My Tragic Mafia Life | ✔️

19

Josephine's chest collapsed when she was released from her binds, any amount of pride and hope turning ugly and rotten, pooling to the pits of her feet. She was cold. Shivering at each glimpse of skin exposed to bare air, she struggled in finding  peace wrapping skirmish arms around her midriff. It would have to make due.

"We're going to the back," Were the first words spoken that weren't a threat, a death sentence. Josephine darted her face to the kind words, kind in a sense, and saw the frown of Beatriz awaiting her.

Josephine tried to ignore the fact that she was the one who caused her to be drenched, as fat goblets of water beads ran down her skin. She glanced to the buckets at bay in the corner, before Beatriz stood forward.

"You can follow me." She said roughly, before jerking towards what must have been the back. Josephine remembered that she had limbs, limbs free of bounds, and when trying to stand, staggered a bit. Cursing, she felt a slow loom of feeling return to her anklets, hot blood pulsing through.

None of the figures watching her with annoyance offered any ounce of support as she skirted around the rope tattered at her feet, realizing she was barefoot.

Beatriz guided Josephine behind the chair. Josephine squinted through the fickle lightning drowned out by shadow and tin flame, a menagerie of oil lamps lighting towards the exit. A large door.

Self-conscious of her state, Josephine tried squeezing her bundles of clothes drenched in liquid as she slumped the way towards the exit, puddles trailing her gait. The squelch of her feet against wood echoed across corners.

She thought of Dante's warning. And if you look for a way to send for help, or if you don't get anything, I'll make you disappear. She could hardly believe the boy she saw in between classrooms, hidden behind the curtains of libraries, chatting emotionlessly in the hallways, had been the same boy who could speak such cruel, vile words.

Josephine knew Dante wasn't an idiot. Maybe a virgin, yes, but not an idiot. Whatever sort of criminal business he was involved in, he knew Josephine couldn't be trusted right off the bat. If she were in his position, she would do the same.

She expected a few tests here and there, and then she would become his spy. For whatever idiocy he needed her for, she would do it for her safety. Her survival.

Eyes still on the floor, Josephine followed the figures watching her intensely. They strode beyond hallways, millions of doors brimming at each corner and turn. Until she reached a massive room where men stood in lines with practiced, calm stances.

A flush of heat rippled towards Josephine as she realized she was in a lodge of some sort, lounges sprawled across an enormous rug. And when told to sit, she moved towards the fireplace. A wooden mantel full of burned wood lit Josephine's face in the middle of the wall. It must, she thought, had been decades since she had been in front of one. As if she were once more a child, she sat square in front of warm fire. Alone. The normality of it didn't bother her.

However, unlike the other times, she did not feel secure. The same wane of comfort did not distill, as figures took the couches beside her. For once, she was grateful that none of them took place besides her. She was content alone.

In the reflection of the metal bearings overhead, she saw only five perched with her. She recognized them. Houston, Isla, Deena, Beatriz, and at the center of it all, icy Dante. The rest stood silently in precise, cold-cut lines across the room. Like knights on duty.

She dared to look at him—and found Dante observing at her as well. She flinched, darting out of the peer of those empty, murky eyes glistening in the reflection.

Someone waved a hand, and the figures who stood guard stalked out the room. Josephine noted the tightness of it, their footsteps like jaguars stomping out of their den. A pack obeying its king. Dante.

His voice filled her with dread. "I prefer we have this chat eye-to-eye, Miss Williams. Or do I have to make you turn with force?"

The stiffness of his voice hurled her around completely, the burning fire steaming behind. She noted his formality, another thing unbeknownst to her of Dante. Miss Williams. Since when did anyone call her that? Only the servants at her mansion, but they did it out of respect. Her lips thinned. He was doing it out of spite.

Was it to mock? She couldn't tell. But she met his gaze, and regretted it immediately. She was back in the room, back in those binds—

"This is how it's going to work," Beatriz said firmly, seated wholly against Dante's side. She looked quite amused, even smug. Josephine didn't know how in this situation. "Every week, we're going to give you a list of things to find out and you're going to do it."

Josephine had the idea of begging, but the thought of it now... She needed to compromise. "I can't just waltz up to him and ask." Every instinct of her screamed to run, but she kept herself seated on the floor, locking her knees to avoid them trembling. "He'd find out in a second flat, especially if there were multiple things. I'd... I'd need time."

"You're not in any position to talk back." Houston drawled from his chair. A feline smile. "Unless you'd like to return to that lovely dungeon with the pretty ropes?"

Josephine bit the inside of her gums, remembering every part of it. Stupid. She scanned the room for any amount of exits but could only find the one behind all of them. Perfect. There were no windows but the sound of pittering rain heeded throughout the room. Useless.

Josephine did her best to keep her chin high. "Fine. Are we done?"

"We'll see about that." Dante said, his voice revolting despite the calm facade. "I like to keep my investments on edge. It gives them a chance to keep their guard up."

Investment. Josephine was an investment.

Of course, she deserved this—deserved whatever humiliation and suffering was in store—if only if she could have endured that greed of hers. She had walked into the school, willingly, even when they talked of murder. The fault was her own. She orchestrated her own demise.

But ... but she would make it out. Somehow. Even if she had to become a thing, not a girl.

A monster, not a being.

Hello my lovely readers!

I just wanted to say thank you all for 400 views. I was very shocked that you all have a guilty pleasure of mafia stories like me.

What do you think of Dante? Of Josephine? Of this situation?

Not much action going on, but the next chapter will be mainly dialogue and learning more of the characters. Stay tuned!

-Mel

Vote. Comment. Enjoy.