#mafia!141

this was going to be so painfully easy. when you saw which shelf the older man ordered from, you saw dollar signs in your eyes. so with the front zipper of your dress pulled down a little to show off the 'goods', you went over to him at the bar.

you were flirty and sweet. your hand on his bicep, you didn't realize the toned muscles of his arms. oh, he was more than just a rich older man.

"well, aren't you just a sweet thing." he rubbed the top of your head. he said his name, "john price, love." like you should've known it. so you simply nodded when he told you it, and you gave your own name.

"how about we get out of here?" you asked with a cute smile, "i'm not really the best at bars, sadly." then dropped the smile into a small pout.

he hung over you like a shadow as he cupped your face, "aw, someone scared?"

you nodded, giving him the most innocent look, "can i go home with you tonight, mister price?" you saw his expression soften at the question. hook, line & sinker.

you had poked holes in the condom. happy to hand it over under the guise of you needing to 'protect' yourself. as if it didn't look like a strainer with all the holes in it.

price watched you get undressed slowly. he eyed you with a predator's gaze as he undid his tie and took off the jacket of his suit. price looked and smelled expensive, it would be perfect little paycheck. your thoughts were filled with stacks of sterling pounds, that you didn't even catch that price noticed the holes in the condom and chuckled.

silly girl, he thought. he knew exactly what you were doing. you weren't the first person to try and squeeze money out of him via a little price brat. but price got hard at the idea of such a gorgeous, conniving woman would fail so beautifully.

he did need a wife after all, and the ones the family were trying to pair him with were simply so boring. you, on the other hand, were a little firecracker who knew what she wanted. but as he pressed you into the bed, his lips on the back of your neck as he rubbed his cock up against his ass. he knew that he needed a ring on you fast.

"mmm, that feels good." he said, "see how hard ya made me, love?"

you'd do just fine as mrs. price. don't worry your little head though, you weren't going to get involved with the family business. just make sure that you make price lunch before he heads to the office and tuck the kids into bed before he comes home.

your stomach did somersaults when you felt the pressure of his tattooed hand against your throat. you saw all of his tattoos on his hairy body when he undressed. you had no idea what they represented, while the one of the dagger was a little more obvious (not to you), even the "gentler" ones, like the flag of his hometown on his shoulder or 141 on his collarbone painted a grim story of price's past.

you should've not poked those holes in that condom. silly girl.

he pushed you deep into the pillows of his hotel room. he had you bent at an awkward angle and polluted all of your space. leaving you little room to breathe as he sank his cock into your waiting hole.

price was a bad man, you should've ran when you had the chance. because when he got his cock wet in you, he felt a sense of euphoria that he never had with any other slag he had been with. you were different, it was like the heavens had opened and given him a gift.

a pretty young thing with a need to be bred.

oh yeah, he was keeping you. there were no questions asked. one hand on your throat, the other on your hip as he thrusted into you. he knew, he knew right then that you weren't getting too far after tonight. maybe he'd let you slip out think you got what you wanted, but that was all just to add a little fun to your game.

thinking that you were the top dog in this, but you were just a scrappy little thing. nothing like the pitbull that price was. he didn't manage an entire mafia family without getting a little... tough. and you may go back to your crummy little flat and wait anxiously for the pregnancy test to come back positive.

but come the end of tomorrow, he'd already know everything he needed to know about you. from where you lived and went to school to how many moles were on your back. hell, even if you were ovulating to begin with.

he pressed your head further into the bed and thrusted into you. your ass shook with each heavy stroke of his cock inside of you. and don't worry, if it doesn't take this time. there's always next time, and the time after, and the time after that.

ah, you silly little thing. this wasn't a one night stand. this was price prepping you for being his wife. you thought you were getting away with one kid? one kid in his world is rookie numbers, you'll be having your hands full for a good while.

he continued to rut into you, pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you. with each one you became some soft for him, you harsh moans because soft little mewls as each orgasm hit.

