The First Crack

The days grew louder after the locker incident. Not from voices, but from tension. It was in the way students talked quieter near Bones' crew. In how teachers glanced a little too long down the hallway before calling anyone out. Everyone felt it. Power had shifted, even if no one could quite name it.

Ethan walked through school like someone who had stopped asking permission. His head was high, his steps steady. But his eyes stayed sharp. He was watching everything, even when it looked like he wasn't. The energy felt like a wire stretched too tight. Something would snap. It was just a matter of when.

Sierra caught up with him after third period. She barely said anything at first. Just walked beside him, sketchbook hugged to her chest.

"They're nervous," she finally said.

"Good," Ethan replied.

"They're nervous because they know something's changing."

"And they should. Change doesn't ask for comfort."

Sierra tilted her head. "So what's next?"

He didn't respond immediately. He stopped near the vending machines, watching Bones from across the hall. Bones was pacing near the lockers, whispering hard into his phone. His shoulders were tense, like he couldn't settle in his own skin. Jaylen stood a few feet back, not laughing like usual. The grip on his bag was tight. They were unraveling.

"I'm going to start peeling his support apart," Ethan said quietly. "One by one. The crew only respects power. If I break the structure, the loyalty dies with it."

Sierra studied him for a long moment. "And what if they don't fold? What if they fight harder?"

Ethan turned toward her, voice calm. "Then I'll fight harder."

The way he said it made her look away for a second. He wasn't bluffing. She could hear it. Feel it. He wasn't just reacting anymore. He was transforming.

"Just don't forget why you're doing this," she said, her tone softening. "You're not like them, Ethan. Don't become them."

He nodded. "I won't. But I can't be the same kid they used to beat into the ground either."

Sierra opened her sketchbook and handed it to him. He looked down and saw a new drawing. It was Ethan again, this time standing in front of a mirror. But in the reflection, he wore a crown made of broken glass.

"You're not who you were," she said, "but don't lose the boy who survived everything."

Ethan handed the book back without saying a word. But something tightened in his chest.

That night, he returned to the warehouse. The air inside was thick with heat and sweat. The sound of gloves hitting bags echoed through the space. Vane didn't speak right away. He was taping his hands, a slow and practiced motion. Ethan joined him in silence, wrapping his own fists.

When they stepped into the ring, Vane didn't wait.

He came at Ethan hard. Hooks to the ribs, jabs to the cheek, footwork that kept Ethan spinning. Ethan absorbed it, moved with it, then countered with a right that caught Vane just under the jaw. It wasn't clean, but it landed.

Vane paused, wiped his mouth, then nodded.

"Better. You're starting to strike without asking for permission."

"I don't have time to be polite," Ethan muttered.

"Good. Because Bones won't be. He's going to hit you where it hurts most. He's going to come at the people around you. You ready for that?"

Ethan exhaled slowly. "I don't have a choice. I just have to be smarter."

Vane stepped closer, lowering his voice.

"Then start thinking about allies. You're not winning this alone."

Ethan frowned. "I don't trust people easily."

"You don't need to trust them," Vane said, eyes sharp. "You need to lead them."

Those words followed Ethan home that night. Through dinner, through the silence of his mother's tired eyes, through the way the light in the hallway flickered when he walked past. He lay on his bed staring at the ceiling, thoughts swirling.

Allies.

He couldn't do this alone. Not if he wanted to dismantle Bones completely.

He thought of Sierra first. She was already by his side. Steady. Watching. Not afraid to tell him the truth.

But who else?

He remembered one name.

Jordan Price.

Quiet. Kept to himself. But he used to be in Bones' orbit. Left after a fight last year and no one had seen him near the crew since. Rumor was he got jumped by Jaylen and still walked himself home without flinching.

Ethan found him the next day behind the gym, headphones around his neck, bouncing a basketball against the wall alone. The rhythm was fast, tight, controlled. Ethan didn't speak until Jordan paused for breath.

"You ever think about revenge?" Ethan asked.

Jordan looked at him slowly. "Every day."

"Then maybe we're thinking the same thing."

Jordan studied him. "You look different than you used to. Heard you cracked Jaylen's nose."

"Accident," Ethan said, his voice dry. "Sort of."

Jordan chuckled. "What do you want from me?"

"Not loyalty. Not yet. Just your eyes and your brain. I know you've seen how Bones operates. I want you to help me break it."

Jordan bounced the ball once, catching it with one hand.

"Why now?"

"Because I'm tired of surviving. I want to own my space. And I want them to know I'm not hiding anymore."

Jordan nodded slowly. "Alright. I'll listen. But if you screw this up and make things worse, I'm not taking a hit for your pride."

"Fair," Ethan said. "But I'm not moving on pride. I'm moving on memory."

That afternoon, he sat beside Sierra again, this time with something different in his posture. She noticed it instantly.

"You brought someone in," she said.

"I started building something."

"A crew?"

"Not yet. But maybe the beginnings of one."

She leaned back against the brick wall behind them. "Then I hope you're ready. Because Bones isn't going to wait forever. Sooner or later, he's going to strike."

Ethan looked up at the sky. Clouds were gathering again, thick and heavy.

"I'm counting on it."