CHAPTER 6

They say that the eyes are the mirror to the soul, but his eyes were cold and dark. Atlas Drakov sat in front of me, arms sprawled lazily over the side of the chair, my vision was brought to his face.

His hair was a light brown in colour and slightly wavy, styled in an angled side slick and fading at the back. His eyes were a cold and lifeless blue that seemed to be able to look straight through to the soul of a person. His jaw was unbelievably defined outlining his strong bones and face shape, this man had been perfectly molded in Heaven, a fallen angle.

His appearance was built, and his muscles were defined underneath the expensive suit that he wore. Tattoos snaked down his neck and under his shirt, this man was fine, deadly fine. How did someone get to look this good? On his wrist from under the sleeve of his shirt my eyes were drawn to a separate tattoo, this one was in the shape of a square and read something in what looked to be Italian, but I couldn’t make out what it said.

Jay and another man who looked to be in his early twenties approached Drakov and stood either side of him. Jay bent down and whispered something into his ear. Drakov slowly creeped his head up and brought his gaze around the room, eyeing off every single one of the men there.

“Alfio,” He called out a name. From the crowd of men emerged a small and scrawny looking boy of about twenty-five. His hair was tanned in colour and wispy, his eyes were terrified and big.

“Yes sir?” he stuttered, tripping over his words. His eyes scanned and darted from face to face around the room, either pleading for someone to help him or begging that one of them didn’t shoot him first.

“I’ve heard word that you’ve told others of your involvement within the mafia,” Drakov spoke, his tongue like poison, the venom was spilling out over his lips with each word he spoke. The boy shook in his boots, quivering and trembling.

“Sir no, I would never,” the boy begged helplessly. Drakov didn’t stare at the boy, but rather flicked at parts of his gun, admiring it with such passion, giving it his full attention. It was as if the gun was more important than the boy. He was meaningless and disposable, just another pawn in his sick game.

“Then why, why has your sister been telling all of her friends that her brother is in the Italian Mafia?” Drakov hissed coldly, sending a shiver down my spine.

“I- she promised she wouldn’t tell anyone!” the boy pleaded.

“You know the punishment for breaking our code Alfio, your sister will be joining you soon too,” Drakov aimed his gun and with the slight movement of the trigger, a bullet was fired through the middle of the boy’s head.

My stomach churned as he fell limp to the floor, blood oozing from his now lifeless head. I gagged but managed to choke down what was nearly a vomit.

Drakov’s eyes remained indifferent, cold, heartless, and uncaring for the terrible act he had just committed.

“You,” He pointed a finger to Rosa, “Clean this up whore,” he demanded. Rosa gulped, her already pale and lifeless face had seemed to grow even whiter in colour. Turning to me, her bottom lip trembled, a clear lump in her throat.

“Blood makes me sick,” she choked, covering her mouth for the fear that she was going to throw up. Fear lingered in her vision, disobeying an order would mean certain death, Jay had made sure I learnt that.

“You’ll die if you don’t clean it,” I whispered back soft enough that Drakov wouldn’t hear. I shot a glance back at him, he pointed the gun, aiming it at Rosa. I heard the next bullet slip into place, his hand was on the trigger, ready to fire.

“Now whore,” He demanded her, slowly and unsteadily she rose to her feet, taking baby steps towards the boy’s lifeless body. He threw her a towel, covered in the stains of previous victim’s blood. This was sick, utterly sick.

Rosa bent down cautiously, gagging and sobbing as she went, unable to look at the scene in front of her.

Drakov placed the gun into his lap, turning behind to start up a conversation of hushed whispers with Jay and the other man, leaving Rosa to do her work. Jay’s eyes fell on me before returning to Drakov, fuck, were they talking about me?

Suddenly though, Rosa froze, she began to gag and to choke.

If she was sick now, he was going to kill her.

“I can’t do this,” She spluttered, turning away from the body, her terrified eyes finding me and begging for mercy, for help.

I shoved my eyes back onto Drakov who had momentarily paused his conversation and was picking up the gun from his lap.

Fuck this shit.

I was going to die anyway, whether that be today or tomorrow I had no idea in this place, but I wasn’t about to see another person laying dead on the floor in front of my face.

“No!”

I stood up frantically, using my body as a shield for Rosa’s. She whimpered and sobbed herself silly, hiding behind me like a small and terrified child.

“You can’t shoot her,” I attempted to make my voice sound as demanding and venomous as his. The room however just erupted into a fit of judgmental laughter that made me feel smaller than what I already was.

A look of surprise crossed his sinister face for a split second before it turned malicious again. I kept my eyes locked on his icy blue ones, wondering if he could see right through my fake confidence act.

The pool of fear in my stomach continued to rise and we were locked in a battle of eery and awkward silence. His faced remained like stone, expressionless and cold, whilst my mask of strength began to crack under the pressure of his glare.

His gun was still raised and remained point squarely at my chest.

He could kill me if he wanted to. I had never felt so embarrassed, so worthless, and so small in my entire life.

I would have rather be dead then trapped in a cage for the rest of my life, owned and used like an object.

He could shoot me right here, right now, but he didn’t.

Instead, an evil smirk crossed his venomous face, and he broke the silence with two sinister and sickeningly evil words.

“Come here.”