Bad neighborhood was an understatement. The streets around the Black Mark had been bad, but Tommy Riser’s street was terrible. The houses on the block were all in various states of falling down, some with roofs and walls collapsed. There were no lights on in any of the houses, but people sat on their stoops, smoking something that was neither cigarettes nor weed. Dakota was scared, acutely aware that this was an unsafe place. Adam had offered to take her to his house. He had told her a dozen times she didn’t need to do this. But Dakota knew she was strong enough. Now she needed to prove it.

 

Recidivism rates were high in the city of Philadelphia, and Dakota knew it was because ex-cons had a hard time finding work and a place to live. Not having those two things were potential parole violations, and looking at Tommy’s chipped and peeling outer walls, she wondered what it would be like to call a place like that home. Adam parked a few houses away from Tommy’s, the Prius looking strange on the dilapidated city block.

 

Once out of the car, Dakota hugged herself with her arms. It was dark, most of the streetlights had burnt out and not been replaced. It was too quiet, as if people had fallen silent at Dakota and Adam’s arrival. She knew there were people around, but they made no sounds. It was unnerving. She felt exposed and out of place, out of her depth. Adam started down the street and Dakota followed close behind, keeping her eyes to the ground. They had taken their masks off, and were carrying them in their pockets. Adam had a crowbar tucked up one sleeve and Dakota could see the hard metal where it rested in his hand.

 

Once at Tommy’s door, Adam looked up and down the street, making sure no one was out. Then, using his body to block the view as best he could, he let the crowbar slip down his arm and used it to quickly pry apart the weak lock holding Tommy’s door closed.

 

The door open, Adam and Dakota quickly snuck inside, Adam closing the door as best he could behind them. Dakota resisted the urge to gag as she looked around the apartment. Dirty, half-empty takeout containers littered the floor along with cigarette butts, chicken bones, and used napkins. There was a bare futon mattress against one wall covered in stains. Roaches crawled underfoot and she could hear the movements of rats and mice in the walls. There were burn holes and the lingering scent of stale cigarette smoke was all around them.

 

“Put your mask on and stand in the corner,” Adam ordered. “Don’t use my name or yours. Don’t give away anything that could let him know who you are.”

 

“What about you?” Dakota asked.

 

“He’s knows me. He’s going to know my voice. But I’ve got a plan, so trust me and do as I say.”

 

Dakota nodded and slipped the mask over her face and then they waited. There was nowhere to sit, or at least no where Dakota wanted to sit. This place made her feel so sad. Who was this person who was forced to live like this, whose addiction had brought him to such a terrible and lonely existence? She wished she could have helped him, kept him from ever even getting to this place.

 

They heard a car pull up to the house and the sound of the car door opening and closing. Tommy was home. Dakota retreated to a corner while Adam positioned himself by the door, his hands in a fighting stance, but his gun was still tucked away in his holster. She heard Tommy walk up the stairs and reach for the door handle. As the door swung open, Adam reached out and grabbed Tommy by the collar of his thin t-shirt, pulling him into the room and then slamming him back into the wall, holding him there by his throat.

 

“Don’t make a sound,” Adam said.

 

Tommy Risen looked rough. His hair was a long tangled mess on his head, his face pasty and covered in pockmarks and scars. He was terribly thin, like a tall reed that had been plucked from the water. When he opened his mouth, his teeth were stained brown and green and his yellowed eyes were wide with fear.

 

“Adam, man I didn’t do anything. I never told no one nothing about Scarred Angels,” Tommy whispered desperately.

 

“You working for the Stealers now?” Adam growled.

 

Tommy’s eyes scanned the room and fell on Dakota. He looked directly into her eyes and she almost had to step back from the fear she saw there.

 

“What was I supposed to do? You kicked me out. I went to jail. Won’t nobody give me work other than the Stealers.”

 

“John Kane, who ordered the hit?”

 

“I don’t know. I swear it. Don’t nobody know. Most of the Stealers don’t even know.”

 

“When are they going to attack him next?”

 

“I don’t know,” Tommy said. Adam brought his hand back and made a fist, slamming it into the wall next to Tommy’s head, making a large dent in the ancient plaster. Dakota jumped at the fury behind Adam’s gesture, at the brute strength he showed. “I swear it man. I really do. I don’t know. But I know that the Stealers have been fucking this up big time. The next hit needs to be done right. They hired a pro, a real professional to do it. The backer paid for him. The Stealers are just going to help with transpo.”

