TWO: THE BEGINNING

Elena's POV

"I know this isn't who you are, sister. And I'm so sorry that even in death, I'm still causing you trouble (lol, well, one of us has to be the wildcard). You have to find it in you to avenge me, please. That's all I ask, for my sake and all the other girls. Elena, he made me do this, Jer…"

I'm outside where it all started, reflecting on that last paragraph of my sister's letter. It's been a week since Serena died, and that part of her letter haunts me the most.

I buried her quickly and quietly in our family's mausoleum, where Mum and Dad were buried, too. I didn't tell anyone at work. Okay, I told Tobey. It's so strange how he was a firm shoulder to lean on. He asked severally why I suddenly needed a job as a bar attendant in a rough nightclub linked to the Mafia. He wondered why I would want to throw away my bright, budding pediatric nurse career.

But I never told him. How would I have even started? Would he understand? Will anyone understand why I have to fulfill my dead sister's last wish? Even though I don't have a single bone of violence in me.

Growing up, Serena was always the stronger of us. The wildcard, the one who dared to give random school guys blowjobs at parties, then go on to smoke crack with them.

I, on the other hand, was the exact opposite. We are mirror images of each other, but our behaviors couldn't be any more different. I remember our yoga instructor in high school calling me weak several times. That was back when our parents were still alive.

That's why I eventually decided to become a nurse; not just any nurse, but one for kids. It's how soft-hearted I am.

But ironically, it's also why I have to do this. I don't know how I'd execute my sister's avenge plans, but I must. Serena was unbreakable; she was a dancing star in the jungle. But the unspeakable deeds done to her pushed her over the edge. From all she told me in the letter and all I gathered from endless hours of studying about them, the Cali Mafia pretty much gets away with everything.

If I don't avenge her, then all her pain and suffering would be for nothing. I don't have it in me, but I must.

The first step was to get this job as a bartender in the Red Bull club in downtown Michigan, a long way from home. I didn't even know places like this existed. I have never had more than a glass shot of alcohol in my life. And it was my sister who made me.

According to her letter, which I have read God knows how many times, this is where she was abducted.

I dug into all public police records I could find about the Cali Mafia and found that they would hit clubs and anything else owned by rival Mafias, especially the Russians. Then, they would abduct whomever they see. They'd ship or fly off the girls to Singapore to be auctioned. While the men would either be released after an outrageous ransom is paid, killed, or conscripted to the Cali Mafia.

It all made me sick to my stomach, but that's exactly what Serena also described in her letter. Before getting this job, I didn't tell anyone back at the hospital I was quitting, maybe because I'm not sure if I'd ever come back from this the same.

Applications for any job opening at Red Bull can only be made through the dark web. It's how nasty and dangerous the club is. I didn't have a clue about the dark web, so Tobey helped me out. Their representative or whoever responded 24 hours later gave me a passcode and a pickup point.

Tobey insisted on accompanying me, but I refused. If anything went wrong, I didn't want his death on my conscience, too. But luckily, nothing went wrong.

It's been three days since I started working here, shuffling to and fro from the cheap hotel I'm staying at, just a mile away.

I'd be lying if I said I haven't been scared shitless. The Mafia hasn't come knocking yet, and no staff at the club knows when they'd. However, according to Serena's letter, her abduction happened on the 15th of July. My research into the Mafia also showed that they seemed to hit all businesses owned by rival Russian Mafias on the 15th of July. They've been doing so for five years now, and either the police are clueless, or they've been paid to keep looking the other way.

The Russian Mafia owns the Red Bull Club.

Well, today is the 15th of July, and my heart has been pounding furiously all day. That's why I stepped outside to get some air. In between, I reread the letter, especially that last paragraph, and rethought all my plans.

 It's 11:47 pm now.

 "Oi! New girl! Are you going to sit there moping, or will you ever get back to work?"

It's the man with a face browner than tobacco and more scars on his neck than I've ever seen on an accident patient. He was the representative who picked me up and, more or less, the manager around here. I haven't had time yet to understand the club's leadership, especially because that's not why I'm here.

I stand to leave, and he shoves me forcefully from behind.

"Oi, move along now! Word is those bloody Italians might hit us tonight, so we'll be closing up soon. Are you a twin or something? We've hired you before, right? Don't answer that; just get going; I'm drunk as hell."

I cautiously heave a sigh of relief.

 "And don't come back out until—"

The cracking wheeze of bullets and blood splattering all over my shirt stops me cold. I turn back to see the representative on the floor with more holes in his head than I can count.

It's the Cali Mafia. They've hit exactly on the date Serena, and my research said they'd.

Nauseous panic takes over, and I fall flat to the ground just as the automated DJ mix changes from Rae Sremmurd's black Beatles fades into Drake's mob ties.

How perfect. Sh*t, sh*t, sh*t!

The bullets continue to fly, and I can hear screams and bottles shattering from inside. I shut my ears and hope to God none of the bullets hit me. The dead representative's blood has pooled around and drenched me.

"You know the drill boys! Round up all the girls who aren't dead yet to the black van and the men to the brown one!"

"Make it snappy, lads, and check everywhere", another voice says.

I'm prepared for the worst now. I hear angry boots drawing closer to the dark corner by the backdoor where I'm lying.

"We've got one here!" One of them shouts. His excitement is eerie.

I don't resist. Serena said resisting makes it worse. They bundled me into the van with a bunch of other girls who are whimpering, crying, and wailing all at the same time.

I try to be strong. Even though I want the ground to open up and swallow me, but I must be strong— for my sister.

Right before they put dark hoods over our faces, I catch a glimpse of him.

He's exactly as Serena described him but even more deadly-looking than the pictures online suggest. But neither Serena nor the Internet said a thing about how carelessly handsome he is—tall, broad, and dangerous.

I remember the last line of the letter. "Elena, he made me do this. Jer…"

That's him. Jeremy Cali. The Head of the Mafia that drove my sister to her suicide.

"Move along, lads. Straight to the airport. Then, to Singapore. You know the drill", he says.