CHAPTER 3

The sky outside was grey when I followed Luciano down the hallway, the kind of grey that makes you feel like something heavy is coming, maybe rain, maybe something worse, I couldn’t tell. 

He didn’t say a word. He just walked ahead like he expected me to know where we were going, and honestly, I didn’t, but I walked closely behind him.

I realised that there was something about the way he moved. It was sharp and fast like his whole life was dependent on one big mission.

He took a turn and stopped at a black door, plain but different. This was the kind of door that doesn’t look important until you notice the lock.

 It was thick and shiny, like whatever’s behind it needs to be protected. Protected from intruders and scavengers, I suppose.

 He pulled out a key from his pocket, unlocked it without a glance back at me, and pushed the door open.

Inside was a small room. It had  just a table, two chairs, and shelves filled with files. It looked boring, quiet, but the kind of quiet that hides something dangerous under the surface.

The kind of quiet that was full of mystery and suspense. It echoed hidden secrets that were waiting to be uncovered.

“This is where you start,” he said, not even turning to look at me, just placing a file on the table and flipping it open. 

“You’ll sort information, deliver messages, take calls when you’re told to. Nothing else. Don’t speak unless I say so, and don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.”

I stood there looking at the file, then at him. “You’re making me your assistant or what?”

His eyes finally met mine, cold and unreadable. “I’m making you useful. If you want to survive here, you do what you’re told. You think this is about coffee and paperclips? These files aren’t games. The names inside, the faces, they’re part of something real. Something deadly. Mess up even once, and someone’s dead. It could be you, because you're not an exception. Always remember that!!”

I didn’t say anything. I just nodded and sat down, slowly flipping the opened file on the table.

There were photos, names, locations, notes in messy handwriting. I saw words like “shipment,” “pickup,” and “target.” 

I had no idea what these words meant. Not in this context. These words were clearly not meant to be understood in a usual sense.

Some of the faces I saw were smiling, others looked like they hadn’t smiled in years. One man had a deep scar across his cheek. Another had no name, just a code.

I didn’t know who they were, but I knew one thing—this wasn’t a normal job. It wasn't like the typical jobs I knew.

Whatever this job was, it certainly didn't look like one to be joked with. It was far from ordinary.

Luciano watched me for a second longer like he was waiting for me to panic, but I didn’t. I stayed quiet and kept reading.

He finally turned and walked out, the door closing behind him with a quiet click, leaving me alone in that room with names that could ruin lives.

I kept reading, eyes moving across the paper even though my brain was starting to ache. Every page made me feel like I was sinking deeper into a world I didn’t belong in. A world I couldn’t escape from even if I wanted to.

This was the price I had to pay for my brother. Which included myself too at this point. Because I sold myself out to the devil's incarnate.

After what felt like hours, the door opened again, and this time it wasn’t Luciano. A different man stepped in, tall, well-built, and dressed in black. 

He looked serious but not in the cold way Luciano did. There was something else in his eyes.

“You must be the girl,” he said casually, like we were meeting at a bus stop, and not in the middle of a mafia house.

I stood up quickly. “Yeah. I’m—”

“I know who you are,” he cut in before I could finish. “Marco here. I handle most of Luciano’s work on this side. If he tells you to jump, you jump. It's that simple.”

He placed a small box on the table in front of me. “Your phone. It’s not for texting friends or checking the weather. You’ll get calls, texts, and you had better answer them fast. It has a tracker too, so don’t get any ideas about running. We’ll find you.”

I looked at the phone and nodded, my voice low. “I’m not planning to run.”

He stared at me for a moment and gave a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Smart girl. Makes things easier for everyone.”

He turned to leave but paused at the door. “Have you had something to eat?”

I hesitated, then nodded, even though it was a lie. I was scared for a moment.

He raised a brow, clearly not buying it. “Luciano might be scary, but we’re not savages. Come on, the kitchen’s this way.”

I followed him, unsure if I should thank him or just keep my mouth shut.

 We walked through more halls, past paintings, past more men in suits who all looked like they’d shoot first and ask questions later.

When we reached the kitchen, it smelled like fresh bread and something warm. A woman was cooking, quiet and focused. Marco grabbed a plate, filled it with food, and handed it to me.

“Eat. You’ll need your strength,” he said, then leaned in slightly. “Especially if you’re going to survive in his world.”

I sat down at the counter and started eating, my stomach thankful even though my mind was still spinning.

I didn’t know what Luciano wanted from me, not really. I didn’t know how deep I was already.

But I did know one thing: this wasn’t just about paying off a debt anymore. It was about something deeper. Something bigger. Probably more demanding.