Chapter 0002

Ace POV:

As I lay there on my bed, the mix of annoyance and irritation swirling within me, Aiden's relentless tickling at the sole of my feet continued despite my protests. Nitwit.

"Stop it, Aiden, before I come and kick your ass," I finally managed to grumble before letting out a sigh and rolling onto my stomach.

Aiden's disappointed gaze met mine as he shook his head in disbelief. "Come on, Ace, wake up, we’re all here to see your ungrateful ass, and you’re behaving like that?"

Glancing around the room, I noticed the familiar faces of my friends scattered across the space.

Aiden perched at the edge of my bed, Felix leaned casually against the door frame, his eyes scanning the room.

While Liam lounged on my bed, absorbed in his phone as always.

Leo and Liam, inexplicably, had squeezed together as if there wasn’t an entire room around them.

Hudson sat on a nearby table, giving me that stern glare of his, the kind that made me feel slightly amused.

Hudson never could hide his disapproval, no matter the circumstances.

Alexander, ever the peacemaker, was trying his best to calm Hudson down.

These are my friends from my childhood and college days.

My room only had a small couch and nothing else. I despise having furniture in my bedroom.

Before I could even fully open my eyes, Hudson’s voice cut through the morning haze, as sharp and insistent as ever.

"Ivan said you killed someone," he said, his tone laced with that signature concern, though I could hear the weariness behind it, like it was something he had expected from me.

I grumbled, sitting up a bit and rubbing my face as I stifled a yawn.

"Yeah, I did. And that's none of your business, Hud," I shot back with a defiant tone, trying to dismiss the topic before it could go any deeper.

But Hudson wasn’t done. He never was.

Alex interjected, his voice tinged with genuine concern. "Ace, did you forget our ethics?"

Meeting his gaze, I could see the disappointment written all over his face.

But I wasn’t in the mood to play the ‘right and wrong’ game today. I wasn’t some naive kid who could pretend the world was black and white.

"No, I didn’t," I replied bluntly, making sure my voice held the edge of finality.

“It’s not like he was innocent. He was a fucking pervert who raped more than twenty kids. So I helped mother nature a little bit. Now, if you’re done interrogating me, can someone tell me why you’re all gathered here in my fucking bedroom?"

Felix, who had been quiet up until then, suddenly put on a dramatic expression, placing his hand over his chest in offense.

"That hurts. I thought you must have missed us," he teased, his voice dripping with faux hurt.

Rolling my eyes, I retorted, "Well, I didn't even a bit. So do whatever you want; I have work to do and responsibilities to attend to. Don't disturb me," my annoyance was palpable.

Liam mused quietly, "I told you he would not break the rules," his observation echoing Leo's nod of agreement.

“I’m out," I muttered, getting up from the bed and heading toward the bathroom to freshen up.

The last thing I needed was to get caught up in their moral lectures.

The clock struck 7 in the morning, casting a golden hue through the large windows of the dining hall, illuminating the faces of those gathered for breakfast.

I was sitting at the head of the table, my coffee mug half-full, the sharp scent of it mingling with the aroma of freshly cooked eggs and oats.

Alex, sitting across from me, leaned in slightly, his brow furrowed.

“Remember the kid, Noah?” he asked.

I raised an eyebrow. Yeah…Noah. I forgot about him.

“Go on,” I muttered, chewing my food slowly, letting the words hang in the air.

Alex didn’t waste time, continuing in his flat tone.

“It’s already three weeks late, and Noah hasn’t paid his full amount.”

That caught my attention. Noah was just another spoiled rich kid who thought he could play the game without consequence.

He was the product of an entitled world, but one that knew how to manipulate it.

His father had made it clear years ago that he wouldn’t hand Noah any money unless he proved he could handle it.

And yet, here he was, digging himself deeper into debt.

He went and borrowed a staggering 10 million from many shady sources. Including me— 1 million.

I leaned back in my chair, taking a moment to process the information.

“Have you contacted Noah?” I asked, my voice flat.

“Yeah,” Alex replied.

“He said he’ll pay today, but I definitely know he won’t. So, what’s he gonna give?” His words were laced with doubt, and I could hear the resignation in his tone.

As I sat in silence, Alex waited for me to say something, but I didn’t offer him anything.

Instead, I took another sip of my coffee, letting the silence stretch between us.

Finally, Alex spoke again, the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Bad omen for Noah,” he muttered, jokingly, trying to lighten the mood.

In the business world, lateness, delays, and unreliability were the worst kind of sins.

There was no excuse for them— especially when it came to money.

If you owed someone, you paid. Simple as that.

And when you didn’t, well, that’s when the consequences arrived, swift and unforgiving.

“You don’t look angry about that. Do you feel pity for him?” Alex asked, his tone curious as he studied my face.

