Sokolov

Chapter One

The devil is in the details.

That's what they say anyway. At this very moment, the devil is in an expensive black and white Armani suit one balcony below me in a mock 19th-century theatre in the middle of High Point campus in North Carolina. A teardrop chandelier streams down the middle of the theatre like a glass plated waterfall, hanging high from a vaulted ceiling. The lighting is dim, hardly casting enough luminescence around the great space. I stare at the intricate design of those hanging diamonds and try to determine their value. This thing must have cost a fortune.

The theatre is completely empty, save for the man who has forced me here, his three business partners, and 12 armed guards equipped with assault rifles. There is one guard for each exit inside of the theatre and one more guard on the outside. There is a guard on each level by the elevators and at least 6 more walking the grounds outside. To try and escape this place would be impossible, and I can't help but recount my previous attempts to flee while I stare absent-mindedly into the luxurious diamonds of the chandelier.

My eyes begin to blur, and I look away, catching the devils frosted blue eyes as he glances up at me. I swallow hard and look away, as I've been doing for the last hour. Each movement I make I can feel him look at me, waiting for me to disobey him so I can succumb to a later punishment. He sits surrounded by three other men, all dressed exquisitely-expensively. They usher quite words amongst one another, business deals in the making. And as bored to tears as I am, I continue to wait quietly and curse the man one balcony below.

His name is Alec Sokolov, the sole proprietor, and leader of the Russian Mob stationed in Boston. I like to refer to him as the devil, an asshole, an overpaid pig. A man who has stripped me of my freedom and my dignity all in one check. I know what you all are wondering; how did I end up in this situation with him? Or perhaps you've drawn up conclusions of your own, that I've sold myself to a man with an inflated paycheck because I had a large debt. That I've accepted a marriage proposal from some whack job to escape a life of poverty. But none of you would be right in this situation. For you to truly understand how my life became so wrecked I'll have to take you back a few years ago before it all came tumbling down.