Entangled With The Mafia

Chapter 10: Total Chaos

Amelia

I didn't even realize I had fallen asleep.

The apartment is entirely dark. I stub my toe on the corner of the bed and let out a frustrated sigh. My toe starts throbbing, but I don't have any time to waste. I check the time, and I gasp aloud. I'm late. Again. This can't be happening.

I'm not necessarily late, but I will be in thirty minutes. I grab my bag and navigate through the dark. I lock the apartment, fly down the staircase and run out of the building. I manage to find an empty cab. The driver turns to me and asks, "Where to?"

I still haven't memorized the address, so I show him Jason's text message. "Can you get there in twenty minutes?"

He whistles. "Don't think so, lady."

I open my purse and get out a new bill. "Can you do it for a hundred dollars?"

He snatches it from me. "I guess we'll see."

The entire time I'm clutching my purse until my knuckles turn white. Devon's right. I can't let Jason's death ruin my plans. As sad as I am that he lost his life, it could've easily been me. I need to focus now more than ever because I've lost my guide. I must keep my eyes and ears open. I can't lose this job.

We get there right on time. There's this line of people waiting to go inside. I show my ID and practically run to the bar. Damien is sitting there again, but this time he's with Ethan. I make eye contact with Sandra. She looks at me with a puzzled expression. She's surprised I'm here. At this point, everyone's heard about Jason, so why would his cousin come to work? She's supposed to be grieving. I soon notice that all the other girls are looking at me in the exact same manner.

I didn't think this through. I was just so desperate not to lose this job that I didn't think how bad it would look. They all stop what they're doing and stare at me. Literally staring, with wide eyes.

I'm about to turn to leave when Damien turns his head. I watch his face go from surprised to disturbed. Then violently angry. What's happening here? Why's everyone looking at me like that?

I put my hands up in defense, but when I hear a gunshot, I instinctively fall to my knees. They weren't looking at me. They were looking at this lunatic who's pointing his gun at them.

Everything happens in under 10 seconds. I hear multiple gunshots right beside me. I see the man holding a gun and shooting in the bar's direction. Damien and Ethan are on the floor, not moving. The glass bottles and the entire shelf collapse. The sound of breaking glass fills the room. There's shouting or shrieking, but I don't know if it's just in my head or not. My ears are ringing. I place my hands over them.

Slowly, the man turns his head. He sees me on the ground, right by his feet. I see everything happen in slow motion. He's wearing dark sunglasses, and a mask covers the lower half of his face. A plain black cap covers his head. I don't know why I registered all these details. He takes note of me and raises the gun. It's right in my face. I see the muzzle and his finger hovering over the trigger.

He pulls it, but the gun only clicks. He does it a second time, then a third, and it's just the clicking sound. My body jerks with every pull of the trigger. He then drops the gun and rushes out of the door. No, not the door. He goes down the corridor, and I see some guards going after him. The gun is right by my left hand. Discarded. More gunshots down the aisle.

I'm glued to the floor. I can't will myself to move or to breathe. My brain hasn't registered all that's happened yet. All I know for certain is that I'm supposed to be dead, and by some miracle, I'm still alive. There weren't any bullets left, or I'd be dead. I touch my face, and a strange sensation runs up my arm. I look around once. There's so much commotion. Damien has gotten to his feet, and so has Ethan. So they're not dead. Behind the bar, a woman is screaming. Her hands have blood on them; there are shards of glass in her hair.

When did I get to my feet? All I know is that I'm standing behind the bar, and there are dead people everywhere. Blood stains the floor. There are some splatters on the bar itself. The girl's still screaming. I've realized she hasn't been shot. She just cut her hands with the broken glass everywhere.

I see Sandra lying on the ground with her eyes wide open. The bullet hit her chest. There's blood pouring out of the gaping wound. Another girl's head has completely exploded to bits. The sight is too much for me to handle. I don't think I've ever seen this much blood. I throw up, yet nothing comes up. Nothing but some froth.

