Curiosity Killed The Cat

After several minutes, John's car pulled up to 'Club Neon. A tall building that towered over the street. The line of luxury cars parked outside was a clear indication of the kind of people who frequented this place-people with money,and  influence. It was my first time coming here.

As I stepped out of the car, the cold night air brushed against my skin, doing little to calm the nerves that fluttered in my stomach.

John walked ahead of me, his steps confident, but there was an underlying tension in his posture. He may have been a big man at home, but here, at Club Neon, he was just another pawn in a game far bigger than he could ever control.

The entrance to the club was guarded by men who looked like they had seen more violence than anyone should in a lifetime. Their eyes were cold, scanning each guest with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine.

As we stepped inside, the club was filled with a sea of people—beautiful women in expensive dresses and men in tailored suits, it is truly a club for the elite. Every corner of the room exuded wealth and danger, a perfect reflection of the man who ruled over this city.

Lorenzo, the Mafia King.

Everyone in Hams knew his name, and everyone feared him. He controlled the city with an iron fist, his influence reaching into every corner, every shadow. And tonight, he was hosting this party—a gathering of the most powerful and dangerous people in the city. People who didn’t just break the law; they owned it.

I could feel the eyes of some of these men on me as I walked in, their gazes lingering on my barely covered chest. But before John could start pawning me off like he always did, two dangerous-looking men dressed in black approached him.

One of them whispered something in John’s ear and for the first time, I saw something in John’s eyes that I had never seen before—fear. Real, genuine fear. It was a sight that filled me with a strange sense of satisfaction. To see him, the man who had tormented me and my mother for years, finally scared of something—or someone—was almost enough to make me smile.

I watched as they escorted John away. I hoped, deep down, that he was in serious trouble. Maybe even enough trouble to get him out of our lives for good. The thought gave me a sliver of hope, a tiny glimmer of a future without him. My mom and I would finally be free.

Once John was gone, I decided to make myself scarce before one of these old men could have the chance to talk to me. So, I walked over to the bar, and when the bartender asked what I wanted, I requested a cola.

I stood by the bar, sipping my drink and watching the people around me. They all seemed so carefree, I envied them, their ability to smile and laugh as if they had no care in the world. I really wish that I could be like them.

After a while, the pressure in my bladder reminded me that I needed to find a restroom. I set my drink down and began weaving through the crowd, hoping to find a restroom somewhere in this maze of a club. I would have asked the bartender for direction, but he was busy attending to other customers.

I turned a corner and found myself in an unfamiliar hallway. My heart started to race as I realized I had no idea where I was. Just as I was about to turn back, I heard muffled groaning sounds coming from one of the rooms ahead. Every instinct in me screamed to turn around, to walk in the opposite direction, but curiosity compelled me to move forward.

As I approached the door, I noticed it was slightly ajar. I hesitated for a moment, my hand hovering over the doorknob. Then, against my better judgment, I pushed the door open just enough to peek inside.

What I saw made my blood run cold.

A man was kneeling on the floor, a gun pressed to his head by another man standing over him. The man holding the gun had a calm, almost detached expression, as if this were just another day at the office. And then, without a word, he pulled the trigger.

The man’s body crumpled to the floor with a sickening thud, blood pooling around him. My breath caught in my throat, and before I could stop myself, a scream tore from my lips.

Panic surged through me as I spun on my heel and bolted down the hallway. I could hear the heavy footsteps coming behind me.

I ran as fast as I could, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I darted down the hallway. But before I could take another step, a pair of strong arms wrapped around me, lifting me off the floor.

I kicked and thrashed, but it was no use—the man holding me was immovable and unyielding. I screamed, my voice echoing off the walls, but he didn’t even flinch.

“Please,” I begged, my voice breaking with fear. “Please, don’t kill me! I won’t say anything, I swear!”

He didn’t respond, just kept walking, his grip on me firm so tight it bruised my skin. The hallway blurred as tears filled my eyes, and I could barely make out the path he was taking.

When he pushed the door open and carried me inside, the first thing I noticed was the body still lying on the floor, the pool of blood surrounding it now forgotten. But it wasn’t just the dead man that made my blood run cold; John, my stepfather, on his knees, his face bruised and swollen, fear etched into every line.

If it had been under any other circumstances, I would have relished the sight of him humiliated, finally brought low by someone more powerful than him. But right now, all I could feel was pure, unfiltered terror.

John’s eyes widened when he saw me. “What the hell did you do?” he spat, his voice trembling with both anger and fear.

I couldn’t respond. My throat was tight, the words trapped somewhere between my mind and my mouth. I was too stunned to speak, my gaze locked on the man standing in the center of the room—the same man who had pulled the trigger just moments ago.

Lorenzo.

This was the first time I had ever seen him in person. And now, he was looking right at me, his dark eyes boring into mine with an intensity that made my knees weak. He was every bit as terrifying as the rumors made him out to be, commanding respect without needing to say a word. The gun was still in his hand, held loosely at his side.

He took a step closer, his gaze never leaving mine. My heart pounded so hard I thought it might burst. Then he spoke, his deep, baritone voice sending shivers down my spine.

“What are you doing here?” His tone was cold, calm, but there was an edge to it that promised consequences if I didn’t answer.

I opened my mouth to speak, but no sound came out. My mind was racing, trying to find the right words, trying to make sense of everything that had just happened, but I was too scared to think straight.

Lorenzo’s eyes narrowed, and he tilted his head slightly. “I hate repeating myself,” he said, his voice dropping a note lower.

“I-I was looking for the bathroom,” I stammered, my voice barely a whisper. “I got lost…”

Lorenzo’s gaze hardened as he glanced around the room, then back at me. “Does this place look like a bathroom to you?”

I shook my head quickly, too terrified to say anything else.

“Who are you here with?” he asked, his tone sharp.

Before I could answer, John spoke up from his spot on the floor. “She’s with me, sir. She’s my stepdaughter,” he said, his voice trembling. “But I didn’t ask her to come over here, I swear—”

Lorenzo held up a hand, silencing John instantly. His attention returned to me, and I could feel the weight of his scrutiny, as if he could see right through me.

“What is your name?” he asked, his voice a low growl.

“Lucia,” I blurted out, shaking my head again. “I didn’t see anything, I swear. I—”

“You should know better than to lie to me,” he interrupted, his tone calm but laced with a threat that made my blood run cold.

I shook my head frantically. “I didn’t see anything. Please, just let me go.”

For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. He just stared at me, his expression unreadable. I could feel my pulse pounding in my throat, each beat a reminder of how close I was to the edge of something terrible.

Finally, he nodded, almost to himself, as if he had come to some sort of decision. “We’ll see,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.