Chapter 5: Alice in Gangland 2

By the time I stepped off the plane, night had fallen heavy over Gangland like a suffocatingly thick velvet blanket. There was something different in the air. It was electric and charged. Like the city was holding its breath. Or maybe it was me that was waiting to exhale.

This wasn’t just a return. This moment was marked. It wasn’t just a return to the city to finish the job I started. This was a complete rebirth.

I wasn’t Alice anymore.

I left her behind the second my foot touched down outside of the plane. Now, I was Toni. Fully.

I entered the city with a single focus in mind.

I didn’t stop by the shop. Didn’t call anyone to announce my return. The only person I reached out to was Siccora, sending her a single text to let her know that I was on the way to her place.

With Ziggy in the backseat and my duffel on the floorboard, I drove straight to Siccora’s without hesitation.

She lived in an old red brick duplex down off Harper, with the crooked mailbox and a porch light that flickered when you stepped down too hard on the steps.

I parked two doors down, out of habit. Never park right in front of your destination. You never know who’s watching.

People who grew up in Gangland were birthed into the world with unexplained paranoia. Even toddlers knew the art of how to ‘not get caught slipping’. When you couldn’t trust anyone, you developed a constant need to watch your back. It was a skill that most agents had to be taught but one that came natural to me.

When I walked up, Siccora was already standing in the doorway, holding baby Jahara on her hip with her other hand resting on Winston’s fuzzy little head.

She took one look at my face and didn’t ask a single question.

“Gimme a minute,” she said quietly. “Let me get these babies to sleep so we can talk.”

I nodded once and stepped aside so she could pass.

I waited on the porch in silence, staring out into the night. The block was strangely quiet. No music was playing. There were no gunshots. Just the sound of a distant siren and the occasional bark of a stray dog. It was quiet in an eerie way that made me feel like something bad was about to happen.

Siccora came back ten minutes later, wiping her hands on her black leggings, and leaning against the screen door frame like she’d been expecting this moment.

“You ready to talk or you want me to pour you something first?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I’ll take a drink.”

Her brows lifted as she tried to gauge what kind of time I was on. “Something fruity like Malibu or heavy like Crown? I got peach.”

I shook my head. “Nah, not trying to get turnt tonight. I’ll just take some tea.”

She held my gaze. “Alrighty then.” With her arms still folded, she pushed off the door and then held it open. “I’ll get some water boiling. Come on in.”

As she got started, I decided to dive on in with my reason for the visit. No hesitation.

“I want to become a Flower. I’ve been thinking on it for a while and I finally think it’s time.”

Siccora’s face didn’t change. But something in her eyes sparked.

“When?”

“Now,” I said. “Can we make that happen?”

She didn’t answer right away. She just watched me, reading all the pieces of me that no one else ever could. There was something about her that was deeper than surface level, like she understood more than people gave her credit for. It was that kind of depth that connected us to each other.

Then a slow smirk crept across her lips, blooming into a grin.

“Of course. We’ve only been waiting since you got here for you to get with the program,” she said. “Let me make some calls. We got you.”

She stepped back inside with the same calm energy as someone lighting a candle before a storm—like she knew something big was coming.

An hour later, we were gathered in the warehouse behind the old community center. It was a property the Gs owned but never claimed. Half the lights didn’t work. The walls were tagged in blood lilies and graffiti spells—symbols only those on the inside would understand. It smelled like sage, sweat, and secrets.

Siccora had let me borrow a gown from her personal collection. It was deep blood red silk, flowing and form-fitted like it had been stitched to my bones. The color of blood. It wasn’t just fabric, it symbolized permission granted to be in the family. In the Golden Flowers, until you were officially initiated, you were a Bud. A Bloom-in-waiting. And Buds wore red until they were chosen to be turned.

Usually, that took months. Sometimes years. You had to earn the ink. But there was a rare clause: if four seated Flowers vouched for a Bud’s early blooming, the timeline could be bypassed. Siccora, Destiny, Felicia, and, surprisingly, Latoya gave me that nod. I hadn’t asked for it. But I had been watched  and studied. And whether they admitted it or not, they saw me as one of them long before this moment.

Every Bud wore red during the initiation ceremony. But tonight, I wasn’t just wearing red. I was embodying it.

The Flowers showed up one by one, each of them draped in black, faces bare, eyes sharp. No heels. No lashes. No pretense. Their hair was wrapped up, and everything that could distract or individualize was removed to create complete uniformity. The only one who was supposed to stand out at ceremonies was the Bud who was about to bloom.