"such a good girl. aren't i lucky to have found ya." he got both hands on his hips and he battered your womb with his impressive size. he was big and hairy all over, covered in tattoos and an accent that melted your brain.

you fit him like a glove, it was a sign you two were meant to be together! he was still fucking you with the stamina of someone closer to your age, meanwhile you were laid out under him with your eyes barely open. poor girl's gone and got her brains fucked out for the night.

that was alright, meant that price could dump a few loads into you before you came to again. he'd of course never hurt you, not in that way. but you were the temptress that led him back to his room, he was just reaping his reward.

he panted against your ear, the filth in his words made your pussy clench around his aching cock. all it took was two little cells to mix together and you'd be a proper mama.

don't worry, price hasn't ruined all of his swimmers over the years.

with a few more thrusts, price found heaven. he shot his seed into your pussy. spat it right up against your womb, a promise of what was to come.

"john." you said with a loose tongue.

"didn't finish yet." he lied, "almost there. you just lie there for me, alright? i'll take good care of ya, baby girl."

he didn't even bother to pull out as he got you on your back. he wanted to see that blissed out expression while he put your knees to your ears and your puffy, wet cunt on display.

a proper mating press for the silly little girl who thought she was going to pull the rug out from under mister jonathan price.

-

you rubbed your lower back and huffed. you were only in your fifth month, but the baby was expected to be rather big. you couldn't complain only a fool would climb the mountain that was john price.

one of the most dangerous men in london.

what started out as a ploy to get enough money to pay for university ended with you dropping out to be price's full-time housewife. with the rock, the house and the baby to prove it. this was your second pregnancy in three years, with your daughter happily sitting in her high chair. her father sitting by her, keeping her busy while you cooked.

one of his tattooed fingers pointed to the pictures in the children's book he had open for her. he was determined to make sure that she could read a little bit before she went off to school in another two years.

"see that's a cow, baby girl." he said, "like the ones we see when we go drivin'." he was very attentive for a man who had snuffed the life out of people with his bare hands.

but he'd never hard a hair on you, your daughter or your future son's heads. he could barely be rough with you during sex nowadays!

it was summertime once more, the heat of july rolled through the old house you called him. you had kept the dress that caused this marriage and family, but with the mama chub on your hips you weren't fitting into it again anytime soon.

Ghost’s plan was simple. He didn’t want to spook you, didn’t want you on the run, didn’t want you knowing that there was something up or that they were on to you. You would walk through the front door, walk up to the 141’s office, the one that everyone has been banished from until they got to the bottom of the threats, and you would deliver whatever it is you are going to deliver.

The 141 had researched Hermes, the courier service you claimed to be part of. It seemed above boards based on the information they could pull easily, legally. An app for booking courier services. Ghost had even used it himself to see what the service was like secretly hoping it would be you that turned up. Instead a sweaty teen wearing far too much cologne had knocked on the door of the apartment he had commandeered for his little experiment. The kid took his box without much fuss and four grueling hours later the burner phone he had downloaded the app on had dinged, signaling the successful delivery of the package. In the notification was a selfie of the kid, the box and the address Ghost had instructed him to deliver to. For weeks Ghost had waited in the empty office, it was reminiscent of his days in the service, of long days and nights spent staking out enemies in some far flung corner of the world. But those days were long behind him, and he no longer had the eagerness of his youth compelling him to submit to the men who gave him orders. Instead he had tedious hours spent on busy work and endlessly scrolling his phone as he waited for you. 

When he finally got the notification from the guards at the front of the building that you had arrived he was more than ready to start part two of his plan. 

When you walked into the open door of the office you were exactly as he remembered you. Boots that seemed far too bulky for riding a bicycle, leather jacket with the neon vest layered over it. Today you had taken off the helmet before entering the office, a ball cap pulled down over your eyes in a way that people only did when they were hiding something. That paired with a very dark pair of sunglasses were red flags enough for him. 

