Chapter 13: Before the Fire Start
Mid-January 2008 — Two Weeks Later
---
The snow had melted into slush, leaving the sidewalks in Queens gray and slippery. Streetlights flickered by 5 p.m. now, and most folks walked with their heads down, collars up, hands buried in pockets like they were protecting secrets instead of fingers.
Inside a small second-floor apartment, Aria sat at his desk with a pen between his teeth, a notebook open, and five different burner phones laid out in front of him. A map was pinned to the wall—Queens, Brooklyn, the Bronx—marked with thumbtacks and red circles that kept shifting every few days.
A lot had changed in two weeks.
The crew was bigger now. Not by much, but enough. New runners. New routes. More money. More heat.
They still didn't have a name, but they had movement. Presence. People were starting to notice, even if they didn't know what they were noticing yet.
Aria leaned back, stared at the map, and muttered under his breath, "Not enough."
The clock on his phone blinked—10:13 AM.
He stood, grabbed the job folder, and headed out.
---
The Cleaners – Back Room – 10:52 AM
It smelled like sweat, soap, and hot dust—comforting in a weird, broken way.
The crew was gathered. Not everyone, but enough.
Maddox stood near the wall, silent, arms crossed. Jay sat sideways in a chair, legs stretched out like he was daring someone to trip over them. Rizal was by the door, half-hooded and unreadable. Dina, chewing gum with the focus of a sniper, leaned over Tino's shoulder while he counted something in cash. Kwan was flipping through an old city bus schedule. Yara kept cracking her knuckles like it helped her think. Omar stood just inside the room, notebook in hand, trying to blend into the paint.
Aria walked in and dropped the folder on the center table.
"Alright," he said. "We're expanding again. Routes double up starting tomorrow."
Jay blinked. "Double? Bro, I haven't even digested last week's panic."
"You'll manage."
"I'm starting to dream in map pins."
"Then you're finally useful."
That got a small smirk from Dina. Everyone else stayed quiet.
Maddox stepped forward. "We already added four loops last week."
"I know."
"You're pushing."
"Because we need to be pushed."
Maddox stared at him for a long second, then looked away.
Aria flipped the folder open. Job sheets. Payment schedules. Drop routes.
"We need more cash, faster. That's it. That's the reason. Rent's going up. Supply's going thin. Anyone who's not grinding now will be starving by spring."
Jay muttered, "Can't argue with that."
"You won't need to. Just run."
Assignments followed:
Kwan and Dina on the west loop.
Rizal as shadow.
Tino on the drop circuit.
Jay, solo route again.
Yara and Maddox, high-value sweep.
Omar, backup on rotating pickup.
Aria's tone was flat but focused. There was no fire behind the words, just pressure.
Jay raised a hand halfway through. "So, when's this 'intensity phase' end?"
Aria didn't blink. "When we can breathe."
Maddox asked, "And when's that?"
"When I say so."
That was the end of it.
The door thudded shut behind Omar, leaving behind the hum of old pipes and the faint sound of someone dragging a mop in the laundromat out front.
Maddox hadn't moved.
He stayed near the wall, arms folded, watching Aria sort papers like his life depended on keeping things neat.
"You gonna talk now?" Maddox asked.
Aria didn't look up. "I've been talking."
Maddox stepped forward. "No—you've been giving orders."
He pulled out a chair, sat down across from Aria without asking, and leaned forward.
"This is different. And you know it."
Aria set the stack down. "What's different?"
Maddox narrowed his eyes. "You. This whole setup. Two weeks ago we were juggling side hustles. Now we're expanding like we're prepping for war."
"We're prepping for something," Aria said simply.
"Yeah? Like what?"
A beat.
"You keep throwing out more jobs, more names, more risk—without telling any of us why. You want people to stay in line, fine. But you don't get to keep Maddox in the dark."
Aria met his eyes. Calm, serious. "I'm not trying to shut you out."
"You already are."
"I'm trying to protect the crew."
"By running them into the ground?"
Aria didn't respond right away. He just exhaled and leaned forward, resting his arms on the folder like a weight.
"There's something coming. Something big. I don't know when, but it's close."
Maddox stared at him. "You sound like you've got tomorrow's paper in your pocket."
Aria let out half a smirk. "If I did, you wouldn't believe it."
"So try me."
"I can't. Not yet."
Maddox leaned back in the chair, clearly not satisfied. "So I'm just supposed to keep quiet while you run us harder than ever, and say thank you?"
"No," Aria said. "You're supposed to lead with me."
Maddox shook his head. "Then let me lead."
Aria looked up.
Maddox added, "Let me bring in people. Proper ones. Not rushed, not desperate. The crew's good, but we're stretched thin. If you're serious about this pace, we need more hands."
Aria paused.
Then nodded. "Fine. Bring in who you want."
Maddox blinked. "Seriously?"
"Yeah. Your call. No limit. Not from my list—your gut. You know what we need better than anyone."
Maddox stared like he was waiting for the catch.
"There isn't one," Aria added.
"You're really handing it off like that?"
"I don't have time to micromanage. I need you to lock the base down while I focus on where this is going."
Maddox stood slowly, dragging a hand down his face. "You're making it really hard not to worry about you."
"You should worry about the crew."
"I do."
He took a step toward the door, then paused. "I'll start scouting tonight. Might take in more than a couple."
"As many as you need."
Maddox opened the door halfway, looked back.
"You sure you're good?"
Aria didn't look up from the folder. "Not really."
Maddox stood there a second longer, then gave a quiet nod and walked out.
---
That Evening
The air on the roof cut cold against his skin, but Aria didn't mind. He stood by the railing, hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets, hood half-up, breathing slow. Lights from the city flickered below, blinking in and out behind passing clouds. It was quiet. The kind of quiet that didn't ask questions.