I didn’t bother answering. Instead, I glanced at him with a raised brow, a silent gesture that made him tsk in exasperation.

He already knew my answer.

I already knew Noah couldn’t pay back the money, But I gave it to him anyway.

Why?

Because I wanted a backup young body to relieve my stress.

Well, helping Mother Nature by restocking. Amen.

I couldn’t believe the audacity of this little punk. Five minutes late already, and still no sign of him.

The soft hum of jazz music filled the room, wrapping around the dimly lit space like a sultry veil.

Strippers swayed gracefully on their platforms, their movements mesmerizing the retards, while servers navigated the tables, balancing trays of expensive liquor and cigars.

The air was thick with smoke, whiskey, and the faint scent of overpriced cologne.

Ivan and I sat in our usual spot, a secluded booth at the far corner of the room.

I sipped my beer, the bitter taste doing little to soothe my growing annoyance, while Ivan’s eyes scanned the room, ever vigilant.

Ivan, on the other hand, looked like a hawk ready to pounce on its prey, his head turning toward every movement.

"Ivan," I said, breaking the silence, my voice low and clipped. "Did this kid think he’s the boss, or me?"

Ivan smirked, though his eyes never stopped moving.

"Who knows, boss. Maybe he’s trying to play games. But he did say he was here, so either he’s lying, or..." He trailed off, his tone a mix of apology and irritation.

Suddenly, his eyes locked on something near the entrance. He tilted his head slightly, murmuring, "There he is."

I followed his gaze, my irritation intensifying as I spotted the little bastard. Tsk.

But then my eyes narrowed.

Not only was this toothpick dick was late, but the audacity— he’d brought a girl with him.

In a place like this, where mafia dealings involving exchanges of illicit goods and human lives took place without remorse.

She wasn’t dressed for the occasion either, her head bowed and covered by a worn-out hoodie, the edges frayed and stained.

The fabric hung loosely on her small frame, making her look even tinier.

She stumbled slightly as Noah dragged her forward, his grip on her arm tight enough to make her stay beside him, firmly.

Ivan glanced at me, his brow furrowed. "What the hell is this?"

I didn’t answer, my eyes fixed on the pair as they moved towards our booth.

She looked like the size of a mushroom.

Noah’s voice trembled as he spoke, the grip on the girl’s arm betraying his desperation.

"Mi scusi, signore, sono in ritardo (Sorry, sir, I am late)." He kept his head low, his tone quivering, trying to mask the fear that oozed off him like a pungent stench.

"Il mio denaro? (My money?)," I responded calmly, though the underlying threat in my tone was unmistakable.

Noah swallowed hard, his eyes darting nervously around the room. "Sì, capo, a questo proposito non posso pagare l'intero importo, ma ho già pagato la metà (Yes, boss, about that, I can’t pay the full amount, but I’ve already paid half)."

The nerve. He said it like he expected some kind of gratitude for scraping together half.

"Pensi che stiamo giocando o qualcosa del genere, Noah? (You think we’re playing or something, Noah?)" I inquired coldly, my patience wearing thin as the facade of civility began to crumble.

He straightened up slightly, his desperation more evident now. "No, capo, so che al momento non sono in grado di rimborsare l'importo rimanente per intero. Chiedo gentilmente solo un'altra settimana per raccogliere i fondi necessari (No, boss, I know I am currently unable to repay the remaining amount in full. I kindly request just one more week to gather the required funds)."

A week. Another fucking week. Always the same story.

I can’t kill him, yet. I have a human in the basement which will be enough for a week.

"Va bene, se siete disposti ad offrire qualcosa di valore in cambio, sono disposto a prorogare la scadenza di un'altra settimana (Alright, if you are willing to offer something of value in return, I am willing to extend the deadline by one more week)."

Doubts crept into my mind as I pondered his ability to meet this condition.

He's a spoiled brat living his life on his father's money and fame.

Noah’s face lit up, like he thought he’d found a way to wriggle out of the noose.

"Sì, capo, a proposito di questo... puoi avere questa ragazza temporaneamente (Yes, boss, about that... you can have this girl temporarily)," he said, his voice smooth, casual—detached.

The way he spoke, as if he was offering a mere object for temporary possession.

"Mi stai prendendo per il culo? (Are you fucking kidding me?!)" I retorted fiercely, unwilling to entertain such a degrading offer that went against my principles and values.

As I glared at Noah, I saw a flicker of surprise in his eyes, as if he hadn't anticipated such a vehement reaction.

My eyes shifted to the girl squirming beside him, and she immediately looked down, sensing my attention shifted towards her.

In that fleeting moment, as I observed her demeanor, an overwhelming sense of nostalgia washed over me.

I sighed and pushed away the memories and focused on the present.

How in the hell she ended up with this bastard.

Her head hung low as if she were too fearful to lift it, her small fingers nervously toying with the fabric of her sleeves as if trying to distract herself from the overwhelming emotions that consumed her.