“Mr Price?” you asked, hand already reaching into the messenger bag you had strapped across your chest. 

“That’s me,” Ghost answered, eyes narrowing as your hand disappeared, tracking your movement until your hand reappeared holding nothing more threatening than another butcher paper envelope. 

“Thought I recognized you from last time. Just need to get a quick pic of this.” You said, fumbling with the phone tucked into your jacket pocket. 

“What’s with the pictures?” He asked, watching as you held out the envelope towards the glass front doors of the office where floor two was etched into the surface. 

“Proof of delivery, shows my client you received your package in the original condition it was handed off in, plus you can't say you didn’t receive it if I’ve got a picture of the package at your location.” You say with a cheeky grin, hand reaching out with the envelope for him to take. 

He waits a beat, looking down at the envelope and then up to your face. 

“You meet all the folks who you are couriering for?”

You tilt your head to the side, still holding out the envelope expectantly. 

“No, Hermes was created with busy cityfolk in mind, we get your packages from point a to point be with ease. Are you on the go? Drop off at one of our conveniently located lockers and we will take it from there.” You rattled off one of the taglines from the Hermes website with ease, voice pitched up like a woman in an infomercial.

“So you don’t know the person who is sending these envelopes?” 

You looked down at the envelope still in your hand and then back up at Ghost. 

He wondered if you could sense the danger you were in just by being here alone in this office with him. Even had the two of you not been alone you would have been in danger, no one who worked for the 141 would stop Ghost from doing something, no one would question his motives. The people who worked for the 141, the people that were part of the family were loyal, they knew that loyalty was rewarded. 

But without them here, Ghost was a dog without a leash, without a muzzle, without a master. 

“I actually don’t, been getting more and more locker pickups the last couple of weeks and more and more contactless deliveries,” you answer with a shrug. 

Ghost studies every move, every micro expression that crosses your face. The furrow of your brows above those dark glasses, the way you chew the side of your lip, not in a nervous way but in a way that says if you weren’t doing that you would be doing something else. The shift of your weight from foot to foot.

He is nearing the end of your patience, that professional courtesy that has you still holding the envelope out to him waiting for him to take it. 

He takes it, thumbing open the taped down back and pulling out the postcard. They have no reason to believe that whoever had sent the first postcard would escalate their threats drastically between delivery one and two. They might not know who was behind it, but they had been quiet in the weeks since the first delivery. Their businesses chugging along, no violence, no conflicts, no reasons to believe that whoever was on the other end of these would be bolder. 

The front of this postcard is another shot of the lake, only this time it's not the cabin from the distance, it's closer, bolder. Taken at dusk in the moments before the sun has set beneath the horizon and the trees are lit golden, but the space between them is dark and haunted. The cabin is lit by a fire, the orange glow matching that of the trees, a figure is standing in front of the window, back to the photographer but Ghost knows John’s body, intimately, could pick him out of a lineup of a hundred similarly built men. He can almost smell the cigar smoke, taste the bourbon on his tongue. 

The picture is from last christmas. 

“Pride comes before the fall,” you mumble, looking down at the postcard. 

“What?”

“Contritium praecedit superbia? You into some kind of weird National Treasure role play?”

Ghost flips over the card, the latin words scrawled in that same looping cursive. 

“You speak latin?” 

Another red flag. 

You laughed, the question wasn’t particularly funny to Ghost.

“God no, I had a roommate back that was really into the ambient scene and there was this one band? Artist? Whatever you call it, they had an album and that was the subtitle. I thought it was a bit pretentious, you know? But I didn’t really get ambient music, so maybe it was just a me problem?”

Ghost continued to stare down at you. You didn’t shrink away like most men would. You just looked back at him, eyes hidden by those dark glasses. 

“Okay, well I’m off, was nice seeing you, John,” you say, slipping back into an almost sing-songy voice before turning on your heel and walking out of the empty office. 

You are gone only moments before Ghost’s phone is ringing in his pocket. 

