The Mafia's Plaything

Lara struggled to concentrate. She rubbed her eyes with pain, and frustration, her reality blurred into the screen behind her clasped hands. This wasn’t how she planned her life. She was supposed to have resumed College two years ago, studying to be an accountant. Her phone lit up with a notification. Her little sister, Cara, was seriously ill. The bills keep piling up, she thought. Her father was nowhere to be seen, again. This time, not even a message from him. Cara had only her now, and all her paycheck went into Cara’s health. Cara’s poor voice replayed in her head, “When are you coming home, Lara?” Lara wanted to be with her, but she knew better. She couldn’t go home now. She had to pay Grace, Cara’s babysitter, for extra hours. Lara didn’t anticipate she’d be at work this late, but she needed this job. She needed to show why her boss fought to make her the restaurant’s manager. She may have increased the revenue of the branch twice as much, but her boss was just the district supervisor. She needed more than charming smiles, even when she wanted to scream the roof off, or a hundred percent increase in revenue, to remain the branch manager. Her boss needed more to convince the board she was his long-term successor, and the right man for the job. After so long, the rain continued growing in strength, lashing against the weathered windowpane. It blurred the cityscape into a dismal, grey-like monochromatic haze. Inside, Lara sat hunched over her laptop. She should have listened, she should have left before the storm appeared. She wouldn’t have had to deal with this blackout. Her fingers tapped over the keyboard hastily, the accounts needed to be balanced before the financial meeting tomorrow. She always worked twice as hard as her other colleagues. The sudden noise of the doorbell numbed her fingers. Her gaze went up above the screen for the first time in a long time. “Hello?” Her voice was weak. She dropped her gaze to catch a glance of the time on her screen – 01:24 AM. Darn. She had instructed Damian to flip the door sign to CLOSED. Had he forgotten? She staggered up, snatching her phone from the table as she crept towards the door. Soft thud of footsteps halted her. “Hello?” Her voice, caught in her throat. She fumbled for her phone, flashing a bright light in the direction of the trailing footsteps. Her lips dry and cracked like her voice. “Hello?” Her voice bounced back off the walls. No response, only darkness. I should run, she thought, yet she needed the account settled. She reached for another step of courage, stretching her head to see the sign at the door. A low murmur followed by heavy steps caught her attention in the other direction. Lara froze. Who could be coming this late? Her claws gripped her phone tighter. “Lara,” a voice echoed, “it’s time to pay the price.” She lunged her flashlight in its direction, a surge of adrenaline coursed through her veins as she saw the figure standing in the kitchen, a menacing glint in his eyes. Wait, was it… oh no. A knife shimmered in his hand. “No, no, no!” A flight response kicked in, she took to her feet, barging through the glass door. Her hands shook uncontrollably. 9-1-1 had never been more difficult to fetch. Her heart raced in her mouth. Call the Police, Lara, call the police! The raging footsteps closed in on her. She dashed her phone away, picking up pace as she ran faster than her shadow. She didn’t dare look back. She just ran, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She didn’t know where she was going, but she knew she had to keep running. She was running for her life. Suddenly, her feet slid over the road, her legs and arms dangling in the air as her body fought to be released. “Get off me. Get off me!” A car screeched to a halt. “Get in,” a husky voice called out. “No! Please! I didn’t do anything. Please!” she struggled to wriggle free, kicking the wind as her body surfed in another direction: towards the car. Why was this happening? She needed to complete her task. Her sister! She couldn’t be gone. Her sister needed her the most. “Please!” Her eyes bulged, stretching wider as a black cloth covered her head down to her chin. Is this the CIA? NASA? FBI? What was going on? The husky voice beside the driver growled lowly, “Any more sound and you’ll lose your voice,” Lara swallowed the lump in her throat. He must be experienced at this. Her body was thrown into the backseat, the door slammed after her. The tires of the car sped off after the door at the other end of the back closed. The whole day had been almost the same as any other day in the restaurant, except for the threatening weather all day. There was nothing out of the ordinary. Disgruntled customers on the queue, unsatisfied customers asking for the manager to sort their mistaken orders, and a few eyes lusting over her. She hated that, but it came with the job. Customers are always right, right? Could their criminally-induced stares have been mistaken as lusting eyes? Yes! The guy in the baseball hat. He was the stalker. He walked behind her two blocks down the street before making a different turn to hers. But maybe, just maybe… “Get out of the car,” the husky voice derailed her train of thoughts. She didn’t realize they had moved so fast. She got out of the car, with help from someone, most likely the man that sat beside her, and kidnapped her. Well, technically they all did. “Take her Skull.” Wait. What! “Please. Please! Don’t kill me please!” Lara struggled against the air-tight grip of her guard. She couldn’t die like this. This made no sense, nothing made sense. A door creaked open. The smell of chocolate pastry and fresh flowers washed over her face. A scent so playful and light, welcomed Lara. Her feet dragged over a distance through the hallway, and came to a stop. The cloth over her face was yanked off, leaving her eyes blurry and difficulty making out objects in the room. Silence. Lara slowly regained her full vision. Where was she? The room was large enough to be regarded as a cathedral. If this was a room, what would the whole building be like? Now is not the time! Correct. She dropped her gaze, and there he was. The way he sat gallantly on the wooden seat large enough to take two giants was admirable. Two heavily muscular men flanked his chair, looking straight ahead. The man in a clean navy blue suit wasn’t the imposing one, but this arrangement screamed he held all the power. His suit was tailored to perfection, hugging his lean and muscular frame, with his broad shoulders accentuated. A crisp white shirt with a black, silky necktie, complemented the rich hue of the suit. Adding to its sophistication, and his style. “Please, sir—” “Shh,” he whispered, his finger brushing his lips as he signaled for her silence, “I will do the talking.” His frame fell back on his wooden throne. He crossed his legs in a graceful move. They were slender yet strong, exuding an air of quiet confidence. If Lara didn’t know any better, she would have sworn he was some creation out of a typical woman’s dream. “Your father owes me, and he owes me a great deal.” Lara’s voice trembled, “Please let me go, I don’t know anything. Please.” The man clicked his tongue, “Wrong answer.” He swung his upper leg, moving it with a fluid, effortless abandon. “You see, Miss Lara, your father gambled in my casino. He ran away with my money.” He narrowed his brows as if remembering the audacity. “But you see Miss Lara,” his voice got dark, “no one runs away with my money.” Lara’s face whitened as if she had seen a ghost. “Take a seat.” Lara hesitated, flicking her eyes from him to her guard who still stood behind her. “It is rather unfortunate we had to meet in this circumstance,” he continued, neglecting Lara’s fear, “I wouldn’t have wanted it to go like this, but the only thing worse than harming my family,” he took an eerie pause, “is stealing from me.” A cold, calculated look was worn on his face, “Now you work for me. You are his collateral.” Lara’s heart pounded in her chest. A wave of nausea washed over her. “Please, I can’t. I can’t…” her voice trailed off. She was drained of energy. Tired and hungry. He leaned forward, hard glint of a gun pulled from his waist, “Then I have no need for you.” He pressed the cold steel against her head. Her heart pounded like a drumbeat in her ears. The cold, hard metal of the gun pressed against her temple, sending shivers down her spine. Her breath caught in her throat as she tried to suppress a sob.