No one in the Mafia world knew that an outsider—a twenty-one-year-old female—was the mastermind behind their recent losses. I intended to keep it that way for as long as I could.
My target tonight was an abandoned warehouse downtown. I’d been following whispers of a trafficking ring for weeks, and this location finally seemed to match my leads.
I went into my room, grabbed my boots, and slipped into a black leather jacket. My eyes darted across the room and settled on the worn rug beside my bed. Quietly, I walked over there, lifted the rug, and yanked open the hidden panel in the wooden floor.
A small compartment came into view, holding a locked box. I punched in the four-digit code, and the box clicked open, revealing two of my favorite toys—a Glock 19, a military-grade pistol I used in the army, and a Ka-Bar combat knife. I picked up the pistol and tucked it into my waistband, then strapped the knife to my belt.
I sealed the wooden floor back and covered the rug over it before rising to my feet. After a last look at my reflection in the full-length mirror, I let out a sigh and headed out of the house.
With the hoodie of my jacket flipped over my face, I stepped outside, my outfit blending with the night.
I arrived at the warehouse in no time, my feet soundless against the floor as I walked inside. The air was thick with the stench of rust and oil, and the place looked half-abandoned—a classic hideout for illegal activities.
The further inside I went, the darker it became, with the moon’s soft glow seeping through a cracked window as the only source of light. I turned on my phone’s torch, my eyes drinking in the shadows around me.
I kept walking like a ninja—silent and unnoticed until I spotted a closed door up ahead. I quickened my pace, rushing over to grab the handle. It wasn’t locked. Quietly, I pushed it, and it opened with a low creak, revealing the crates stacked with suspicious contents.
I dared to step inside for a closer look, my phone’s torch held up in front of me. There were women’s belongings in the crates, drugs—lots of drugs—and some stuff I didn’t recognize. Before I could take a picture, I heard some heavy footsteps approaching from behind.
Without thinking twice, I turned off my phone’s flashlight and glanced around, my pulse spiking. After spotting a dark corner, I ran over there and leaned against the wall.
Two men walked into the room, chattering in what sounded like Italian. My heart skipped a beat as I watched them from the shadows. They inspected the crates, as if searching for something in particular.
“Hey, check this out,” one said, his deep voice thick with an Italian accent. He held up a woman’s oversized underpants.
The other guy licked his lips, hands rubbing in glee. “Fuck, the owner of that must be plus-sized—my type.”
My eyes narrowed, fingers curling into a fist on my side. “Perverts,” I murmured to myself.
The two men laughed, seemingly unaware of my presence. Well, that was until my phone vibrated, the sudden noise drawing their attention toward me.
My breath hitched in that moment, and my heart sank into my stomach. “Shit!” I mumbled, struggling to turn it off, but the damn thing wouldn’t stop buzzing. My eyes glanced at the screen, and I realized it was my roommate calling. “Great, Lettie! Your timing is impeccable,” I whispered to myself.
Both men withdrew their guns, their attention focused on me.
“Who’s there?!” one of them demanded, his voice low and menacing.
“Show yourself!” the other commanded.
These guys weren’t the cops; they shot first and asked questions later. I should shoot first, take them down before they’d pull their triggers. But on second thought, I wasn’t sure how many of them there were out there. Just because I saw two men didn’t mean that there couldn’t be others.
If I fired right now, the gunshots would attract more attention to me, slashing my chances of survival. I needed to think of something quickly.
“You have three seconds before we open fire,” the second guy added, cocking his gun.
I tucked my Glock into the back of my pants and zipped up my jacket to hide the blade sheathed at my belt. Then, I raised my hands in the air.
“Please, don’t shoot,” I pleaded, tuning my voice to sound helpless and afraid.
Their eyes narrowed at me when I stepped out of the shadows, hands raised in surrender.
“Would you look at that?” the first guy said, his lips twisting into a mischievous smirk.
“How’d you get in here?” the second guy asked.
“It’s a funny story, really,” I began, taking slow steps forward, my sharp eyes roaming the surroundings, searching for the quickest exits. “I was playing hide and seek with my boyfriend when I saw this abandoned warehouse.”
That was the best lie I could come up with at the moment. It sucked, yes. But it was the only thing that popped into my head.
