章 2: chapter 1. Bad Luck Running Into Big Boss
[chapter 1. Bad Luck Running Into Big Boss]
The wind bellowed, the trees clattered, and the sky sank into the deep hue of ink.
It was just another night of plotting a murder. The bustling city in the morning was quieter than the graveyard by night. Everyone knows what happens when the night comes and the monsters who lurked in the dark alleys and roamed freely in the empty streets.
Only a fool would suppose that the world is a safe place. Unknown to the danger that lurked in every corner.
"Boss," the blonde man offered the lighter. The blue ignited flame danced with the breeze and lit the face of the beast dressed as a gentleman. The man inhaled the cigarette until the end seared and let out a perfect wisp of white smoke.
Black leather gloves concealed his hands that toyed with the nicotine cylinder between his long fingers. He hollowed the cigarette listening to the sleazy words of the buyer until he crushed the remains under his boot.
"Mr. Sullivan," the bald man said in glee, his voice thick with Russian. His tone filled with politeness and pleasantries, he knew the other party was not the one to be trifled. The power the name Sullivan held was unfathomable.
His eyes brightened at the sight of the gold bars he exchanged for a piece of paper. "It's a pleasure doing business with you," he laughed merrily.
The Sullivan boss exchanged a blank stare with the man. The Russian man let out a peal of nervous laughter, incompetent to hold the brooding gaze of the big boss. Sweat trickled down his forehead.
"It will always be a pleasure as long as we make profits," the blonde replied in perfect Russian. The right-hand man Alaric spoke for his boss. A sly smile plastered across his face. It was beneath for Sullivan to speak to such a filthy being. The only reason the big boss tolerated his presence was for information.
The Russian nodded casually, ignoring the right-hand man's words. His entire focus was solely on the big boss. Only he deserved it. Others were nothing more than dirt under his feet.
The brooding man's eyes narrowed. A disrespect to his men was a disrespect to him. And it did not sit well with him. "Leave," his deep baritone voice echoed throughout the area. Vladimir bowed his head, hugged the suitcase filled with gold to his chest, and left promptly.
"The bald fucker is going to die soon," grumbled the blonde. The bald man's arrogance would lead to his demise. How dare he ignore him.
"Alaric," warned the boss. Some things should not be said aloud, especially near the serenity of the lake while leaning on the car.
Alaric bowed his head in submission. Nobody could overlook the presence of his boss; it was unavoidable. His tyrannical demeanor and vicious aura screamed that he had walked straight out of the deepest pits of hell.
People around him stood upright, mindful of his venerable identity, while he maintained his lazy stance leaning his head to the wall with his eyes closed, too bored for this world.
Alaric stilled, his gaze narrowed near the large trash can and the maroon hoodie probing against the green box. His eyes constricted, noticing a human shadow cast by the moonlight on the brick walls.
His legs moved faster than anything else as he yanked the person up, grabbing their wrists firmly.
The agile men in the vicinity aimed their guns at the unknown person, ready to shoot on command. The boss did not bother to open his eyes but raised his hand. Everyone lowered their weapons while maintaining a hostile gaze on the stranger.
"How much did you listen?" snarled Alaric. His eyes seethed. He was beyond furious, and the person before him would die before they could blink.
"I-It hurts," a feeble feminine voice cried out as the individual struggled to unhand themselves from him.
When Alaric discovered it was a girl, and a young one at that. His eyes widened. The oversized hoodie disguised her frame as he mistook her for a boy on the street. His hold loosened but remained firm enough to prevent her from fleeing. Now that he observed her, she looked small and frail. Her wrists were thin enough that he could break them with a snap. Weak.
Her head shot up, her eyes widening in horror as she looked at the burly man. Then she lowered her head, not daring to look at him twice. He could feel her erratic breathing; the girl was panicking.
"What is your name?" he inquired, his voice cold. When he heard a small whimper, he scowled. Damn, girls. He clenched his jaw.
"M-Maeve," the trembling girl replied. Her petite frame appeared even more timid and tiny. She resembled a deer trapped between the tiger's teeth.
"Maeve, how old are you?"
"F-Fifteen," she cried. Her voice was barely above a whisper. When she felt his nails digging into her skin- the young girl let out a sharp hiss. Alaric slowly loosened his grip when he identified her as no threat. He pinched his nose and sighed harshly.
"Kids like you should not be out late at night," he remarked. "Let go of me," she struggled against him. "Dad is waiting for me!" she screamed and pushed the man with all her might, only to fail. He cursed her parents for allowing her to roam the streets after midnight.
"How much did you listen?" his voice became harsher than usual.
A choked sob escaped Maeve's lips. A threat loomed over her, so the girl's gaze lowered to her shoes instead of the man. The girl appeared meek. With the shadow of innocence over her.
She let out another sob.
Alaric cursed.
"Be a good child, stay at home, and never go out at night," he growled, letting her wrists free. The girl rubbed her sore hand. Nonetheless, she was sure it would leave a bruise.
Alaric was a bad guy, even worse than the monsters your mother had warned. Don't care about mentioning the big boss. Not when Alaric trembled under him like a wet dog. But he had a concise, barely, but he had one. If it had been anyone else, the girl would have ended up dead in the ditch, or worse she would be sold to the nearest brothel.
She should consider herself lucky.
"Leave."
Listening to his command, she frantically nodded and turned eager to leave with her tail on fire. She needed to get away from these men, especially when she saw the metal barrel flashing against the blonde man's waist. It meant trouble.
"Stop."
The girl came to a complete stop, stumbling. Her heart rate spiked. The voice was deep and gruff. It had a wave of command that no one could refuse.
She gulped and turned around. Her eyes shook as she did not dare to look up. The harsh fingers pinched her chin and lifted her head as the hoodie cover fell back, revealing her face. She let out a gasp.
The man watched her tear-stricken face pale and bask in fear. Her red brimmed olive eyes fluttered, and her full lips wobbled, letting another cry escape. He eyed her vigilantly. Interest flashed within his obsidian eyes as he examined every expression on her messy face.
The fact he had not felt her presence was surprising but even more impressive.
When she saw his face, her heart skipped a beat. And her legs almost gave way. He was the big boss! One command from him and she would be dead meat. For once, she felt fear in her bones.
His pupils constricted into thin slits; her appearance was pitiful enough to turn any human soft. But he was human, not humane. Tears did not work on him.
Those teary eyes held so much innocence- something that he had lost years before. Did he even have any of that, to begin with, he wondered. "Forget what happened today, little girl," he mused as his thoughts wandered to the girl. His tone was low, almost crooning.
"Yes," she nodded, biting her lower lip to prevent another cry.
"Go," he said, releasing her chin. She ran.
Alaric observed the girl run with all her might. He cracked his neck and relaxed his muscles.
"She has good luck. Vladimir didn't seem to notice her," Alaric said, running his hand through his hair. "Luckily, we were speaking Russian," he exhaled. "I didn't want to kill an innocent child today."
The boss watched his right hand. His lips curled subtly, his eyes raking over to the path the little girl ran and back again at his aide. "Fool."
----
Long gone were the tears. The girl wiped her cheeks against the soft cashmere. She closed her eyes, appreciating the cool breeze on her face and inhaling a breath of fresh air. Her face twisted into pure boredom as she sauntered with nonchalance.
The previous trembling lips curved into a wicked smirk and the fearful eyes shimmered with nothing but unadulterated mirth as an eerie chuckle rumbled from her chest.
"Who knew I'd have such bad luck running into Big Boss Rafael Sullivan."
~~~~
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