All his companion's are gone.

Steven's Point of View

Steven slammed his fist into her cheek. "You whore, what position do you have to give us orders?" he demanded, his voice as icy as ice and his sapphire dark blue eyes piercing Helen's soul.

Her head swung to the side as a result of the strong slap on her cheek, and blood flowed from her mouth.

She was hurt!

Helen could feel the teeth at the edge of her mouth uprooting. It was an unpleasant experience, but as he said, she was powerless to negotiate.

"Do what needs to be done."

His companion nodded in response to Steven's words and grabbed Helene's hair, yanking her up off the floor, which caused her ponytail to come undone.

Helen didn't think twice about fighting back. She was frail, and she knew deep down that fighting would not solve anything.

She had never heard of a case in which a woman was going to be raped and fought her way to justice.

Steven's murderous glare was fixed on her, and he watched as his friend dragged her toward the thicket (forest).

He was shocked that the lady did not fight to release herself from his friend's grips.

As soon as they were out of sight, he sighed and took his cell phone from his pants pocket.

"Arrrrhhhhhhh!"

He came to a halt as he was about to dial the number of his subordinate, his gaze was once more fixed to the thicket where his friend had just entered.

He had come to a halt as a result of the screams he heard. It came from the lady with whom his companion was attempting to make his way with.

Steven shook his head sideways, his teeth clenched.

He could hear the sound of shredding clothes and knew his friend was going to get out of there in no time.

He then dials his subordinate's (lower in rank or position) number. He was the Mafia Don, and his clan members always did what he said. They were his devoted dogs, and he adored them for it.

"Arrh. That's it, baby," his best friend said quietly. "Fuck. So... so tight," his friend moaned.

Steven was certain that his friend was enjoying the best time of his life.

"Arrh. Ple... please," cried the lady.

Steven smirked, as the sound of her cry amused his sensitive ear; witnessing others suffer gives him an inward satisfaction of his own.

As he dialed his first subordinate's number on his phone, and as the phone rang, his ears were ravished by the scream and moan coming from the lady and his friend in the forest.

Her cries and moans were so loud that he found it amusing at first, but after a while, he found it unpleasant.

Steven had to move away from the forest. As he made his way far from the automobile light, he surrounded himself with darkness since he didn't want anything to interrupt his phone call.

When the first ring of the phone ended, he chose to dial another of his subordinates, but there was no answer.

He was so irritated that he didn't hesitate to contact the phone numbers of practically all of his subordinates, but no one responded.

Something was wrong!

Steve chewed his lower lip as he aggressively phoned his last subordinate's number, but still there was no reply. 

"Arrrgh!" he yelled, hurling the phone to the floor.

He threw the phone with full force, shattering it into fragments.

Steven's breath became rapid as he became enraged.

Are his subordinates dead or have they been apprehended?

He has a slew of questions racing through his mind, and he has no idea where to turn for answers.

His subordinates were trustworthy, but the fact that none of them answered his phone call made him suspicious.

He needed to move quickly because if he was caught by the cops this time, he would be sentenced to death in a month.

"N-o! No! It can't be over!" he yelled, his hand clenched in his hair.

His vision was bloodshot, and he instantly remembered his twin brother. 

'That brat!'

Steven's blood boiled as he remembered his twin, who grew up in a wealthy family and received the best education. He was spoiled and given everything he required. Unlike Steven, who has worked in a menial job since he was a child.

His childhood was hell, and he was expected to grow up the hard way. He washed dishes, cleaned other people's floors, and did a variety of other unpleasant tasks.

Life wasn't fun for him, and he was treated like a slave, which caused him to begin acting above his age as he learned the ways of the street at a young age.

Fighting had become a hobby for him, and he had to fight his way to where he was now.

Others referred to him as a ruthless mafia Don, which he was. He didn't mind murdering an innocent person to succeed in his life's accomplishment.

Steven's life was very different from that of his twin brother, and he resented him for it. 

He wondered, 'I bet he doesn't even know how to throw a punch.'

Steven was so engrossed in his thoughts that he clinched his palm, causing his nails to dig into his flesh.

He became surprised as something drew his attention away from his thoughts.

It was the light that was approaching him.

He was surrounded by darkness a while ago because he had walked away from the light of the car that Helen owns, but to his greatest surprise the light which was surrounding him, came from the car that belonged to the lady who his friend was making his way with. 

The car was approaching him at full speed.

Before he could even act, he noticed the face of the person driving the car, which belonged to the lady from earlier.

Her hair, which had before been parked in a ponytail, had now fallen on her shoulder.

Helen appeared to be a living corpse.

She was covered in blood, and some strands of her hair had fallen over her face. Her cheek bulged and she smirked amusingly as she stepped into the gear, her gaze fixed on Steve.