Chapter 1

Chapter 1

          Fortunate-that is the word I would use to describe myself, despite being dispossessed. I sat and watched as a police officer violently dragged a prostitute to a holding cell, provoking her to hurl aggressive curses at him. Some of the words she used were ones I'd never encountered before. The most disheartening aspect of the scene was that she appeared to be no older than fifteen.

"What are you looking at, bitch?!" she yells. I instantly turn my gaze elsewhere, feigning disinterest as if I weren't the only one sitting here.

I felt a surge of anxiety as I occupied the same spot where I had sat the night before. This time, however, I wasn't here to report anything; instead, there was a sense of relief knowing that different police officers were working this shift.

My employer had dispatched me to this cold concrete hellhole to deliver work-related documents to her husband, the captain, with explicit instructions to keep the envelope sealed and hand it directly to him. If my life hadn't been on the line, I would have bypassed the captain and handed them off to another officer an hour and forty-three minutes ago, but the weight of her orders kept me rooted in place, anxiety gnawing at me.

I absolutely detest running errands here; the place sends chills down my spine. Normally, I could be in and out in under five minutes, but recently, it feels like criminals are throwing their own twisted celebration, wreaking havoc with vandalism, bank heists, kidnappings, and every other crime imaginable. Lost in these thoughts, my mind wandered back to last night's chaotic events, and after much deliberation, I concluded that it would be wiser to keep my mouth shut and not draw attention to myself.

         After three more minutes of uncomfortable waiting, I suddenly saw police officers streaming out of the small building, urgently discussing a body they had discovered with a gunshot wound to the head. My hands began to tremble uncontrollably as the reality of the situation sunk in; the image of that dead man haunted my thoughts, intensifying the dread that had settled in the pit of my stomach.

I found myself increasingly anxious for the captain to arrive, grappling with the grim thought that the murderer might have actually left the body there. How could someone be so heartless? I could only imagine the anguish of the poor man's loved ones, who were likely waiting in hope for his safe return, completely unprepared to face the devastating news of his death.

"What's this I heard about a dead body?" a familiar voice inquired, slicing through the chaos around me.

My heart raced so violently that it drowned out all other sounds, forcing me to concentrate on my breath, urging myself to just breathe. "Everything will be alright," I whispered internally, but the words felt hollow, a comforting lie facing the grim reality unfolding before me-nothing would ever be alright again.

"They discovered a deceased man in the abandoned warehouse thirty-two minutes away from here. It's not much of a loss; they identified him as the Mafia."

My heart raced even faster at the shocking revelation. The Mafia? The elusive figure synonymous with danger in the city, whose true identity was an enduring mystery. I had only seen a blurry image of him once on the news, entering a grocery store, but that was enough to understand his significance. He was the head of the Mc Mafia Clan, the very backbone of an organization that thrived on fear and power; without him, everything could unravel.

"Is that so," the familiar voice replied, sending a chill down my spine.

My eyes widened in realization-I was standing in front of a man who had just murdered the Mafia. Panic surged through me as I faced the captain, trying my hardest to evade the gaze of the man beside him, whose presence felt like a noose tightening around my throat. All I wanted was to hand over the documents and flee, praying I could escape as I had before, but now the stakes were higher than I'd ever imagined.

"Joeniya, what are you doing here?" the captain asked, his tone tinged with curiosity.

The man beside him, his voice smooth and laced with amusement, chimed in, "Joeniya, that's a beautiful name."

My throat tightened as I swallowed, forcing myself to meet his captivating grey eyes, which were hauntingly familiar-the same ones that had loomed over me in a nightmare the night before. Mischief danced within them, and the smirk on his lips sent a jolt of anxiety coursing through me, hinting that he remembers exactly who I am.

"Take your eyes off this one, Ace. She's trouble," the police captain warned, but I found myself unable to tear my gaze from the cold-blooded killer beside him.

There was something magnetic about him, his tough guy persona radiating an allure that reminded me of the very type my boss warned her daughter to avoid. As he casually ran his hand over his short black hair, I couldn't deny that he was the epitome of eye candy, yet beneath that charm lay a cold heart and an even darker reputation. To make matters worse, the camaraderie between him and the captain only deepened my unease, suggesting that danger lurked far closer than I had anticipated.

"I can handle trouble," he declared, his unwavering gaze locked onto mine, sending a thrill of defiance through me.

His assertion echoed in my mind, reminding me of the captain's warning and the stark reality behind it; while I may have been a thorn in their side, I was hardly a match for the menace standing beside him. It struck me with bitter clarity that, although I was viewed with suspicion by the captain and his family, I was just a mere annoyance compared to the cold-blooded killer who seemed utterly unfazed by the warnings surrounding him.

"Believe me, she's nothing but a homeless nineteen-year-old. There's nothing special about her," the captain remarked dismissively, as though I were invisible.

I lowered my head, fighting a wave of humiliation, but my eyes flicked up when I heard the killer's voice cut through the tension. "The girl is standing right in front of you, Patrick, show her some respect. I'm sorry if he hurt your feelings, Joeniya." His unexpected defense startled me, igniting a flicker of hope amidst the condescension, making me question the dynamics at play and why he chose to stand up for me.

I stood frozen, my mouth slightly agape, grappling with the unexpected twist of his defense. Was he jesting, or did he genuinely mean it? In that moment, it didn't matter; no one had ever stood up for me before, especially not someone like him who wielded such power in the room. Just as

I began to unravel the implications of his words, the captain's voice cut through my thoughts, harsh and belittling. "Joeniya, stop staring at the man like a dumb bitch and tell me, why are you here?"

Panic surged within me, but before I could respond, the Ace guy erupted, his intense glare directed at the captain, sending shivers down my spine. "Patrick! Do not disrespect her like that." The room cracked with tension, and I suddenly felt like both a pawn and a key player in a dangerous game.

The captain's disdain was palpable as he brushed off Ace's attempt to intervene, redirecting his simmering anger towards me. I felt a familiar chill of dread wash over me, yet it barely phased me; I had endured worse.

"H-here," I stuttered, thrusting the envelope forward, and he snatched it from my trembling hand, a sneer curling on his lips.

"Now get out of here! Don't you have other tasks to attend to for my wife?" He spat the words, his glare piercing through me like a blade. I nodded, heat flooding my cheeks with shame, and hurriedly exited the station, my heart pounding.

"Joeniya," I heard that devilish voice calling after me, smooth and haunting in its Italian lilt.

Panic surged, and I broke into a desperate run. Behind me, his laughter echoed, a sinister melody that danced in the air, followed by words that would haunt my nightmares: "You can run, bonita, but I will always find you."

I knew luck had never been on my side; "luck" and "Joeniya" simply didn't belong in the same sentence. Yet, facing the reality of my situation felt like an insurmountable burden. The man I had witnessed commit murder-the very act that shattered my already fragile existence-was tied to the police captain, a shocking revelation that only deepened my dread. If he could eliminate someone as powerful as a Mafia leader without hesitation, then my vulnerability took on a terrifying new dimension. To make matters worse, he now knew my name, and the chilling certainty settled in my gut: he would find me, and when he did, I wouldn't stand a chance against his wrath.

The swirling thoughts were giving me a headache, akin to the turmoil I felt when I pondered the complex history of God and human evolution.

One thing was clear: this man was hunting me, a relentless shadow looming closer with each passing moment, indifferent to my desires or fears. There was no escaping the inevitable-he was coming for me, and I had no choice but to confront the storm brewing on the horizon.