Midnight's Return

The cold London air bites at your cheeks as you walk the familiar streets of your neighborhood. Suddenly, the wail of cop sirens shatters the quiet, growing louder behind you. Two police cars. Instinct takes over, and you run, the asphalt blurring beneath your feet, but you know you can't outrun them forever.

After a grueling twenty minutes, you stop, your chest heaving. The police cars box you in. A female officer steps out, handcuffs in hand. "Dabria Smith, you're under arrest for assaulting a man." You chuckle, a dry, humorless sound. He wouldn't take no for an answer. You were nice enough not to kill him.

At the police station, cuffed to a table, you learn your foster father is dead – murdered. By you. Now, they're looking for relatives. You have a Mafia to run, a company to manage, and a life built on secrets. Relatives it is.

An hour later, surrounded by armed cops, Gabriel, the officer, delivers the news: "We found your father, and he'd gladly take you in. You'll have to leave in about 2 hours." Shit.