Chapter 1

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A/N: Okay, so let me just give a warning, as much as I'd like using the excuse that I'm a new writer, I've actually written some content before this, so unfortunately, that 'reason' doesn't work anymore.

So sorry if it sucks. *cringes*

'Torrel' is the country Sokeefe lives in, something I made up with, I have no idea if there's anything in real life related to that. :))

By the way, Keefe's parents are actual good people who care for him in this book.

Note: I created 2 OCs, their names are Liam and Dave.

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Keefe

Keefe stuck his hands into his pockets, blowing out a breath as he rounded a corner.

Great. Just great, the one day he decided to pull his greatest prank on his principle before he went on year-end break and stay after school for detention, it just had to be the coldest day of the year.

Well, cold for Torrel.

In Torrel's winter, the coldest they ever reached was 40 degrees fahrenheit.

Which was exactly how cold it was then and there.

He sighed, breath clouding, as he checked the time on his phone, walking back home from his school, Foxfire High.

It wasn't too late, seeing as he'd decided to drop by the bookshop before heading home.

Then again, it was already dark. Keefe tended to get distracted and lose track of all time when he was around books. Something he inherited from his dad, despite how much he tried to deny it.

His obsession with books didn't really help with his 'bad boy' image.

He turned down another street, before he heard muffled yelp, then people muttering amongst themselves.

It probably wasn't a good idea, but he followed the sound anyway.

And it was apparently a good thing he did, because then he saw a man, no older than forty, surrounded by people ages ranging from 14 to 30.

The man cowered in a corner in the alleyway he was in, bloody, bruised and with a fearful expression on is face. "P- P- Please..." He stuttered.

A triad gang, Keefe guessed. These were probably people underlings finishing a job for their master.

He stood just a few feet away from a street lamp, silently watching.

His parents, high ranking police officials, would never approve of him going so close in person to a gang fight.

Turning his attention back to the man, Keefe heard a feminine laugh.

A girl about his age stepped closer.

Everyone parted around her. She was most likely their leader. Though a hooded jacket covered her face.

"Do you know what happens to someone who doesn't pay his debt to William Foster?" She asked quietly, but viciously.

A glint of silver.

The knife was no more than a quick flash of metal as the girl held it to the man's throat.

"P- Please," the man pleaded again. "I- I don't have anything to repay you with."

"Too bad," the girl drawled. "You're sure there's nothing?"

The blade pressed dangerously close to the man's lifeline.

He swallowed. "Please... I have a wife and children, they have no one to support them, I- "

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