The Mafia King's Thief

Rid

Alessio's POV

I did something I did not intend to do at all. I just couldn't control myself.

To be completely honest, I'm shocked she waited that long to even think of getting herself a phone because I know her to be very disobedient and headstrong. I'm watching her intently–I'm also watching the rest of the staff. It should have occurred to me when I handed her one of my credit cards to get whatever she wanted.

Another thing that shocks me is the fact that she hasn't gotten anything over the top since I gave the credit card to her. And she hasn't even made that many purchases. If I had not called her to warn her a few minutes ago not to even try to buy a phone and she had successfully gotten the one, it'll be two purchases, but since I interrupted her little online search, she's made only one purchase.

It's as though she's trying to impress me or show me that she's good with money management. This isn't even money management. She's trying to send a f*****g message to me and I'd be damned if I said I didn't get the message.

She purchased f*****g decorations for Christmas. Looking at her, one wouldn't even think she's the type that gives a f**k about Christmas or the rest of all of those other festivities. Me, I do not give a f**k. What matters is that I have to keep doing what I ought to do and I'll be f*****g fine.

Anyway, let's get back to the action that was going on before I caught her on an employee's phone, trying to find stores where phones are sold.

About an hour ago, this fucker seating on a chair in front of me, tied to a chair spat on my f*****g face and it's going to be hell to pay.

Let me do a little backstory of what happened after that lady followed me to the library and ended up getting shot in the head. Trust me when I say that the expression she had as a corpse wasn't what a woman like her would have wanted. Men can shoot themselves in the head when trying to commit suicide because they don't give a f**k about what their final facial expressions are like, but women tend to shoot themselves in different places.

Anyway, that happened to be the last bullet in his gun and fucker as the name implies knew he was f****d. He tried running away, but I was able to get to him before he exited out of the library and I dragged his ass back to the residential building I stay on the island.

It's been a whole f*****g week and he has refused to speak. I'm not in shock since I have yet to do anything major in terms of torturing him–I haven't even tried to inflict any form of pain on him.

To be honest, I have my reasons.

He does not look like one who can last long. He'll be dead before anything even begins and I really do not want to risk losing him since I don't know where he is from or who he is, but the fucker looks Russian and I'm really suspicious, but I'll wait till he speaks before assuming anything–as though he's shown any signs that he'll speak soon.

That thought angers me, but sadly, it's the truth.

I take off the mask covering his face and he continues to make those crazy noises as though he's an animal. I don't really know what he's trying to achieve, but I want to tell him to stop it.

"You know you are wasting your time here. You can just give me what I want and go your way, but you've wasted a week here. Do you want to continue like this?" I say, stooping low so that our eyes are on the same level.

Can you believe that this fucker still does even respond after that talk. Well, cheers to doing it the hard way.

Honestly speaking, I don't know why as humans, we are so complicated and headstrong. I made sure to generalize that term because it's all humans.

Anyway, someone is presented with an easy way to do something and a very difficult way and he still goes ahead to choose the difficult way.

He shouldn't blame me but himself when he sees that there is no going back.

I've been feeling a little merciful as of late.

"You have one last chance to say whatever you have to say. Let's just say I'm pleading with you now. You aren't listening to me. When it gets to your turn to plead, know that I'll pay you dust." I tell him.

He doesn't even respond.

He begins to laugh like an i***t, and before I know what is going on, he pulls out a knife from somewhere, opens his mouth and stabs himself.

My eyes pop wide open in shock and all the words you can use to describe it because what the actual f**k?

This is not something that should surprise me since I've witnessed s**t like this so many times. A percentage of people would rather die than let their master's name slip from their lips.

What I did not expect was for him to pull out a weapon and stab himself. If anything, I was expecting a gun. That means for a whole week, he's had that thing with him. I wonder why I never noticed–well,the man did not make it obvious. He did not constantly dip his hand in his pocket as though he was trying to kill me.

Now that I do think about it, he must have had it in mind to stab me with the weapon that is now stabbing his throat, but he probably figured out it would not work, and so he thought 'let me just kill myself' and kill himself he did.

I mean, kudos to him since it's not his cup of tea anymore. He is not the one who is going to figure out how to get a dead body down the elevator or stairs without being caught.

I'm not even thinking straight right now, honestly speaking.

This is not my first time dealing with a body but this happens to be the first time it is on the last floor of a residential building on an island with no one to contact nearby. This is messed up. This is the reason I did not plan on killing him.

