The Pledge by Yash

Chapter 1

Dara stood alone on this deeply overcast day. The sky was dark gray; it was as if the sun didn't exist. The universe knew what today was. It tied for the worst day in her life. The day her husband was laid to rest.

The fog rolled in and heavy mist began to fall. She was not aware of it. She was not aware of time. Time was now meaningless. She had lost her best friend and lover. There was no one to cuddle with in the

middle of the night. There was no one to fight with over the crossword puzzle in the Sunday edition of the New York Times. There was no one to share her hopes, worries, dreams, and frustrations with anymore.

The mist turned into a light drizzle that rained down on her, but she was oblivious and numb. She had been like this through the salute, through the murmurs of condolences from those she knew and those she didn't, through the handshakes, hugs, and kisses. For those who had the courage to do so, they looked into her eyes and saw that they were vacant, lifeless, dead.

The drizzle turned to rain, but still she stood as if standing there would bring him back. She stayed put even as the rain now accompanied by wind destroyed what Simone and Keesha worked hard to create.

Her body hummed and she knew he was beside her. His presence sheltered her from the rain. But she never acknowledged his presence, her eyes never lifted from the dirt covered with flowers that the rain was quickly and furiously turning into mud. He would not like that. Being covered in mud, he would be upset by that. That she allowed that to happen. But what could she do? She silently apologized and hoped, prayed he heard her and forgave her.

Suddenly she became aware that it was no longer raining on her. He touched her back.

"What can I do?" he asked softly, not really wanting to disturb her. She remained silent for so long, it seemed as if she hadn't heard him, but he knew she had.

"Bring me their heads," she said with an eerie calmness.

Reaching out, he touched her cheek and turned her face towards his. He looked directly into her eyes. He recognized the numbness to life. The only light in her eyes was that of revenge and it twinkled in the

background.

"It's done," he replied quietly.

She left the dryness of his umbrella. She walked a few steps. Squatting beside the freshly dug grave, she placed a single white rose, whose thorns had made her bleed as she clutched it tightly during the service, on the dirt-mud mixture. She wiped her blood on the stark white petals. Slowly she stood and walked to the waiting limo.

He watched her walk in the impending storm alone and hurting. He wished he could take her pain away, and ironically he could. He had just pledged to Dara to find the men who killed her husband, his archenemy, Detective Marcus Taggert, and that's just what he was going to do.