Chapter 1
Petra POV
The scent of strong iron and the sounds of flesh being cut filled the room as I stood with six other people who acted as doctors. The job, assigned to us by the Mafia don, was not so simple and was somewhat dirty, if you ask me.
"Get me the bag." One of them said, as he held a short medical knife, which was an inch away from the ripped stomach of a man lying on the bed. Beads of sweat raced across his face, trying to get stuck between his bristles.
A woman handed him a bag containing a white substance. Without thinking too much, I knew instantly that the content in the bag was cocaine, a highly illegal drug around the globe. Although it was illegal, many people would do anything to have just a little in their system.
It was clearly in high demand, and the Mafia don was taking advantage of it. The drug would be produced, and in order to avoid suspicion, we were tasked with hiding the drugs among willing members of the Mafia gang.
There were high demands for this drug from other Mafia lords and drug lords in almost all countries, especially Chicago.
I watched as the man stuffed four bags of the drugs into the unconscious man while wiping away beads of sweat with his bloody hand. He exhaled audibly and set back to work, while the others provided him with the necessary instruments he may need for the operation.
One would wonder what my role was, as I was neither handing over any tools nor taking part in the operation. The mafia don had assigned to me a very important role, which was to inspect and supervise the medical team.
Standing there, I watched with a slight frown as they began to stitch the man up. I could clearly see how focused they were, and I knew that just a slip-up was enough to ruin everything and provoke the Mafia boss.
"Carry on, I'll be back." I said to them and walked past the shut door. Ascending a couple of stairs, I walked past a hallway, which gave off the scent of smoke, alcohol, and blood. I could also hear the voices of the rest of the gang members, and I was thankful for it, as I needed to avoid them as much as I could.
I wanted to relieve myself, and luckily, the restroom wasn't out of reach. Walking towards the restroom door, I suddenly got startled by the sound of whips coming from another room, which was followed by the sharp, ear-piercing scream of a man.
If there was one rule of the mafia gang that no one dared go against, it was to avoid the backroom at all costs. I knew that when dealing with the mafia, avoiding the backroom was the best move because it was used for operations by the mercenaries.
Though I knew the consequences of disobeying the rules, I couldn't help but get curious. Even as my instinct screamed at me to go away, my body went against its warning, and I found myself inching closer to the door.
The door wasn't properly locked, so it was easy for me to take a peek at what was going on inside. Sweat dripped on my face and my heart thumped loudly, as I couldn't help but imagine what would happen to me if I got caught.
Looking inside, I could see a man tied firmly to a chair. One of his eyes was swollen and purple from being beaten. His hair stuck to his face, and blood gushed out from a wound on his forehead. He looked slightly pale, and his lips were swollen as well.
"Where is it?"
A familiar feminine voice asked, and my eyes diverted toward a woman, who crouched before the man with a whip in her hand. There was no way I couldn't recognize Irene, the seductress with the whip in her hand.
Irene was my handler; she was tasked by the mafia don to protect me. She was undoubtedly a very beautiful and vibrant young lady. She was nicknamed 'The Merciless She-Devil by the rest of the gang members, due to her cold attitude and gruesome ways of resolving issues.
"ANSWER ME!!" Irene yelled at the man's face, startling me. She looked quite inpatient and furious, and her brows curled into an arch as the man just stared lazily at her without giving a single reply.
But as soon as he opened his mouth to speak, blood gushed out, falling on the ground and dyeing it red. His head was bent toward the floor, and he laughed, despite the pain he was feeling.
"You won't speak?" Irene asked about getting back up on her feet, as her patience had finally run out. As the young man stared at her without uttering a single word, she threw the whip across the room and walked towards a table. There were different objects on the table, and each of them was quite dangerous.
Her hand grabbed a knife, and she walked toward the man again, brandishing the knife in his face. "If you don't speak, I'll make sure you never do it again." She threatened, but the man remained silent, as if daring her.
To my horror, Irene did something that I knew would haunt me for the rest of my life. She took the knife and angrily cut the young man from the edge of his lips to his ear, which drew out a lot of blood and another piercing scream that didn't sound like a normal scream.
The scream was high-pitched and was accompanied by the flapping of the loose skin that was once part of the cheek. Tears welled in my eyes as I watched the horror before me. Even as I placed my hand over my mouth to suppress the gasp, I couldn't help but feel like it wasn't enough because of what happened next.
Irene's eyes flew toward the door, causing my heart to race even faster and my head to begin to bang. "Who's there?" Her voice, which sounded like the call of death at that moment, rang in my ears.
I didn't dare to respond, but I slowly moved away from the door. My heart thumped loudly, and I felt nauseous.