A fresh tattoo, a cold revolver, and a blood-red neon alley—discover how far one woman will go to avenge her best friend.
Writer’s Prompt
The neon sign of The Broken Spoke bled crimson across the damp pavement, mirroring the anger pulsing in Nadia Zenapski’s veins. She pulled her trench coat tighter, but nothing could chill the heat radiating from the fresh ink on her forearm. It was a portrait of Jeannie Walters—laughing, vibrant, whole. Before the needle. Before the smoke. Before him.
Nadia slipped into the dim alley behind the club, her hand resting on the cold steel in her pocket. She knew his routine. Victor “The Ghost” Vance always exited through the back door at midnight, counting his blood money. He was the architect of Jeannie’s ruin, the man who turned a bright-eyed girl into a ghost chasing a chemical high.
The heavy metal door groaned open. Victor stepped into the mist, a cigarette dangling from his lips. He looked smaller than he did in Jeannie’s terrified stories, but his eyes were just as dead.
“Victor,” Nadia called out, her voice cutting through the hum of the city traffic.
He turned, a smug sneer forming on his face as he sized her up. “Can I help you, doll?”
Nadia didn’t speak. She slowly rolled up her sleeve, exposing the pristine portrait of Jeannie to the flicker of the alley light. Victor’s eyes darted to the ink, and for a split second, the smugness vanished, replaced by a flicker of recognition—and fear.
She pulled the revolver from her pocket, the barrel catching the neon red glow. Victor reached toward his jacket, his movement a blur.
Finish the Story
Does Nadia pull the trigger and seal her own fate, or does Victor strike first? The final move in this alleyway dance is yours to write. How does the ink dry on Nadia’s vengeance?