The silence stretched out, but it wasn't uncomfortable—just the kind of peaceful quiet that comes from being with someone who understands. Bingo's breathing slowed, becoming steady, and soon, the phone was the only thing tethering them to the waking world.
And there they stayed. Their connection unbroken, even as they drifted off into the quiet of the night, the only sound was the soft hum of the city outside Bingo's window, the steady beat of their hearts, and the gentle whispers of their shared space.
….