If it was by the water, it'd be ten times better.

I sit down on the bed and begin to think and that is when my brain decides that it would not work. There's a dead man sitting on a chair in the room and I have to get rid of his body and I have till midnight to do it. The janitor comes in by then to do some cleaning because she assumes most 9f the occupants will be fast asleep.

Before he died, while the janitor came by, I always told him to leave my room and just lurk around the halls until she was done with cleaning all 9f the rooms on the first floor. One would think he was her very annoying husband who wouldn't give his wife breathing space all because he claimed to be trying to protect her. The janitor never noticed anything unusual going on and I'm grateful for that. All of that is in the past. I have to sit down and think of how to get rid of this lifeless human. My brain is playing f*****g tricks on me and I do not appreciate it a single bit.

An idea pops up in my head, but I shake it off as quickly as it came.

Well, the only thing my brains wants me to do right now is to go to all of the rooms in the building–are you f*****g kidding me? There are like seventy rooms here or probably even more–and kill all the occupants one by one and then it wants me to proceed to the receptionist and kill her as well, that way, the road will be clear and there will be no one to get in my way. I don't have a f*****g gun! What a bummer!

Just as the idea of me going to kill people in their rooms disappears from the surface of my brain, another one pops up and this one is quite reasonable. My brain wants me to go to each and every room of this building and mess with the locks of the door so that it'll take a while before they can get in. Well, the doors of this residential building use fingerprint scanners before they can open. Once registered at the reception, the fingerprint will be scanned and that is what residents will need to open their doors and when they leave, it'll be deleted until a new person lodges in.

The second idea seems very achievable. At least it would not be close to a hundred dead people today.

I close my eyes and inhale sharply for a very long time before getting up. I shut the door and make sure to lock it so that no one would have access to it while I'm not there. It's not as though the dead can suddenly rise and so, I'm not really bothered by the dead man in the chair. It hasn't even been five minutes since he died and it wouldn't be until a few hours before his body will start to decompose. I have to get it out of there before then.

I did not really sit down and think this whole 'messing with everyone's luck' through. I have nothing but my hands to mess it up.

While I'm in front of the first door that I plan on f*****g up the lock, something replays in my head.

It's a conversation that the receptionist was having with her boss when I lodged in here a week ago. If the wrong fingerprint is placed on the scanner five times, the person or persons occupying the room will be locked in there for a while. They'd have to erase the details and re-scan it again before it opens and from what I heard, it's not something easy.

That's all the motivation I need because before I know it, all of the fingertips on my right hand are hovering around the scanner. After the first two attempts, I get warned that after five attempts, the door will be locked. I do not feel any ounce of concern for the occupants in the room because I need to get that dead man out of this building.

The door of the room finally locks and that's it for the occupants. I do that for the remaining rooms on the floor. There are about ten or so rooms. Honestly, I'm not even counting. My mind is focused on getting the job done. I can't afford to leave traces.

I get to the floor below the one I'm on and I do the same for all of the rooms. I have about five floors to go and adrenaline rushes in me. I'm in a serious haste to do this thing. I don't even think about the after because everything has consequences, but I'd be damned if I even stop to think about this one.

Before I know it, I'm at the reception. The receptionist is not at her desk. Does the universe want to make this easy for me? If it does then I'm grateful. I hear sounds coming from the restroom and that tells me there's somebody there. There's a ninety percent chance that it's her. I mess with the lock as well. She'll be crying by the time she figures out that she's stuck in there. I go to where her computer lies on the desk and I pick it up before roughly tossing it on the ground.

That fall is great and so is the sound that comes from it crashing onto the floor.

I get into the elevator and make my way up. I get to the room where I stay. I don’t know why I’m suddenly having silly thoughts. I’m thinking someone walked to the door and also messed with the lock of my door. More like ‘do to others what you want them to do to you’.

Fuck!

I did not clean the blood before going on my mission to f**k up everyone’s lock. It’s been about two hours, give or take and the whole floor is covered in blood. Today just seems like the day to do other people’s jobs. Firstly, I messed with people’s locks, now I have to wipe the blood from the whole floor and then I’ll have to dispose the dead body. It just keeps getting better and better, doesn’t it?

I spent about an hour wiping the blood from the ground and till this day, I never knew I was good at cleaning.. I wrap the body in tons of bags. It has become very stiff.

I exit the building and get into the bushes before entering into the forest.

❦

I'm done with the messy work. Now, it's time to get her a stylist.