The City That Took him

FLASHBACK - A few days before

“You are not going to a school halfway across the country,” said Dad. “Why not?” I asked. “Because you’re broken,” he said, “you tried to kill yourself a year ago.”

My chest tightened. “Because of you!” I yelled. “Because you have never talked about Mom after her death. You never talk. You work, come home, and lock yourself in your room. You never ask me how I’m doing ever.”

He stared down at his plate and fiddled with his fork. “See, you’re shutting me out now,” I said. “You can’t look at me.” When he didn’t respond, I turned and stormed upstairs. I threw everything into my bags - clothes, computer, and anything that mattered. I paused long enough to gather pictures.

By the time I came back downstairs, he was standing at the door. “I forbid you to leave,” he said. I met his eyes, jaw clenched. “I’m fucking leaving,” I said.

Present Day

I woke up exhausted like I hadn’t slept at all. That fight has been replaying in my head, stuck on a loop. But today is not about him. Today is Westview’s orientation day, featuring campus tours, food trucks, music, and an overly enthusiastic staff.

I pulled myself out of bed, did my hair and makeup, then threw on my favourite jeans and a white tank top, with a small sweater over it. Simple and presentable.

I moved to Westbridge for a fresh start, and Westview University was supposed to be it. My choice.

When I reached the main square, it was humming with energy. Booths were set up. People passed out fliers and schedules. Music floated through the air, mixing with noise and chatter.

A man steps up to the podium on the main stage. “Welcome, new students, to Westview University. I’m Dean Steven Walker, and I am honoured to have all of you here. Before we start things off, please welcome Westbridge’s police Chief Chris Barns for a brief word about the city,” said Steven.

A tall man walked up to the podium. “Hello, students,” he said. “I’m Chief Barns. Our city, Westbridge, is divided into two major districts. The West side is where the university is located, and the East side has a higher rate of criminal activity. Between them is a heavily monitored bridge. When you travel in the city, it is strongly advised to carry your student ID.”

A student spoke softly behind me. “This is crazy”

“Yeah, I know,” I uttered back. She smiled. “I’m Brianna”

“I’m Charlotte,” I said as I offered my hand. “You can call me Char”

“What are you studying?” She asked. “Bachelor of Science, you?” I asked. “Same,” she said. “Are you staying in on campus?” I asked. “I’m in Briar Hall,” she said. “You?”

“I’m in the Eastview residence,” I said. Her brows lifted. “Isn’t that the one near the bridge? I heard that residents get caught in the crossfire between the gangs,” she said. “I got accepted late.” I shrugged.

After the orientation and campus tour, I picked up my class schedule. Most of my lectures were in Langston Hall, and my lab classes were at the Edison Research Centre.

I went to the bookstore next, grabbing the textbooks that were needed for the semester.

Arms full and mind already charged with logistics. I was halfway back to my dorm when I crashed into someone hard.

“Watch it,” a voice snapped. “I’m sorry,” I said quickly, crouching down to gather my books. When I looked up, my breath caught. He was tall, with dark hair, darker eyes, and a viper tattoo that ran up his neck and ended at his throat.

He held out one of my textbooks. “Thanks,” I said, taking it from his hand. The brush of our fingers was electric.

Without another word, I turned and headed into the Eastview residence. I paused at the front desk to pull out my college ID, briefly setting my books down. When I looked back, he was still there. Just standing there watching me.

I picked up my books without another word and went through the doors, pretending I wasn’t shaken.

When I got into my room, my roommate was there. “Hi, I’m Lexi,” she said. “I’m Charlotte - but call me Char,” I said. “What are you studying?” She asks. “Bachelor of Science, you?” I spoke. “Bachelor of Photography,” she said.

She flopped onto her bed and grinned. “Since classes don’t start until Wednesday, do you want to explore the city? Maybe find a bar,” she said. “Sure,” I said. “That sounds fun,” I added.

We went to the Oldes Bell Row with cobblestone paths, trendy bars and cafes, and an old library that looked like something out of a movie.

After that, we took a short walk to The Grove, a more modern area full of sleek apartment buildings. It has influencer energy -young, stylish professionals everywhere you look.

We skipped Northridge, where all the rich people lived, behind gates and security cameras, cut off from the rest of the city.

“We explored most of the Westside,” she said as we stopped for coffee. “I wondered what Eastside is like.” I mused.

“We can go to a bar close to the bridge,” she said with a cheeky look. So, we crossed it into the East side.

We entered a bar called The Dive on the Crossline, a block away from Larkspur Station. The building is an old brick façade that still bears bullet holes - framed like artwork, a grim history.

Inside, the space is divided by a simple, barely noticeable line into two. Carmelo Mafia on one side and Viper gang on the other. The lighting is low, the booths deep, and the shadows deeper. Two bars sit at opposite ends of the room, and a narrow stage runs between them, claimed by neither side. It was packed, likely from the flood of new students.

“Hey, ladies, what can I get you?” asked the bartender. “Two vodka cranberries,” I said. Lexi and I grabbed two seats at the bar, chatting between sips.

We were just settling in when I noticed the guy from earlier with the throat tattoo, and our eyes locked. A second passed, then I forced myself to turn back to Lexi, pretending I didn’t feel his stare like a brand on the back of my head.

“I need to use the bathroom,” I mumbled, sliding off the barstool. The hallway was narrow and dim. When I came back, he was there - waiting. “Excuse me,” I said, trying to move past him. He caught my hand. “Allow me to buy you a drink, bunny,” he said. “I’m not your bunny,” I snapped, yanking my arm free. “And no,” I added.