 

“When?” Adam said.

 

“I don’t know man. They ain’t using me for that shit. They think I’m weak, and I am Adam. I don’t know anything.” This time Adam’s first hit Tommy square in his stomach and the man doubled over and gasped for breath.

 

Dakota started forward, her instincts kicking demanding she stop Adam, to help the man in front of her in pain. But she had promised to do what Adam said, to wait and be quiet, and so she took a step back away from Tommy.

 

“I swear I don’t know anything, please, please,” Tommy begged, doubled over, drool falling from his mouth onto the dirty floor below him. Adam lifted him back up and punched him again, mercilessly, Tommy sobbed out and clutched his stomach.

 

“Tell me something, Tommy, something about the buyer or the hit. You know something.”

 

“They hired a pro, that’s it. I don’t know. The Stealers sent us guys home, said we were worthless trash and they had a pro and they didn’t want us messing with their shit no more. That’s all I got, Adam. I swear it.” He sounded so desperate and sad, lonely and terrified. He was so pitiful in his disgusting home in his terrible neighborhood. He had no one to look after him, no one to help him. Adam reared his hand back and Dakota couldn’t help herself.

 

“No,” she said sternly from behind him. Adam turned, one hand still in a fist in front of Tommy, the other secure around Tommy’s throat. He looked at her, his eyes fierce and dark, his face twisted into a dangerous scowl. Dakota wanted to take a step back away from Adam. He looked dangerous, like the gang member he was. He was so strong and fit next to the weak Tommy that it seemed ridiculous that the two of them were the same species. For the first time, Dakota was scared, but not scared of the situation, but of Adam, of the darkness and fury she saw in his eyes.

 

Adam looked at Dakota, the animal snarl still on his face. Dakota wanted to look away, to run away, but she ordered herself to stay where she was. Through the holes in her mask she looked at him, silently she begged him for restraint and mercy. Slowly his eyes softened, he let his hand drop, and he released Tommy who fell to the floor in a sniveling pile of tears.

 

“I’m sorry, Adam,” he said, openly weeping. “I shouldn’t have done that to that girl. The drugs man, they get me so bad I can’t help myself.”

 

“Get out of town. I want you far, far away. Other side of the country far.” From his pocket he pulled out a roll of bills and threw them down at Tommy. He then grabbed Tommy by his hair and tilted his head up so they were looking at each other. “This money’s a gift Tommy. You tell no one I was here. You take this money, you buy a bus ticket, and you go. If I find out you’re still in this city, it’s gonna be bad, Tommy. You understand?”

 

“I’ll leave, Adam. I swear I will. You’ll never see me again.” His hands had eagerly grabbed the money and he was holding it tightly to his chest. “I’ll leave tonight. I’ll go straight, never come back,” he kept repeating himself as Adam backed away.

 

He took Dakota by the elbow and led her to the door, keeping his body between her and Tommy who was still weeping on his knees on the floor, holding the money.

 

They hurried down the street and got into her car, peeling out of the neighborhood quickly as Dakota took the mask off her face. They drove in silence. Adam kept a stern look on his face and his eyes on the road. Dakota looked at him, but he didn’t look at her. His entire body seemed tense and strained, like an animal about to pounce. Carefully Dakota reached out with her hand and touched his, folding her small hand around his large one. At the first touch Adam flinched, but Dakota kept going, feeling his firm hand beneath her own.

 

In many ways, this was her fault. She was the one who needed protection; she was the one who had pushed Adam to investigate. She didn’t want him to feel like what he had done was wrong. In a perfect world, there would have been no need for violence, but this wasn’t a perfect world; it was a dangerous one. Finally Adam let his gaze leave the road for a second, his dark eyes looking for hers. He glanced at her, his eyes a mixture of sadness and worry that broke her heart. She wanted to rescue him. She could; she knew that. She could put the both of them on a private plane and fly to a place where no one would ever find them. They could spend their lives sipping cool drinks on a private beach somewhere. But it was only a fantasy. Dakota could never leave her family, or her work, and neither could Adam. They were people with connections, they cared for others, and they could never abandon the ones they loved.

 

As their eyes met, Dakota smiled at him. Wrapped up in that smile was forgiveness and understanding. She wasn’t afraid of him. She didn’t think he was a monster. She thought he was her savior, someone she could always depend on. Finally, Adam looked back at the road, but allowed himself to relax into his seat as they continued to drive.