Chasing The Story

The Mafia

Demitri’s POV

I peer down at the slabs of human meat scattered across the concrete floor, sighing as I shake my head in disappointment. “Such a f*****g waste. He was a good little guard,” I mutter, stepping over the mangled body parts, the smell of fresh blood saturating the air like metal and rot.

“Little guard?” Tony, my human butcher, chuckles, wiping his blood-soaked hands on a rag that’s already stained crimson. His usual smirk twists his face. “This guy had more meat on him than anyone you’ve ever brought me. You call that little?” He kicks one of the dismembered arms like it’s a slab of pork.

I sigh again and nod, crouching down to pick up one of the severed hands. “True, but look at these hands.” I toss it to Tony, who catches it mid-air with a laugh. The fingers look like sausages, bloated and useless.

“f**k, could he even hold one of your guns with these sausages?” His words make me chuckle, despite the situation.

“Who knows. He barely lasted a week before f*****g up.” I shrug, stepping over more of the butchered mess. “I’ll send in a cleanup crew. Get the room ready for the next one.”

Tony waves me off as I walk out of the butcher shop, the metallic tang of blood still clinging to my clothes. That was my morning—a nice, quiet start to the day, watching Tony hack up the i***t guard who thought he could gather intel on my operations. The fool hadn’t even made it to any sensitive information, but I couldn’t take the risk. Now he’s in pieces.

I climb into the back of my black SUV, where Axel, my right-hand man, waits for me. His grin tells me he’s got the information I’ve been waiting for.

“Check your phone,” Axel says, his eyes glinting with amusement. “I sent you the file on that dark web girl. The one who wants to shadow a f*****g criminal.”

Two days ago, some naive little girl posted on the dark web, asking to shadow criminals. At first, I laughed, thinking it was a joke—some college kid writing a term paper or a troll looking to stir up trouble. But then, the more I thought about it, the more curious I got. Something about her post intrigued me. She tagged me, and that’s not something just anyone can do. Coincidence? Maybe. A setup? Possibly.

So, I had my people dig into it. Turns out “Nova,” her pseudonym, is real. She’s an author, and from what I’ve seen, her books aren’t half bad. They’re filthy—dark, twisted. She has a mind that revels in the shadows. But this move? This was reckless. I need to know if she’s genuine or if she’s playing some kind of dangerous game.

I pull out my phone and open the file Axel sent me. The moment her details pop up on the screen, I smile. Her real name is Alissia. She’s twenty-six, lives with a woman named Jenni in a small apartment. I click the link to her social media, and there she is.

Alissia is striking. Pale, flawless skin that practically glows, with jet-black hair falling in sleek, straight strands to her shoulders. Her sharp cheekbones frame a pair of intense green eyes that seem to dare the world to come at her. There’s a softness to her lips, a slight smile in most of her pictures, but something tells me she hides a lot behind that smile. There’s an edge to her, something darker beneath the surface.

I study her picture for a long moment, taking in every detail.

“So, boss,” Axel says, glancing at me through the rearview mirror, “what’s the plan? You want to scare her off, or are we playing this out?”

I lean back in the seat, the ghost of a smile tugging at my lips. “Let’s play it out. If she’s as naive as she seems, it’ll be fun. And if she’s not… well, we’ll see how deep her curiosity runs.”

This isn’t the kind of thing I usually entertain, but there’s something about her that makes me curious. Maybe it’s the nerve she had to post on the dark web like that, to come directly into our world. Or maybe it’s because she had the audacity to tag me. Not many know my name on there, and yet somehow, she did. Coincidence? Or something more? That's the thing that pulls me in more.

I scroll through the latest replies on her post, and my gut twists with a mix of amusement and unease.

“You want a shadow? How about I bury you alive and let you feel what it’s like to suffocate in darkness? You’ll have plenty of time to think about your next chapter.”

“You won’t need to write fiction when I’m done with you. I’ll carve my story into your skin, one letter at a time. Trust me, you’ll remember every word.”

“I can show you how a real killer works, Nova. But first, I’ll test your nerves. I’ll be in your house before you even realize I’m there, watching you sleep, deciding when to make you scream.”

“You want inspiration? I’ll give you a front-row seat. You can watch me drain the life from someone, and then I’ll turn the blade on you. Let’s see how fast you can write then.”

The comments are darker than usual today, each one dripping with malice. They’re waiting for her to slip up, waiting for her to realize how deep she’s gone into a world she doesn’t belong in. I can almost hear the sick amusement in their words, the thrill they get from tormenting her.

For a moment, I feel the urge to hunt down these bastards and make them apologize. But no, this is her mess. She put herself in this situation. Still, I can’t help the frustration that rises in me. She needs to get off the dark web now before someone takes her seriously.

Axel’s watching me closely. “If you’re going to do this, boss, now’s the time. You know how to make sure she’s not wired.”

I’m not worried about her being wired. What I’m worried about is her insanity. No one in their right mind would do this. She’s not stupid either—her file shows she’s smart, damn smart. So why this reckless move? Desperation? Maybe. But this is beyond desperate—it’s f*****g suicidal.