Chapter 1: The Bitch

“What the fudge?” I muttered under my breath, gripping the edge of my seat as the car hit yet another bump.

The driver glanced back, raising an eyebrow at my choice of words but said nothing. His silence somehow annoyed me more than any sarcastic comment could have.

I stared out the window, squinting at the passing scenery. Tall trees loomed over endless stretches of farmland, and the road was an unforgiving mess of potholes and uneven gravel. It felt like we were driving through the middle of nowhere—no, scratch that—it was nowhere.

“Another chocolate fudge!” I exclaimed sarcastically as the car jolted, nearly sending me flying out the window.

Just then, something caught my eye. A man—or at least, I thought it was a man—was perched on the branch of a towering tree. He lay sprawled out like he had all the time in the world, one leg dangling lazily.

“What the hell is that guy doing?!” I shouted, pressing my face against the window.

“Wait—wait, is that even a man? Or a ghost? Seriously, where are we going? What kind of place is this?”

The driver sighed, clearly unfazed by my outburst.

“Ma’am, this is the way to Mistletoe. Same road your daddy and I took last time we visited your cousin’s place.”

I groaned and checked my phone for the hundredth time. No signal. Not a single bar. “Arrrghh! Tell Daddy I’m heading back home if there’s no signal here!”

The car rolled to a stop, and I gawked at the so-called "destination."

We’d arrived at a desolate park, lifeless and eerie, with nothing but overgrown grass and rusty swings swaying in the breeze. Not a single house in sight.

“Is this a joke?” I asked, my voice dripping with disbelief.

Before the driver could respond, a woman emerged from the shadows, her stride confident and her silhouette unmistakable.

“Wait… Isabel?”

“That’s her, ma’am,” the driver said. “She’s here to fetch you. I can’t take the car further up the trail.”

I climbed out, staring at Isabel as she approached. She looked the same—simple but undeniably beautiful, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders in effortless waves. I couldn’t help but grin as her face lit up with recognition.

“Cassandra Novalez, the gothic bitch,” she said with a laugh, spreading her arms wide.

I glanced down at myself. Black dress, black boots, bracelets adorned with black pearls and skull beads. Yep, fair nickname.

“Isabel. Ugly as usual,” I teased, smirking.

She scowled playfully, pulling me into a tight hug.

“Welcome to Mistletoe, Cassandra. You’re going to hate it here.”

---

Two Months Ago

“You’re really arrogant, Cassandra.”

Jack’s face was twisted in frustration, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. I leaned against my car, lazily blowing a plume of smoke into the night air.

Eight men stood before me, their expressions a mix of anger and smug superiority. They’d cornered me on a dark, deserted road, blocking my way home.

I should’ve been afraid, but honestly? I was bored.

“Seriously, Jack? Picking fights with women now? I thought your little gang was supposed to be tough. What was it again? Sigma? Sounds more like 'Gaysters' to me.”

“You bitch!” one of the men snapped, his hands balling into fists.

Jack raised a hand to calm him, though his face betrayed a flicker of anger. “Our organization’s reputation is on the line, Cassandra. People fear your name more than they fear us. Taking you down would restore our honor.”

“Wow. How noble,” I said with a roll of my eyes.

“And let’s not forget,” Jack added, his smirk returning, “you’ve got a few debts to settle. Kicking the boss’s girlfriend? Big mistake.”

I laughed, the memory of that particular fight flashing through my mind. “She challenged me. Guess she didn’t know I don’t play fair.”

Jack pulled out a Swiss knife, flipping it open with a dramatic flourish. “You’re not walking away this time.”

“Oh, please,” I muttered, glancing at my watch. 10:37 PM. If my emergency beacon worked, the cops would show up soon.

Jack lunged at me, knife raised. I sidestepped easily, landing a solid kick to his gut. He doubled over, and I brought my elbow down on the back of his neck, knocking him out cold.

The other men roared, rushing at me all at once. I dodged and blocked their attacks, adrenaline fueling my every move. One knife grazed my side, and I hissed in pain. But the sting only made me fight harder.

“Boss! Police!” one of the men shouted suddenly. Sirens wailed in the distance, their shrill cries cutting through the chaos.

“Shit! Let’s go!”

The gang scattered, but not before one of them aimed a gun at me.

“Goodbye, bitch.”

The shot rang out.

But I felt… nothing.

Police cars screeched to a halt, surrounding the scene. Officers poured out, guns drawn, shouting orders. One of them rushed to my side.

“Ma’am, are you okay? You’re bleeding!”

I blinked, swaying on my feet. Blood soaked my side, and the world began to blur.

“Cassandra!”

Charlie’s voice broke through the haze. He was running toward me, his face pale with panic.

“Shit! Cas! What the hell happened?”

I managed a weak laugh. “Relax, Charlie. It’s just a scratch.”

“Shut up! Where’s the damn ambulance?!”

I smiled faintly. “Don’t worry. I’m not dying yet.”

Then everything went dark.

---

**Present Day**

The trail Isabel led me on was narrow and uneven, flanked by ancient trees whose branches formed an almost tunnel-like canopy. The air smelled of earth and moss, and somewhere in the distance, a brook babbled quietly.

“So,” Isabel began, breaking the silence, “why’d you finally agree to come here? I thought you hated Mistletoe.”

“I do,” I replied bluntly. “But Daddy insisted. Said I needed to ‘reconnect with family’ or whatever.”

Isabel smirked. “And you just can’t say no to Daddy, can you?”

“Shut up,” I muttered, shoving her lightly.

She laughed, but her expression sobered as she glanced back at me. “Seriously, though. It’s been years. We missed you.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s just get this over with.”

As we walked, the eerie feeling from earlier refused to leave me. The shadows seemed to move, and every rustle in the bushes made my heart skip a beat.

“You’re jumpy,” Isabel observed.

“This place is creepy,” I shot back.

“It’s Mistletoe,” she said with a shrug. “Get used to it.”

But her nonchalance didn’t reassure me. If anything, it made me more suspicious. Something about this place wasn’t right—and I was determined to find out what it was.