That was me.

The Gs were there too. They stood silently on the outside, surrounding the building like guardian statues. They didn’t interfere. Didn’t even turn their heads to look at their women as they passed. No words. No gestures. Just presence.

Because in this moment, they were not the protectors of us. We were the protectors of each other. The ceremony wasn’t theirs to witness. Their only job was to make sure no one interrupted what was sacred.

It did occur to me that one G in particular wasn’t present. Although Ace, Goshay, and Romeo were there… Mecca wasn’t.

I looked. Not because I needed him, but because some part of me wondered if he’d show. He didn’t. And oddly, I found it easier to breathe.

Once everyone had arrived, two Flowers closed the door and secured the locks to stop anyone from getting in. The motion was more symbolic than anything, because if someone made it past the Gs outside, it wouldn’t be a ceremony, it’d be war.

I stepped into the center.

Siccora stood before me with a long silk cloth in her hand. It was the color of ash. Behind her, a hand-drawn symbol glowed faintly under blacklight, like an ancient code.

“Y’all know why we’re here,” she said, voice strong but still feminine. “One of our own is ready. Not because she wasn’t already part of the crew. We just need to FINALLY make that shit official.”

She smirked and a few other Flowers chuckled softly: Destiny, Felicia… even Latoya, despite her best efforts not to. I rolled my eyes, but I was grateful. The laughter broke the tension that was thick enough to choke on.

The Flowers circled around me, tight and intentional, each one holding a candle. The flames danced with energy like they knew what was coming.

The lights overhead buzzed but didn’t flicker. The silence was deep and holy.

Siccora stepped forward and draped the ash-colored silk over my eyes. Her touch was light, reverent.

“Close your eyes to the world,” she said. “Open them to yourself.”

I obeyed.

Hands touched my shoulders. One slid into mine. Voices rose up, not in unison, but layered with a harmony.

“Pain made you. Blood raised you. Fire refined you. We name you. We claim you. We see you.”

I felt heat crawl up my back, coil in my gut. I couldn’t tell if I was trembling or glowing.

Destiny stepped forward, candlelight catching in her eyes as she crouched beside me. In her hand was the tattoo needle, humming low like a warning.

“Where you want it?” she asked.

I knew exactly where. I’d already thought about it.

“The inside of my left wrist,” I said, voice steady but soft.

Small. Clean. Enough to hide if I need to.

Destiny nodded like she already knew. “You ready?”

I gave a single nod back, then turned my arm over and laid it across the silk-covered cushion they placed in front of me. The air stilled as the needle touched skin.

It burned at first. It was sharp, then hot. The inside of the wrist was sensitive, tender in a way that made me bite down on my bottom lip to keep from flinching. But I didn’t pull away. Not once. This was pain I welcomed. A rite of passage in ink and blood.

The hum of the machine blurred into the background chant, and my heartbeat synced to both like a ritual drum. When she finished, Destiny blew lightly across the skin to soothe it, then stepped back.

I looked down at my wrist where the new tattoo had just been etched. A black blood lily with a soft red fade at its base. On the inside of my left wrist. Small enough to be hidden beneath a thick watch band. But it was loud enough to whisper to the right ones that I was chosen. Official. One of them.

The needle stung in a way that reminded me I was alive. It was a familiar pain. Like a memory being engraved into my skin.

The last time I’d gotten inked, I was twelve. Desperate. Alone. Hungry. I’d done it for survival. This time, I was here because I chose it.

Alice may have stumbled into the rabbit hole, but Toni was about to run it.

Siccora stepped forward, touched the ink gently. “There she go.”

There was a shift in me I couldn’t explain. A heat at the base of my spine. A buzzing behind my eyes. It wasn’t adrenaline. It wasn’t fear. It was something sacred. Something cosmic. Something older than any of us.

I wasn’t stepping into an identity. I was returning to one.

The air was thick with smoke and intention. The other women passed by me one by one, laying hands on my shoulders, whispering words I couldn’t quite hear but felt in my bones.

You are seen.

You are sacred.

You are chosen.

When the ritual ended, Siccora leaned in close, her voice low and velvet smooth.

“Ain’t no turning back now,” she said. “You’ve bloomed, baby.”

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📅 Alice in Gangland 2 drops June 21, 2025. It's the FINALE.

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