The woman continues screaming.

I've never fainted before, but this is as close as I will ever get. I'm lightheaded, and all my limbs feel detached from my body. The room is spinning. I see black dots, but it soon clears.

Someone tugs my arm, and I see a man. His lips are moving, but I can't hear a word he's saying. The screaming woman is being carried away. She's stopped screaming and is instead sobbing. The man takes me by my arm. I urge myself to move one foot in front of the other. I look to my left, and I see the shooter being restrained by the guards. The door to the nightclub is closed. They've removed his sunglasses and mask. Damien is standing in front of him. He's shouting, but I can't hear what he's saying either. I only know that he's shouting.

He hits the man across the face with a pistol, and I flinch. Just as they're out of sight, Damien points the same pistol at him and shoots. The man's blood is all over his face and suit. He averts his gaze, and his eyes meet mine. I can't see anything else because we've rounded a corner. This is where his office is—the door's wide open.

The sobbing woman looks up as I approach. There are other people in here, some men and the old secretary. We're around 20 in total. I stand by the door and clutch my bag. Surprisingly, I still have it. It's still on me. Apart from the woman, no one else seems hurt. Why are we here? Why not take whoever is injured to a hospital? She has a lot of cuts on her hand, and there's a small pool of blood by her feet.

Yes, this is definitely his office. There's a desk and some files on top. There's a lamp, a photo frame, though I can't see who's in the picture. A few paintings are hanging on the walls. Apart from that, it's pretty simple. Just an office, nothing more.

The door opens, and Damien stops and looks at everyone. Since I'm standing right by him, he skips me. I can see the tiny drops of blood on his suit. He's wiping his face with a handkerchief. The guards follow him inside. He sits behind his desk. It's like he'll be conducting a meeting, but what's there to discuss after what happened? Some people need urgent medical attention.

"You all know the drill," he says, even though I have no idea what the drill is. "This doesn't get out. Don't bother telling the cops because they're not going to listen. If you go to the hospital, make up an excuse. And if anyone no longer desires to work for us, they can do so right now."

As soon as he finishes saying this, some people start walking out. The sobbing woman leaves, too. When the door closes, only a few of us remain–the four men who were standing by his desk, his secretary, and me.

He looks at me as he lights a cigarette. "And you, Miss Huxley? I'm surprised you want to stay, considering what happened to your cousin."

I need to think carefully about my answer. I know I've nearly been killed. If that gun had been loaded, I would be dead, just like Sandra and the other barmaids. Yet, I can't leave now. "I have nowhere else to go."

"There's always someplace to go."

"Not for me," I assure him.

He nods as if he gets me. "Move closer, Miss Huxley."

I do as he says. "That's not close enough." When my legs are just about touching the edge of his desk, he takes a pistol from the inside of his blazer. He sets it on his desk. It's the gun the shooter used. How wouldn't I recognize it when it was pointed at my face not 30 minutes ago?

"Take a good look at it because you'll see many of these around here. I can't guarantee you that what happened out there won't happen again." Everyone in the room is looking at me. I don't know what else to say, so I nod.

"You've made your decision?"

"Yes."

He pauses. "This is what working for us is like. It's not risk-free. But you already know that, don't you, Miss Huxley?"

I freeze. I come up with something quickly. "Yes, sir. Jason told me."

He looks me square in the eyes. I was wrong when I said the brightness of his eyes didn't match his vicious personality. His eyes aren't bright; they're icy. "Welcome to the Keller Association, Miss Huxley. Come by Monday morning for your contract."

I assume this must be him dismissing me, so I turn on my heel. When I reach the door, he says, "By the way, this pistol still has a couple of rounds. Do you know what that means?" I turn around. He looks smug, almost. I can't possibly comprehend why. "It means you were born under a lucky star, Miss Huxley because you should've been dead."