“Talk.” Ghost wastes no time with pleasantries, Price wouldn’t call him to shoot the shit. 

“We got a problem, need you back at the house.” 

“Got a few of those.”

“We can worry about your problems later. MacTavish is here.” 

Well. Call it a hunch. You were right. It was awful.

Your boss was pretty alright at the start, but later on it became such a shit show. He would show up drunk, verbally assault you and another assistant, and constantly throw passes at you.

Not only that. The man you worked for ended up being a fucking scammer. Offered a very dangerous group a ‘great deal’ that ended up turning their plans for the worse. The threats from the clients were scaring off co-workers of yours. Some without notice, which kind of hurt your feelings.

One of them being your friend, Amara. She was a sweet girl, getting married soon. She was so excited to start a new life with her fiancé and her mom. But then she was found dead only a few weeks after she left. Oh you were heart broken.

Her funeral was very difficult to attend.

You noticed that your boss wasn’t around the past few days, and you were anxiously answering furious emails back to back. Some of them threatening to end your life if you couldn’t fix their issues.

You were so close to finishing college with your BA. You needed to save enough for your Masters. How else could you manage?!

There went your goals of becoming something in theatre, yes we know, of all things. Gods…you were so willing to start selling organs to pay off student loans. You knew this job was way too good to be true.

Then *they* came around.

Two gentlemen, a charming male, with brown eyes and a dashing smile had you distracted before he even opened his mouth. The other next to him, a blue-eyed individual with a soft-looking Mohawk and rugged nature, had a contagious laughter that drew you to look up in the first place.

When they got to you, they were very polite.

“Good afternoon, we’re here to see Mr. Seamire.”

Your smile falters and you worry that they might turn nasty if you tell them the truth…but you can’t think of a better lie than the “sorry he’s not in right now” that you’ve been repeating that past few days.

“I’m so sorry, he hasn’t been in for a few days now.” You sheepishly admit. “If you’d like to leave a message or number we can leave it on his desk, if he comes back-“

“Oh that won’t be necessary, hen.” The blue eyed man speaks, a Scottish accent in his words.

“If we can, would you be able to find us some files? Only if you can. We’re pulling out of a…” he huffs a laugh, but there’s no amusement in his eyes, “business, deal.”

You blink and nod your head.

“Sure, I just need a name. I’m so sorry we’ve not satisfied you with our company’s service.”

The brown-eyed gentleman smiles warmly. “Thank you kindly, ma’am. It’s no worries. They’re under a number actually, 141.”

You nod, typing in the number as an aggressive smack on your desk counter sounds right next to the two.

“I wanna speak to Seamire! Now!”

Ah shit.

“I’m sorry sir, he’s not in-“

“You said that shit last time!!”

“Y-Yes- I did-“

The man throws a drink (where the fuck he got that from you don't know) right at you, and you thank god that it was a cold one.

Immediately the two gentlemen wrestle him back a few steps.

“Oi- what the bloody hell is your problem?!”

You take a deep breath, the aggressive stranger still yelling profanities at you as your in the middle of a breathing exercise your therapist from your uni taught you. It’s not really working.

“Cheap whores like her need to learn how to do their fucking jobs-!”

Your eyes snap open in rage. “ENOUGH.”

Everyone in the room stops.

You slam the company telephone on the top of the counter, grabbing the actual phone part and holding it out to him. “Do *you* wanna try calling him? Huh? Wanna give it a fucking go?!”

You shove it off of the counter as he stands there gobsmacked.

“I’m sorry you got fucked over by my boss, but I’m not his fucking keeper. I’m his fucking assistant. He tells me what to do, when to do it, and not even a please or thank you to come with it. The little slimeball hasn’t been here in,”

You yank out a file and slam it down. “three fucking weeks. So if you want to file a complaint-"

You harshly slide the folder over. It's huge, the papers spilling out of the openings. "-JOIN THE FUCKING CLUB. You incompetent prick!”