The door creaked open behind him. He didn't have to look to know.
Liyana stepped up beside him.
"Told Jay you'd be up here," she said.
Aria stayed still. "You checking on me now?"
"Someone has to."
He huffed. Not quite a laugh. "Figures."
They stood there in silence. Not awkward. Not comfortable either. Just... there.
"You've been hard to reach," Liyana said after a while.
"I've been busy."
"I know. That's what everyone says. Jay's starting to think you're turning into a robot."
"I'm still eating, aren't I?"
"Barely."
He shrugged. The wind picked up and carried a chill between them.
"You good?" she asked.
"I'm fine."
"You always say that."
"'Cause it's easier than saying I'm not."
Liyana looked over at him. His jaw was tight. Shoulders stiff. He looked like he was standing guard, not taking a break.
"You've been pushing everyone hard," she said.
"I have to."
"Why?"
He was quiet.
"I just do," he finally said.
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one I've got right now."
She let that sit for a second.
Then she nudged his arm lightly. "You don't have to tell me everything. But you don't have to hold it all by yourself either."
"I do."
"Why?"
"Because if it falls apart, I want it to fall on me. Not them. Not you."
She looked away, then back.
"You think pushing us away is how you protect us?"
"I think letting people too close makes it harder to make the hard calls when I have to."
"And you think I'm someone you'd have to make a hard call about?"
He didn't answer.
"You ever think maybe I'm not here to be protected? Maybe I just want to be here?"
Aria looked over at her. Really looked.
She didn't flinch. Didn't press him. Just stood there beside him like she wasn't going anywhere.
"You don't get it," he said.
"No, I don't," she said. "Because you won't let me."
That shut him up.
He rubbed the back of his neck and looked down at the street. Lights. A siren somewhere far off.
"I'm trying to do this right," he said quietly. "Even if it means doing it alone."
"You're not alone," she said. "You just keep acting like you are."
She stepped a little closer, shoulder brushing his.
"I'm not asking to carry it. I'm just asking to stay."
He didn't answer for a long time.
Then finally, softly—"Okay."
Liyana smiled, just a little.
And they stayed there, side by side, breathing in the cold city air. Not talking. Not fixing anything. Just being there.
And for once, that was enough.
---
(Maddox POV)
The street was half-frozen, even though the sky wasn't doing much more than spitting out drizzle. Winter in Queens always felt personal—like the cold went straight for your bones.
Maddox leaned against the side of a busted van near an alley just off 108th. Hands deep in his coat pockets, hood up. Watching the door across the street.
It was a rundown barbershop, one of those places that never really had customers, just "visits." A front for something, probably—he didn't care. He was here for the girl inside.
Cassie.
She was fast. Smart. Knew how to lie without blinking. He'd seen her run from three different corners over the past month. She had that twitch in her eye—the kind that said she'd bolt if things got too real—but never did.
He'd been watching.
Aria gave him the green light. No limits. No micromanaging. "Bring in whoever you think we need." That's what he said.
Maddox knew what that really meant: Fix it before it breaks.
The barbershop door creaked open.
Cassie stepped out, hoodie up, backpack half-zipped, phone in hand. She moved like she was always mid-sprint, even when she was walking.
Maddox crossed the street casually, falling in step next to her.
"Long shift?" he asked.
She didn't even flinch. "You following me?"
"Been watching."
"Creepy."
"Smart."
She glanced over, narrowed her eyes. "You're one of Aria's guys, right?"
"Something like that."
"You hiring?"
"Not yet. I'm vetting."
She stopped walking, one brow raised. "That mean I passed?"
"Means I haven't crossed your name off yet."
She smirked. "Well. That's warm and fuzzy."
Maddox looked her in the eye. "Can you follow orders?"
"I can follow money."
"Wrong answer."
She held the stare for a second longer. Then—shrugged. "Yeah. I can follow orders."
Maddox nodded. "You get one shot. Small job. No screw-ups."
"When?"
"Tomorrow. I'll text the details."
She tilted her head. "And if I pass?"
"You get a second job."
Cassie smirked again. "Guess I'll see you tomorrow then."
She kept walking. Didn't look back.
Maddox didn't smile. Didn't move for a second. Just watched her disappear into the haze of the block, then pulled out his burner and made a note.
Cassie – Flagged for light fieldwork.
---
Later that night, he sat at a small booth in a mostly empty noodle shop in Elmhurst, going through a short list.
Cassie – field runner
Leo – muscle, maybe. Keeps to himself. Quiet. Could be solid.
Rene – new name, referred by a guy he used to work with. Too clean. Feels off. Worth watching.
He circled the last one.
Just because Aria trusted him to expand the roster didn't mean Maddox trusted everyone coming in. Every new face was a variable. Every mistake a risk.
The crew was growing.
He just hoped it wasn't stretching too thin.
---
The notebook snapped shut with a quiet thud. Maddox slid it back into his coat pocket, finished the last sip of lukewarm tea, and stood.
Outside, the city buzzed soft and low. Not loud like summer. Just... restless.
He walked down the sidewalk, hands in his coat pockets, eyes scanning shadows out of habit.
The crew was growing. New names. New weight.
And Aria, for all his planning, was carrying it like the world was ending next week.
Maddox didn't know what was coming. But he knew this—if it cracked, it wouldn't be because he didn't do his part.
He pulled out his burner, tapped a message draft, and stared at the blinking cursor for a second.
Then typed:
"Cassie's in. She'll move fast. Keep an eye on her."
He didn't hit send yet.
He just stood there for a while, watching the city breathe around him.