“Leave her,” said another voice - low and cool. This one was dressed differently. Designer everything. Expensive. Dangerous. “We were having a friendly conversation,” said the guy, smirking. “Right, bunny?”

“For the last time, I’m not bunny,” I said. “Char, come on - let’s dance,” said Lexi, appearing behind me and pulling me away.

I went to the bar to get another drink. “Derek, whiskey on the rocks and Vodka cranberry,” he said, following me to the bar. I rolled my eyes at him. “What’s your name, bunny?” He asked. “I’m Charlotte,” I said. “I’m Dante,” he said. We clinked our glasses together.

“You know you’re on the Eastside,” he said. “I’m aware,” I replied. “Clearly, you’re a student. What are you taking?” He asked. “Bachelor of Science,” I said. “Shit, so you’re smart.” He said.

The other man from earlier stepped on my other side. “Is he bothering you, chica?” He asked. “Carlos,” said Dante in a stern voice.

I noticed the tension spike around me, like standing in the middle of a lightning storm. “Stop,” I spoke softly, my eyes darting around the room. “People are watching”

“Hey, you know the rules,” said Derek. I glanced around. Everyone was staring at us. The music had stopped. Voices were hushed.

“Nothing to see here, go back to your business,” Dante said calmly, like he was used to being obeyed.

That’s when I grabbed Lexi and left.

The next day, I was sitting down at my desk studying when I got a call. “Hello?” I said. “Hi, is this Charlotte Mackson?” A man asked.

“Speaking.”

“This is Detective Mark with the Westbridge Police Department. Do you have a brother named Axel?” The man asked. My heart skipped. “I ... I do,” I said, sitting up straighter.

“We believe we found his body. We’ll need you to come down to the station to help identify him.” For a second, I couldn’t breathe. My chest felt tight, like someone had sucked the air out of my body. “I’m on my way,” I said.

At the station, they showed me his face, and it was so decomposed, so far gone, that I didn’t recognize him. My stomach knotted. They took a DNA sample from me to confirm Alex’s identity. “We won’t know anything until we get the DNA results.” Detective Mark mumbled. “I’ve also contacted your father.”

I rolled my eyes. Of course, he will show up for this now. Moments later, I heard heavy footsteps coming down the hall. “What are you doing talking to her?” He asked. “Sir.” The detective replied, holding his own. “We needed a family member’s DNA sample. You weren’t answering when we called.”

“You knew?” I said, staring at my father. “You knew they may have found his body and didn’t care to tell me.”

I turned to the detective. “Did you send my father the autopsy report?”

“Yes”

“I’m taking you home. You can’t be here,” he said, reaching for my arm and pulling me down the hallway. “I’m not leaving!” I yelled, trying to yank free.

“You’re broken.” He snapped. “You can’t be on your own.”

“The only person who is broken is you!” I shouted. “I’m not broken.” He didn’t flinch. Outside, I managed to get my arm out of his grip. “Get in the car,” he ordered. “No.” I said.

“You listen to me.” He hissed. “I’ll take you if I damn well please.” He rushed forward to grab me again.

“I’m not getting in the fucken car!” I yelled. His hand struck my face - sharp, shocking. Everything froze. And then a voice cut through the silence. Calm. Deadly. “You don’t hit women.” We both turned. Dante was standing there a few feet away.

“Who the fuck are you?” My father snapped. “She’s my responsibility now.” His voice is low and even. “She is my daughter. I’ll protect her how I see fit. Get in the car,” said my dad. My hand is pressing against my cheek, skin stinging, tears threatening to fall.

“No,” I breathed. “You heard her,” said Dante. My father didn’t say another word. He just turned and got in his car, tires squealing as he drove off. Dante came closer, and he softened his eyes. “Come on, I’ll take you back,” he said.

But I couldn’t meet his eyes. I was too shaken - too ashamed. Still, when he offered his hand, I didn’t hesitate. I didn’t have the strength to be alone, and he felt steady.

He had a driver waiting at the curb. Without a word, Dante opened the car door and nodded for me to get in. Once we were seated, he leaned forward and gave the address of my dorm.

We sat in silence for a few moments, the air thicken between us.

“Care to explain?” He finally asked. “It’s a long story,” I said. Then he tapped the driver’s seat, and the driver pulled over. “I’ve got time.” He said. I stared down at my hands, fiddling my thumbs together.

“A few years ago, my brother Axel got kicked out of the house. He and his friends started touring clubs by DJing, chasing whatever dream made them feel alive. Two years ago, he went missing. Today I got a phone call from a detective, who said they found his body. My dad knew - and didn’t say a word.”

“What was your brother’s name?” He asked. “Axel.”

“Does your father hit you often?”

I shook my head. “No. Not until today. After my mom died, he just shut down. He hasn’t been the same since.” I said.

Dante reached over, wiping away a tear I didn’t realize had fallen. Then, without hesitation, he pulled me into a hug - warm and firm, like he wasn’t letting go. Just as I exhaled into the quiet, a sudden pop split through the air - then another. Gunshots?

“Shit!” Dante cursed. He shoved me down onto the seat and threw himself over me, covering me with his body. “Drive!” he shouted.

Tires squealed as the car launched forward. I couldn’t move. I just curled up under him, my heart pounding. His arms were the only thing keeping me from falling apart.