The Blood Contract

The coastal town of Viera was quiet that morning, the atmosphere filled with the gentle lapping of waves against the shore.

Inside the garage of her small house, Serena Alaric flashed a small contented smile, her latest project—a vintage motorcycle—gleaming under the beautiful rays of sunlight.

The hum of machinery and the clink of tools had always been her solace, drowning out the ghosts of a past she tried desperately to forget. Here, far from the chaos of the mafia world, she had carved out a simple, honest life, one she was proud to call her own.

She could at least say she had found some peace.

But peace is a fragile thing.

The chime of the garage door had her turning around. Wiping her grease-streaked hands on a rag, she brushed a loose strand of red hair from her face.

"Morning, Alonso," she greeted, bringing a smile to her face as the middle-aged sheriff walked in, his boots clinking against the concrete floor.

"Serena," Sheriff Alonso tipped his hat, his sun-weathered face crinkling into a smile. "I think the ol' girl needs your magic touch again."

He gestured to his cruiser, parked just outside the garage bay. It was the same car she'd worked on a dozen times before, and by now, Serena knew its quirks almost as well as her own.

"She giving you trouble again?" she teased, grabbing her toolkit.

"Only when I need her the most," Alonso replied with a chuckle. "Thought I'd swing by before she decides to stall on me in the middle of nowhere."

Serena walked over to the cruiser, running her fingers along the hood as she popped it open.

Alonso leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his radio crackling faintly at his hip.

"So, how's the wife?" Serena asked as she worked, her voice light.

"She's good," Alonso replied, a note of pride in his tone. "She's started another batch of those preserves you like. Told me to bring you a jar next time I'm here."

"Ah, Mrs. Alonso spoiling me again. You know I won't say no to that."

He laughed, shaking his head. "She says you're too skinny for someone who works this hard."

Serena smirked, wiping her brow. "Guess I'll take that as a compliment."

Alonso chuckled, watching her work with the kind of admiration that came from years of knowing someone. She'd been a part of the town for a while now, and though she kept her secrets, her hard work and friendly demeanor had earned her respect.

"Alright," Serena said after tightening one last bolt, stepping back and wiping her hands. "She's good as new."

"Good as new, huh?" Alonso pushed off the wall, walking over to inspect her handiwork.

"Well, as close to new as you'll get with this one," she quipped, a playful glint in her eyes.

Alonso laughed, but before he could respond, his radio buzzed to life.

"Sheriff, come in. We've got reports of some strange individuals near the old mill, just off Highway 7."

Alonso's smile faltered as he grabbed the radio from his belt. "Copy that. Any description?"

"A group of three. Looked like the same ones lurking in the area yesterday."

"Understood. I'll head out now," Alonso said, clipping the radio back to his belt.

Serena watched him carefully. "Trouble?"

Alonso shrugged, his tone dismissive. "Nothing I can't handle. Probably just some drifters passing through. Happens every now and then."

She nodded, but a flicker of unease sparked in her chest. This wasn't the first time she'd heard of strangers near the mill lately. Throughout that week, there had been rumors of strange faces in the town. It wasn't a very big town, so everyone knew when a strange face or presence arrived.

As Alonso reached into his pocket for his wallet, something small and dark slipped out, fluttering to the ground.

He let out a small sigh, bending down to pick it up.

But Serena's blood instantly turned cold.

The bandana that fell out bore a logo she hadn't seen in years—a jagged emblem stitched in black and red. The sight of it sent a jolt through her, like ice flooding her veins.

"Where did you get that?" Her voice came out sharper than she intended, and Alonso glanced up, surprised.

"This?" He held it up, frowning slightly. "It's nothing. Picked it up near the mill after a call about some troublemakers yesterday. Looked like it belonged to one of 'em."

Serena couldn't hide the way her face drained of color. She felt her knees wobble but forced herself to stand tall.

"You alright? Something wrong?" Alonso asked, concern etched across his face.

"I'm alright," she said quickly, too quickly.

Alonso wasn't convinced. He studied her carefully, his gaze steady. "You sure? You look like you've just seen a ghost."

Serena forced a laugh, though it sounded hollow. "I'm fine, Sheriff. The bandana just looks kinda strange and out of place around here, that's all."

He nodded slowly, moving his gaze to the small bandana. "I thought so too. These people are not from nowhere around here." He lingered a moment longer before tucking the bandana into his pocket and pulling out his wallet. "How much do I owe you for the fix?"

"Just the usual," she managed, her voice steadier now.

As Alonso handed her the cash, she couldn't help but glance at his pocket again, where the bandana was now hidden.

After he drove off, Serena stood in the garage, her hands trembling. She clenched her fists, trying to steady herself, but the memories came rushing back.

That logo—she knew too well, a part of her early life she'd worked so hard to leave behind. It belonged to a dangerous Mafia cult, one her father had served diligently until his fallout. If it was here, in this quiet town, then trouble wasn't far behind.

Her mind raced. What were they doing in Viera? There was a reason she chose this town. It was cut off from the rest of the world, and relatively peaceful. They were probably there for a different business, she thought.

But she also couldn't ignore the warning signs. If they were near the mill, they were too close for comfort.

Taking a deep breath, Serena forced herself to move. She locked up the garage and went back inside her house. She could leave the town temporarily, but that could turn bad and expose her if they didn't already know she was there.

So she decided to remain indoors until the coast was clear. Fear held her down, but she could only hope they were not there for her. They must have forgotten about her family after all those years. She hoped they would quickly finish whatever business brought them to Viera, and leave the town alone so she could have some peace again.

But when night came, the calm in her heart shattered, and her shut eyes snapped open.

It began with a faint shuffle outside, barely audible over the sound of the ocean breeze. Serena's head snapped up, her instincts honed by years of survival.

She killed the light, plunging the room into darkness, and stood perfectly still, listening.

The shuffle soon turned into deliberate footsteps, the crunch of gravel betraying at least two, maybe three intruders. Her heart thudded in her chest, but her mind was sharp. She reached inside a drawer and pulled out a knife—a sleek, balanced blade she had never had to use until now.

The window shattered first, the crash echoing through the house. Two figures slipped inside, moving with precision. Serena crouched low, her breath steady, waiting for her moment.

The first man advanced, his steps cautious but confident. He didn't see her until it was too late. Serena lunged and her blade slashed across his arm. He cried out, stumbling back, and she used the momentary chaos to strike again, aiming for his leg. The man dropped to the floor with a thud.

"Move in!" a gruff voice barked, and two more figures entered through the broken window.

Serena's pulse quickened, but she didn't back down. Gripping the knife tightly, she spun to meet the next attacker, dodging his attempt to grab her.

She was quick, her movements precise, but these men weren't amateurs. They moved like trained soldiers, their coordination tightening with each moment.

A blow to her side sent her staggering as the knife slipped from her hand.