On this night, the Black Wolf Gang met its end.
It took less than seven minutes.
In that short span of time, the entire gang was wiped out. No one managed to escape. A few desperate souls attempted to flee, but a golden bullet fired from somewhere unseen shattered their hopes, piercing through the thin walls and finding its mark.
Only one person remained alive—Johnny.
Shivering, he hid in the men's restroom of the gang's headquarters, curled up on the toilet seat like a frightened child. His heart pounded wildly in his chest. He couldn't understand how his luck could be this terrible.
That afternoon, everything had started to go wrong. First, a teenager dressed ridiculously in green, looking like he had cerebral palsy, had interrupted a major deal. Johnny had been furious, pulling out a gun to kill the brat right then and there. Somehow, though, the kid had dodged. Johnny would never admit it was because his own marksmanship was poor.
During the chaotic chase that followed, Johnny had encountered two girls. Without thinking, he'd fired at them—killing one. He hadn't cared at the time; life was cheap in Hell's Kitchen. But fate played a cruel hand: the girl he killed had been the daughter of the police chief.
The entire police force had been thrown into an uproar.
Terrified of the consequences, Johnny had sought refuge with his mother's lover, a higher-up in the Black Wolf Gang. He thought if he lay low at their headquarters, he'd survive until the heat died down.
He was wrong.
He hadn't counted on the appearance of the Goddess of Judgment.
The mysterious figure had descended upon the Black Wolf Gang like an angel of death, slaughtering everyone—even his powerful uncle.
Now, sitting on the cold toilet seat, Johnny could only pray. Maybe she wouldn't find him. Maybe, by some miracle, she would miss the restroom.
Tread. Tread. Tread.
The sound of footsteps echoed down the empty hallway, getting closer and closer. Every step made Johnny's heart thud harder in his chest, as if synchronized with the rhythmic stomp.
Each step stole a little more of his hope.
He squeezed his eyes shut, held his breath, and silently begged for mercy.
Bang.
The restroom door burst open, crashing against the wall with a deafening sound. In that moment, Johnny felt as though Death itself had entered the room.
Panic froze him. He couldn't move, couldn't even scream.
"Get out by yourself~~" said a cold, commanding voice.
That voice destroyed any remaining will to resist. Johnny's mind went blank, his body trembling like a leaf. He didn't even dare to question or beg for mercy. His survival instincts kicked in, forcing him to obey.
With shaking hands, he pushed open the stall door.
There she stood—the Goddess of Judgment.
Dressed in her iconic black night suit, she looked like a dark angel. The faint glow of streetlights from outside illuminated her, making her seem almost unreal.
Johnny barely noticed the elegant lines of her suit or her poised posture. His attention was drawn entirely to the ugly, unfeeling barrel of the gun pointed at his chest.
He swallowed hard.
Bella, unmoved by the pathetic figure before her, raised the sleek black pistol, Rose, and calmly aimed at Johnny's forehead.
"You shouldn't have shot that girl~" she said, her voice as soft as a lover's whisper, yet colder than a winter storm.
"W-what?" Johnny stammered.
In that moment, everything clicked.
It wasn't random. It wasn't the Black Wolf Gang that had been the true target.
It was him.
The Goddess of Judgment had come to Hell's Kitchen to find him.
Regret washed over Johnny like a tidal wave. If only he had practiced his aim. If only that stupid kid hadn't ruined his deal. If only he hadn't chased after them so recklessly.
But regrets were useless now.
Bang.
The gunshot echoed in the restroom.
Johnny's body crumpled to the ground, lifeless. The spark of life extinguished in an instant.
Bella holstered her weapon without a second glance. She felt no pity for him. Regret never undid wrongs. If regret could truly absolve evil, there would be no need for law, no need for punishment.
He had hurt someone precious to her. For that, there was only one price to pay.
As she left the restroom, Bella thought briefly of the second-rate thug who had attacked her before—the clumsy teenager in the green outfit. He hadn't died, but she'd left him with a hefty mental scar. Perhaps he'd go mad. Perhaps he'd simply be haunted by nightmares for the rest of his life.
Either way, it was justice.
She stepped lightly down the staircase, her motorcycle helmet swinging casually in her hand.
Outside, the streets were eerily quiet.
Most of the residents of Hell's Kitchen knew better than to stick around when gunfire erupted. Even the braver gangsters had fled the scene, not wanting to cross paths with the Goddess of Judgment.
Only a handful of onlookers remained—the truly fearless, or the truly foolish.
Among them was the tattooed teenage girl who had screamed earlier upon recognizing Bella, along with her boyfriend. The girl's eyes lit up like fireworks the moment she saw Bella exiting the building.
She squealed excitedly and took a few steps forward, clearly wanting an autograph or maybe even a photo.
Her boyfriend, however, grabbed her arm in a panic.
"No! Are you crazy?" he hissed, glancing nervously at the still-smoking gun in Bella's hand.
"But it's the Goddess of Judgment!" she protested.
Despite his terror, her boyfriend reluctantly loosened his grip. He couldn't refuse her—not when she looked at him with those pleading eyes.
Bella chuckled softly under her breath. Teenagers.
She approached her sleek black motorcycle, mounting it gracefully before tossing a glance at the hesitant couple.
"Your little boyfriend is very nice~" Bella said with a sly smile.
"Really?" The girl beamed with pride, even though the compliment had technically been for her boyfriend.
The young man, still visibly shaking, puffed up his chest slightly. Fear or no fear, a compliment from the Goddess of Judgment was no small thing.
Unfortunately for them, no one had thought to record the moment on video.
Bella started the engine, the deep rumble slicing through the silence of the night.
Before she drove off, she cast one last look at a crumbling building across the street. The night sky was too dark to make out anything, but she knew—eyes were always watching in Hell's Kitchen.
Boom.
The motorcycle shot forward, vanishing into the shadows.
___________________________________
Get membership in patreon to read more chapters
Extra chapters available in patreon
patreon.com/Dragonscribe31