Iris Giorgianni is no ordinary girl. She's living a double life: a neglected daughter at home, but a fighter on the streets. As the leader of The Sangue - one of the most wanted and well-known gangs in London - Iris has a reputation to uphold. Only...
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"My guiding principle is this: Guilt is never to be doubted."
- Franz Kafka
SOMETHING WAS wrong.
Fire. There was too much of it. The smoke was beginning to engulf her; with every breath she took it drove further and further into her body. They hadn't meant for it to get this bad, but now it was too late to stop it.
"We need to get out of here, Rev." Davis. He had one hand on Rex's back, who was coughing in the centre of the room, his eyes wide and afraid. Beads of sweat were trickling down their necks, the heat unbearable.
How had this happened? How had she put them all in such danger?
"We can't leave without Charlie." She replied. Her voice cracked as she attempted speaking through the smoke. "He said he'd come back soon."
Charlie was finishing up as she'd asked him to. Just a white sheet; one white sheet. He'd be hanging it from the building, tying it out of a window two floors up. He said he knew what he was doing – it was all planned to perfection.
But Charlie was late. He was supposed to be back with them already.
She'd imagined him running through the double doors, red faced but grinning, "Did it. Sorry, took a while – the wind is pretty bad out."
He never came.
"Rev, we need to go." Leon was staring at the fire inching towards them. There was a free door, a chance to escape. In a few moments that chance would be gone. "We can't wait for him. He must have gone out another way."
Iris was holding her hands on her forehead, gritting her teeth. Where the fuck are you, Charlie?
"Revenant." Leon tugged her arm like a toddler, desperately shuffling towards the open door. His eyes were squinting through the smoke, reminding her of the stinging sensation in her own.
Wrenching her arm free, she grabbed Leon's shirt, putting her forehead against his. She was furious, but mostly she was furious at herself. It was her fault they were in this mess, that something had gone wrong along the way, that Charlie was alone instead of having help from one of the others. She could have taken the blame and apologised, but instead she spat and yelled at Leon, pushing him away. "We don't fucking leave people behind here. Got it?"
He nodded, cowering away. The pulsating orange of the fire reflected in his eyes.
There was a shout, and they turned to see Davis holding Scab in his arms. Scab was limp; he must have passed out. His face slackened, almost lifeless, eyes closed and mouth open. He could have been dead.
Davis, who was already coughing in fits from the smoke, seemed to have little strength in him left to carry Scab's body. "We need to fucking leave. It's too late. At this rate it's gonna be leaving Charlie behind or leaving all of us behind."
