Chapter 4 A Deadly Encounter

I walked down the stairs gently, the realization hitting me that I had failed to get some money. "What am I going to do now?" I whispered, my voice barely audible. My legs led me through the crowd, dancing and music blaring in the side of the club, amidst all the displays of nudity. I found myself at the bar. "A drink..." I croaked, suddenly finding myself holding a glass of wine. Drinks ordered by us were usually placed on the house, so we wouldn't have to pay for them. But should I be drinking? I needed something, anything to distract me from all that stood before me. I wasn't drinking to feel better. I wasn't drinking to feel anything at all. I just wanted to stop. Stop thinking. Stop remembering. Stop existing. The world around me began to blur, the edges of the room fading away like everything was melting. My head felt heavy, the weight of everything catching up to me. I tried to stand, but my legs gave way, and I stumbled. Before I could hit the ground, a strong hand caught me, steadying me. "Hey, sexy. Wanna come home with me?" the voice came through like a whisper. It was one of the customers who had come in looking for a good time. Maybe this was it, my ticket to getting some money. But if the house found out that I stayed late, working at the customer's home, I'd surely be in trouble. Still, he must know the danger before he asked, and this was my only chance. Giving the risk, it was worth it. I nodded and soon found myself outside the club with the man, slowly leading me through the dimly lit streets. "Wait here. Just got to get my car first," he said, leaving me with a flickering smile as he walked a short distance away. I rested my back against a nearby wall, holding up my body so I wouldn't stumble, as my eyes were still blurry, and I couldn't catch a proper glimpse of what was happening. Releasing a sigh, I shut my eyes for a moment. My ears picked up on whispers that grew louder by the second. They felt like cries, a weeping sound followed by a mumbling of words. Managing a few steps, I walked through the street, approaching the source of the voices and using the walls for support so I wouldn't stumble. My eyes landed on four blindfolded people. From their clothing, I could tell they were students, but I wondered what was happening and why they were blindfolded. As a figure approached, I hid and leaned against the wall, slowly peeking out to catch a proper glimpse through the dark, shadowy area. It was Dominic De Santos, the infamous owner of the Moonlight Club and the most feared mafia lord. No one dared to look him in the eye, and some said he was nothing compared to his brother, who remained a mystery to many, including myself. I questioned what he could possibly want with these students. I watched as they removed the blindfolds from the four students' faces—three boys and one girl. "So why did you do it?" Dominic uttered, bending down a bit, his eyes narrowing in fury. "I am sorry, we had no idea. Please let this slide," one of the students pleaded. "Let this slide? You came to me, you said you needed the work, and I needed students who wouldn't raise suspicion since my business is done both on school grounds and on the streets. But you ended up messing up. I mean, I wouldn't have guessed that a bunch of teens would have tried to stab me in the back. So you work for Gregor, one of my family's greatest enemies, double-crossing me and ratting out all my dealings to him?" "Please, we won't do that again, Dominic, sir, please," the student begged. "Oh yeah, you won't, because I will make sure you don't," Dominic said, standing up and shifting his gaze to one of his men behind him. "Take care of them. Don't kill the girl. She might end up being useful. You can kill the three of them." He left, and I watched as one of his men brought out a gun. In a swift motion, he pulled the trigger, and I saw one of the students fall to the ground, their blood splattering around the area. My face paled, my eyes frozen in stunned silence. My legs stepped back as I slowly retreated, the echoing cries of the students fading to a gentle hum that suddenly fell silent as the bullet pierced through the air. My mind could only process one word: 'run.' As I turned to flee, my purse fell, hitting the ground, and for a moment, my body froze, my eyes fixated on the bright light pointed at me. "She's a witness. Don't let her escape," I heard them say. My legs moved frantically, attempting to escape, but my intoxicated state made my steps clumsy, and I kept stumbling to the ground. I refused to give up, leaning against the wall for support after a fall. Eventually, I found myself on the roadside, mere inches away from being hit by a car.