The Scotsman lets out a huffed laugh, looking back at the stranger. “Think yer not welcomed here, lad.”

He grabs the man by the jacket of his suit and drags him out of the door. You can only see so far which way he takes him.

His friend looks back at you, a sort of worry on his face. “You alright there, miss?”

Immediately you shake your head. “No. I think that might’ve been my sign to quit.” You sigh out. “Uhm…I’m not supposed to do this but since I’m putting in my notice, uh I can use the computer on the managers floor to get those files for you. I can either mail them to you or-“

“I can pick them up myself, I’d rather them not be others hands.”

“Okay,” you pull out a pen and sticky note. “Write down your number or email, and I can let you know when they’re ready to be picked up. I can honestly have them by…”

You need to take a deep breath, the nerves and anxiety still hot in your blood. “…like- tomorrow.”

The man smiles, scribbling down a number, and a name. ‘Kyle’. You presume it’s his, considering he doesn’t correct you when you point at him.

You smile, peeling off the note and sticking it onto the desk. “Okay, Kyle. I’ll let you know as soon as that’s ready. Thank you…for uh…helping me out there.”

‘Kyle’ nods and motions to your outfit. “You’re gonna be alright smelling like coffee all day?”

“Oh, I’ll manage. Might leave after this.”

He leans in with his forearms on the desk.“I don’t blame you.”

There’s a feeling of shyness in your chest as he leans in, and then his friend comes through the door.

“You alright, miss?”

Again, you nod. “Yes! Thank you, I hope that wasn’t trouble-“

He waves his hand in front of him. “It’s no problem for us.”

Kyle raps his knuckles on the desk as he looks at his friend. “Well, she said she’ll let us know when we can get those files. We're clear?”

“Almost,” the Scotsman states. There’s a look between the two, something their communicating with their eyes as Mohawk opens his mouth. “You wouldn’t happen to know where your boss last was?”

Your brows raise up- cause in all honestly no. You didn’t know. Last you heard he just stated he was taking some vacation days. Which you relayed.

“He could be anywhere really, he really likes his beach house though. Never really told us where it was.”

His demeanor perks at the mention of a location. Not a proper one but a house nonetheless. “Thank ye, lass. And yer name was-?”

“Oh I’m (y/n).”

“(Y/n). Such a beautiful name. I’m Johnny.”

“Pleasure.” You can’t help but notice his knuckles. Bruised and cut up, like he fights for a living. Honestly, with his build, you would assume he does so.

“We’ll keep in touch, yeah?”

Kyle throws you a toothy grin before turning and walking out, Johnny right behind him.

——————————

That night, before you left for the day (even though you smelt of coffee), you managed to find those files that Kyle and Johnny were asking for. To your surprise they weren’t blacked out of some of the info that should be blacked out on a managers desk.

You sigh, shaking your head. If anything this proves that this business was failing, as none of the necessary precautions were being used.

As you printed out everything, you decided to put some in a flash drive as well to give to them. And then in the same moment, you downloaded a file that had your name? Which was odd. Cause these were all names of clients and buyers. Your name shouldn’t be on there.

But then you see other names. Familiar names of previous co-workers who just stopped showing up to work. One was Amara. This wasn’t right.

You decided to be nosey, putting like five names that you recognized even Amara’s in the flash drive. You’d just move things around before giving it to Kyle.

When you finish you organize the printed files in order. If it’s named, it’s alphabetical. If it’s dated, it’s numeral. Some are even color-coded.

By the time you make it to your car, you pull out your phone, texting Kyle that his files are ready. And to your surprise, he texts you really fast. Right as you start the car!

Kyle: great! Would you mind if we met up somewhere public? Wouldn’t want to scare you if I asked you to drop them off.

Well, that’s odd. Why the fuck would you be scared. He’s such a nice-looking gentleman.

But anyway, you sent him a location and headed over there.

It was a rather busy street, the place you recommended. Finding parking was easy though you didn’t think to tell Kyle where the good spots were.

