Chapter One — The Wings on 104th
South Central Los Angeles
Vernon Ave. & 104th Street — 2:42 A.M.
This part of LA didn't sleep — it just waited for something to go wrong.
The night wind was field with silence and heat, and the streetlights flickered like they were scared to stay on. Rami Cole hadn't been back on Vernon in almost three years. But now he was running toward it like it still owed him something.
Boots pounding pavement. Heart louder than sirens. He didn't call for backup. Didn't grab a piece. Just ran.
Trina's call had been a whisper, barely audible.
> "They got Saint. In the alley. He's bleeding. Rami… hurry."
---
Behind Big Ray's Market — Vernon Alley
Saint was fifteen but still rode his bike like he was ten — wild, fast, thinking he was invincible. That confidence had kept him alive in a neighborhood built to bury boys like him.
But now he lay slumped beneath a rusted staircase, mouth full of blood, jacket torn open. The white wings he always painted on the back — two angel feathers on each shoulder — were turning red.
Trina crouched nearby, trembling. "He said he was meeting someone. Said it was for you."
"For me?" Rami's voice cracked.
Saint's eyes fluttered open. "Ghost…"
Rami leaned in. "Ghost Vernon? Did he do this?"
The boy nodded — or maybe just twitched.
"Why, Saint? Why'd you come out here alone?"
"Had to… prove I could handle it," Saint rasped. "Got something… for you…"
His hand moved weakly toward his jacket. Rami reached in and pulled out a folded piece of paper, half soaked in blood.
> Ninth Supply Co.
Ghost is real.
104th is next.
Saint let out one final, breath, And just like that, the alley was silent again.
---
3:11 A.M. — Dee's Auto Shop, backroom
The ceiling fan spun in slow circles, the hum barely covering the weight of what just happened.
Rami stared at the bloodied paper. Dee stood by the wall, arms crossed, trying to gauge where his friend's head was at.
"I told you," Dee said, voice low. "Coming back to Vernon would drag you into this mess again."
"I didn't drag anything," Rami muttered. "It found me."
"Ghost Vernon ain't even supposed to be real, man. Just an old name to scare runners. You think he really killed that kid?"
"I don't know what I think. But Saint didn't lie."
"He bled out in your arms, bro. You think straight people do that to kids?"
Rami clenched his jaw. "He wasn't just some kid. He was mine."
Dee rubbed his face. "What you gonna do?"
"What needs doing."
---
3:48 A.M. — Trina's Apartment
Trina wiped her swollen eyes, rocking slowly on her bedroom floor.
She'd raised Saint like a brother — hell, like a son sometimes. Rami had promised her things would be different this time. But Vernon had a way of pulling people back into darkness.
She stared at a picture on her nightstand — Saint smiling, fingers flashing a peace sign, no wings on his back yet.
"I should've stopped him," she whispered. "I should've made him stay in."
Then her phone buzzed.
Rami:
> "I'm gonna find who did this."
"Stay inside. Don't talk to nobody."
"It's starting again."
---
4:27 A.M. — Unknown Surveillance Room
Cameras blinked on a wall of screens. One showed the alley. Another showed Rami pacing the garage. A third was static — broken or tampered with.
A man in a gray silk shirt sat watching it all, swirling a glass of scotch, gold ring glinting under low light.
"You see that?" he said to someone off-screen. "The soldier's back on the board."
"Think he knows it was bait?"
"Doesn't matter. He'll bite anyway."
Ghost Vernon leaned forward and tapped the monitor. It froze on Rami's face — tired, furious, broken.
"Tell the block," Vernon said. "Saint's wings just lit the first match."
---
⚫️ End of Chapter One
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ASHES ON VERNON
Chapter One — The Wings on 104th
South Central Los Angeles
Vernon Ave. & 104th Street — 2:42 A.M.
This part of LA didn't sleep — it just waited for something to go wrong.
The night wind was field with silence and heat, and the streetlights flickered like they were scared to stay on. Rami Cole hadn't been back on Vernon in almost three years. But now he was running toward it like it still owed him something.
Boots pounding pavement. Heart louder than sirens. He didn't call for backup. Didn't grab a piece. Just ran.
Trina's call had been a whisper, barely audible.
> "They got Saint. In the alley. He's bleeding. Rami… hurry."
---
Behind Big Ray's Market — Vernon Alley
Saint was fifteen but still rode his bike like he was ten — wild, fast, thinking he was invincible. That confidence had kept him alive in a neighborhood built to bury boys like him.
But now he lay slumped beneath a rusted staircase, mouth full of blood, jacket torn open. The white wings he always painted on the back — two angel feathers on each shoulder — were turning red.
Trina crouched nearby, trembling. "He said he was meeting someone. Said it was for you."
"For me?" Rami's voice cracked.
Saint's eyes fluttered open. "Ghost…"
Rami leaned in. "Ghost Vernon? Did he do this?"
The boy nodded — or maybe just twitched.
"Why, Saint? Why'd you come out here alone?"
"Had to… prove I could handle it," Saint rasped. "Got something… for you…"
His hand moved weakly toward his jacket. Rami reached in and pulled out a folded piece of paper, half soaked in blood.
> Ninth Supply Co.
Ghost is real.
104th is next.
Saint let out one final, breath, And just like that, the alley was silent again.
---
3:11 A.M. — Dee's Auto Shop, backroom
The ceiling fan spun in slow circles, the hum barely covering the weight of what just happened.
Rami stared at the bloodied paper. Dee stood by the wall, arms crossed, trying to gauge where his friend's head was at.
"I told you," Dee said, voice low. "Coming back to Vernon would drag you into this mess again."
"I didn't drag anything," Rami muttered. "It found me."
"Ghost Vernon ain't even supposed to be real, man. Just an old name to scare runners. You think he really killed that kid?"
"I don't know what I think. But Saint didn't lie."
"He bled out in your arms, bro. You think straight people do that to kids?"
Rami clenched his jaw. "He wasn't just some kid. He was mine."
Dee rubbed his face. "What you gonna do?"
"What needs doing."
---
3:48 A.M. — Trina's Apartment
Trina wiped her swollen eyes, rocking slowly on her bedroom floor.
She'd raised Saint like a brother — hell, like a son sometimes. Rami had promised her things would be different this time. But Vernon had a way of pulling people back into darkness.
She stared at a picture on her nightstand — Saint smiling, fingers flashing a peace sign, no wings on his back yet.
"I should've stopped him," she whispered. "I should've made him stay in."
Then her phone buzzed.
Rami:
> "I'm gonna find who did this."
"Stay inside. Don't talk to nobody."
"It's starting again."
---
4:27 A.M. — Unknown Surveillance Room
Cameras blinked on a wall of screens. One showed the alley. Another showed Rami pacing the garage. A third was static — broken or tampered with.
A man in a gray silk shirt sat watching it all, swirling a glass of scotch, gold ring glinting under low light.
"You see that?" he said to someone off-screen. "The soldier's back on the board."
"Think he knows it was bait?"
"Doesn't matter. He'll bite anyway."
Ghost Vernon leaned forward and tapped the monitor. It froze on Rami's face — tired, furious, broken.
"Tell the block," Vernon said. "Saint's wings just lit the first match."
---
⚫️ End of Chapter One