INTO THE LION'S DEN

CHAPTER 1

INTO THE LION'S DEN

JASMINE VALE

There are two kinds of mornings in my life: the quiet ones, where everything hums with sugar and peace, and the chaotic ones—where my apron’s on backward, I forget the oven timer, and I seriously contemplate crying into the batter. Today, thank the butter gods, is the former.

It's just past Six in the evening. Customers were still coming in, taking orders, or getting a late-night coffee for the cold weather. Italy in the winter season is the best thing one could ever ask for.

I yawned, hitting the oven and grabbing three eggs from the open craters I just got yesterday.

"Another dead body found on Dustin Bridge." Lola read from the News Kean newspaper that was dropped by Mr. Bennett, my favorite customer who likes to tell me stories about his days as a young Soldier.

"I wonder how a human would take another life without batting an eyelash. It's disturbing."

"Of course, it is. Coming from you, who has never even killed a mosquito." Lola sneered.

"Why are you even here?" I sighed, tossing the cleaning rag onto the counter slab.

"Ouch. I came to keep you company. Why would I leave my naive, innocent friend out here in the open?" She stopped and gestured to the building across the street.

The Dark Building made the whole street across looked so menacing.

It was called The Den. I don't know what goes on in there, but I surely do know, it's nothing good, but that wasn't my business.

I didn't know about it until I purchased the small shop for my pastry business. The agent had assured me of peace and quiet, and although it was indeed peaceful and quiet, the building right across my shop was scary and too eerie. I will be moving soon.

"Do you know what happened last week you were off?" Lola shifted closer to the counter to whisper.

"What?"

"Heard a man was beaten to death last week. It's a good thing you took some days off. I don't know why you insist on staying here. You could move this little Pastry down the block."

"That's just rumors. I've been here for four months, Lola, and I've never seen anything like that. The place looks eerie but I don't think it's that bad." I shrugged.

"If you say so. We gotta start packing." She said and I nodded.

It was time to go home. Italy in winter was a good season for the weather but terrifying for night walks.

“Sounds like a vampire.”

“Sounds like money,” she says with a smirk. “You should deliver pastries there. Get yourself a secret billionaire boyfriend.”

I roll my eyes. “Right. And maybe he’ll take me to his blood-splattered mansion.”

“That’s the spirit.”

The pick-up phone dinged with a message. I pulled off my gloves and grabbed the phone.

It was an order message for three Tiramisu and two vanilla cream butter-ups. To be ordered to The Den, 801 Crescenta Street, Pueto Road.

I froze, skimming through the message once again.

That was....across from my shop.

"What's that?" Lola shifted forward and grabbed the phone.

"Oh my God."

"Yeah. Oh my God! What I'm going to do?"

"I say, we close the shop and open next week."

"I can't do that. I need more money to move soon."

"Then what are we going to do? Surely, you don't intend to go into that place this time of the night or any time of the day at all. That's a suicide mission, it's called The Den for a good reason." Lola frowned.

Of course, I know.

But three Tiramisu and two vanilla cream butter up?

That was much. Something I couldn't throw away.

"No, no, no. Don't look at me like that. We are not risking—

•

We stood in front of The Den, two boxes of cakes in my hand, as I waited for the Gate to be opened.

Lola and I had closed the shop and got our things, ready for any drastic action.

The gate opened and we- I was gestured inside as Lola had decided to wait outside and call for alarm if anything were to go south.

The building is silent. No music. No words. Just heavy silence, like the walls, are holding their breath.

The hallway beyond is dark-lit in low reds and gold. The air smells like smoke and spice and something else I just can't name. I take one step forward and another and another.

I keep walking; the hallway seems like a maze, a never-ending one, that is until I step on the threshold of a room.

I froze. My eyes were wide open, and my hands were clutching the two boxes I held. No word was spoken as more than thirty pairs of eyes snapped in my direction.

One minute.

Two minutes.

"He..Hello?" I tried to wave but failed as my breath hitched in my throat.

"Tiramisu?" I offered, raising the box up.

"Tiramisu? Who ordered fucking Tiramisu?" A voice rang out.

I waited for a few minutes.

"Not here, No one ordered Tiramisu." The man said impatiently, waving me off as they continued with their game of Monopoly.

"Uhm.. There was no name but it definitely said; The Den, 801 Crescenta Street by Pueto Road." I answered.

He sighed, brushing the part between his brows.

"Someone get the girl out of here. Aish _puttana_." (Italian-puttana —Whore)

Bang!

I gasped, the box dropping to the floor as I stared at the scene before me.

It happened so fast, I couldn't find my voice to scream.

Blood dripped down the black rug and across the marble tiles, running through the thin lines of the tiles.

The man who had spoken laid on the table, a bullet in his head and his eyes wide open.

The monopoly game was long forgotten as everyone now stared at the man who had pulled the trigger.

He frowned, glancing at his shoes that had gotten stained with blood and he sighed.

"Clean this up. You do not insult a woman. _Stronzo_." He said, pocketing the gun. (asshole)

I wasn't moving. Not yet.

I was still trying to get myself.

It was right in front of me.

He shot someone.

Someone just.... died.

"Get the lady a glass of water, Peter. She looks thirsty" He said.

I finally glanced at the Man.

He was— beautiful, with perfectly gelled hair and beautiful grey eyes. He looked everything a man was supposed to be.

A beautiful criminal.

TBC