The rise and fall of her chest hinted at a storm of tears that had likely been flowing unchecked for like ten minutes, leaving her visibly shaken and vulnerable to the world around her.

As I let my gaze sweep the room, I caught one of the men— a lowlife who frequented these gatherings— eyeing her with raw, predatory hunger.

His expression wasn’t subtle, and it didn’t need to be. No one here cared to hide their depravity.

They were scum, every last one of them. The kind of men who’d pay to see someone broken, who’d laugh at the sound of tears.

Noah suddenly stood up, his hand gripping the girl’s forearm tightly as he dragged her forward. She stumbled slightly but didn’t resist, already accepting her defeat.

Ivan started to stand, but I raised a hand to stop him. He complied, settling back in his seat, though his eyes never left the scene.

Noah dragged her closer to me, practically shoving her into my space. Maybe I should kill him now.

“Chi è lei per te? (Who is she to you?)” I asked quietly, my tone calm but laced with an edge sharp enough to draw blood.

I gripped her wrist gently but firmly, pulling her down to sit beside me.

"No one (Nessuno)," Noah murmured, his tone cold and detached, as if the girl was nothing more than an item to barter.

I sighed, my irritation rising as I turned my gaze to her again.

She dared a quick glance at my hand, then immediately looked down, as if the mere act of meeting my gaze might condemn her.

She was more afraid of this place than the humans in it.

Many people had tried to offer me women like this before, thinking it would buy them favor or time.

It never did. And those men?

They never lived to try it again.

Word had spread quickly after the first few examples I made, and no one dared to pull a stunt like that with me again.

Until this dickweed.

“È un'orfana? (Is she an orphan?),” I asked, my voice calm but edged with steel.

Noah nodded quickly, a spark of confidence returning to him as if he thought this fact would earn him some sort of leniency.

“Non ha nessuno (She has no one),” he said, his tone casual, as if her being alone in the world made her a more convenient offering.

There wasn’t a shred of shame in his voice.

I clenched my jaw, my irritation building.

I always send the girls back to their families. Most of the girls offered in situations like these were victims of trafficking.

It wasn’t difficult to trace them back to their homes and reunite them with their families— the lucky ones who still had families waiting for them.

But her?

Her being an orphan meant she had nowhere to return to.

"Portala fuori di qui, Noah (Get her out of here, Noah)," I said, standing up and turning my back on him. "Trova un modo migliore per ripagare i tuoi debiti. Non è questo il mio modo di trattare (Find a better way to repay your debts. This is not how I deal.)"

Noah’s face twisted in panic, his desperation bubbling to the surface.

"Capo, lei è tutto ciò che ho da offrire in questo momento (Capo, she is all I have to offer at this moment)," he stammered, his voice trembling as he tried to hold my attention.

His eyes darted around the room, searching for any sign that I might change my mind.

I sighed, growing increasingly frustrated with the unfolding situation. I didn’t have time for this circus.

I turned to leave, but his next words stopped me in my tracks.

"È vergine e così ingenua che farà tutto quello che le direte (She’s a virgin and so naive, she will do anything you say to her)," he blurted out, his voice cracking with desperation.

Slowly, I turned back, my gaze locking onto his with an intensity that made him rethink his words.

I’m no saint. I’ve done things most men couldn’t stomach. But I can’t cross this line. Again. Hurting a little girl.

Using a girl as a bargaining chip? Offering her innocence to save his sorry skin?

It was cowardly. Disgusting. Cheap.

In a moment of reflection, I realized that, despite the inner conflict raging within me, turning a blind eye was not an option.

If I didn’t take her, he’d sell her off to someone else. Someone worse.

This wasn’t just business for these men— it was sport.

Even if he killed her and offered her lifeless body to someone else, these men here would still buy her and use her.

It was a sickening thought, but the reality of this world was even more horrifying.

They were depraved enough to exploit even the dead.

To hell with all of this.

I looked Noah straight in the eye, my gaze unwavering.

"Bene, solo una settimana, poi sei morto se non hai restituito il denaro (Fine, just one week, then you’re dead if you haven’t repaid the money)," I said, my tone cold and resolute.

Each word was a promise. And I wasn’t one to break these type of promises.

I mean…I would kill him even if he repaid his debts. Meh.

Noah’s eyes widened, relief flickering across his face, but it was short-lived. He knew this was his last chance.

He scurried away quickly, like the rat he was, leaving the girl behind.

I exhaled slowly, my irritation tempered by a faint sense of responsibility I didn’t want to acknowledge.

“Dite a Melinda di preparare una stanza nella sede centrale (Tell Melinda to prepare a room in the headquarters),” I murmured to Ivan, my tone bored, as if this was just another errand.

The girl hesitated for a moment before standing and following behind me, silent and unsure.