You sit in front of a cafe, a coat covering your stained blouse with the file in front of you. Eventually, a familiar voice greets you.

“Why hello again.”

You look up from your phone and grin. “Hi! Here you go, I’m sorry it took so long, something was weird about the files. Uhm, not everything is blacked out but I swear that’s not normal, we usually black out certain info-“ you begin to play with your hands. “Honestly I am really sorry things didn’t work out, a lot of people but a lot of money with this kinda of business.”

Kyle is furrowing his brow at the files before glancing up at you with a hard gaze that softens immediately. “You put this together?”

“Yes?”

“This is…” he raises his brows before thumbing through the pages. “Jesus love,…how long did this take?”

“Like,” you sputter, the name catching you off guard. “Like I don’t know 20 minutes?”

There’s a long pause as he nods his head, looking up at you with a smirk. His eyes are a hypnotic coffee brown. Flakes of gold shimmer from the gold lighting of the window to the cafe. You’re mesmerized before he speaks.

“You’re out of a job now right?”

"Yep."

“You like assisting?”

You give a shrug. “Could be worse.”

Gaz leans in, putting his file on the table. “If I offered you an interview would you be interested?”

It was like a record scratch hit your head. “I…well I mean…it depends really. No offense I barely know you-“

“Yet here we are, face to face again.”

You furrow your brow. “Oh come on, I was being nice and doing a favor.”

“Maybe, but this is a job that pays well. I promise you we can take care of anything you may need. We could do work benefits like dental, medical, or even housing.”

You clicked your tongue, a wide but nervous grin sprouting out. 'Housing?' you thought.

What they were going to keep you nearby? What in a tiny little shack?

You let out a dry laugh. “What is this..."business" you do?"

Kyle licks his lips, and you notice only the tiniest amount of hesitation.

"Call it uh, protection detail."

"Protection? So you're security?"

Oh if only you knew.

“Well," He changes the subject. "I understand this is pushing. Honestly, we could really benefit from your work ethic.” He stands, tucking the file under his arm before shaking your hand. “Text me if you’re interested I'm serious.”

Then just like that. He’s gone in the crowd.

What would you say? Would everything go as planned, or would it be awkward? The uncertainty gnawed at you, but there was no turning back now.

You ran your fingers through your hair, once again contemplating how to style it. The evening was important, and you wanted to feel ready, to look your best. You glanced at the clock—time was running out.

Catching your reflection in the mirror, you took a deep breath, trying to calm the whirlwind of thoughts racing through your mind. There were so many things you wanted to say, so much you hoped would happen, but it all seemed too overwhelming at once.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, and you froze.

Your heart skipped a beat. Was it him? Was it time?

You quickly made your way to the door, every step deliberate, every breath sharp with anticipation. When you opened it, you were met with a smile—a warm, familiar face..

There König, the mafia boss with a reputation that spanned the city’s darkest corners and its highest towers, stood at the door. His presence commanded attention without a single word spoken.

He wore a deep navy suit—almost black in its richness—crafted from a luxurious wool and silk blend. The suit’s understated elegance spoke of power, the kind only those who truly understood wealth could appreciate. It fit him perfectly, accentuating his broad shoulders and strong frame. His trousers were sharply cut, breaking just above polished black shoes. The jacket was impeccably tailored, the lapels wide but not exaggerated. Satin accents caught the light as he moved, adding a quiet sheen to his commanding presence. His tie, a dark navy silk, was simple yet perfectly tied, and his crisp white shirt stood out sharply against the dark suit.

For a moment, you wondered if you were underdressed. But as your gaze met his, everything else faded into the background.

König, still wearing his signature mask, reached out and presented you with a bouquet—a stunning mix of red roses, lilies, baby’s breath, sunflowers, and delicate filler greens. The bouquet was as carefully curated as his entire appearance—elegant, bold, and striking.

“Guten Abend, Hase." I hope you like the flowers I picked out,” he said, his deep voice sending a shiver down your spine.

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you as you took the bouquet. The vibrant colors and delicate petals were perfect, and it made your heart flutter. You brought the flowers to your nose, inhaling their sweet scent.

“They’re beautiful,” you replied, your voice soft but filled with appreciation. “Thank you, König.”

As you stepped aside to let him in, your heart raced. His presence was overwhelming, but in a way that made you feel safe, protected. The evening was just beginning, and you had no idea what it would bring, but for the first time in a long while, you felt certain that whatever happened next, you were ready.

You held König’s hand as he drove you to Diamond Petals, a high-end restaurant nestled on the outskirts of the wealthy part of town. The drive felt surreal, with every turn and mile heightening your anticipation. As the car approached the restaurant, your breath caught in your throat. The place was more breathtaking than you had imagined.

Floral plants cascaded over the exterior, their vibrant colors glowing against the soft, ambient lighting. The building itself was a masterpiece, the marble and stone walls catching the light in a way that made the entire place seem otherworldly. It felt as though you were about to step into a dream, where beauty and elegance existed at every corner.

The soft hum of music could be heard from inside, and as you entered, the first thing that struck you was the dance floor at the center of the space. The floor was polished to a mirror-like sheen, reflecting the twinkling lights above. It was the perfect setting for an evening filled with romance and charm.

As König pulled the car to a stop, he turned to you with a warm, almost teasing smile. “Ready, Liebling?”

You nodded, feeling a flutter in your chest, and took a deep breath before stepping out of the car. Together, you walked toward the entrance, where the scent of fresh flowers mixed with the soft notes of the music from within. It was a perfect evening in the making

The moment you moved toward the entrance, you couldn’t help but notice the eyes of the crowd. Whispers and curious glances followed you, some filled with intrigue, others tinged with disdain. The people around you were all too aware of König's rare presence, and perhaps even more curious about the person accompanying him tonight.

You blushed, instinctively shrinking into the shadow of König’s towering figure. His presence was enough to shield you, but you could feel the weight of the stares, the curiosity of those around you. It was clear that König was a figure few dared to approach, yet here he was, walking confidently at your side, unbothered by the attention.

The whispers quieted when König shot a cold, sharp glare in their direction. He leaned in close, his voice a soft murmur that only you could hear, “Don’t worry, Hase. They’re just jealous of me having someone so lovely by my side.”

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words, and the weight of the stares seemed to fade. His reassurance was enough to ease your nerves, and you stood taller, walking with him toward your table. The faint buzz of murmurs continued behind you, but all that mattered in that moment was the quiet strength and assurance that König exuded, and the way he made you feel—protected, cherished, and entirely his.

When you reached the table, König gently pulled out the chair for you, his actions so graceful and deliberate that you couldn’t help but feel like you were the only person in the room. His care and attention were impossible to ignore.

“Thank you, König,” you said, your voice soft but sincere. “This is lovely.”

He gave you a small, satisfied smile, his eyes softening as he sat across from you. “Anything for you, Hase. That being said, order whatever you’d like. It’s on me.”

You couldn’t help but giggle, the warmth in his words making your heart flutter. Just as the moment settled, a waiter approached, ready to take your orders. You looked up, meeting König’s gaze before turning to the menu.

“I think I’ll have the steak,” you said, smiling as you felt a rush of excitement at being treated so thoughtfully.

König raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes. “And what else, Hase? Do you want anything sweet… like you afterwards?”

You burned red at the comment, pausing for a moment before you added, “Maybe the chocolate mousse for dessert?”

The waiter jotted down your choices before turning to König, whose deep, steady voice carried authority as he placed his order. With a courteous nod, the waiter excused himself, leaving the two of you alone in the quiet intimacy of your table.

“You’re spoiling me,” you said, your lips curving into a playful smile. “You don’t have to do that.”

König leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on you, warm and unyielding. “But I want to,” he said simply, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. “I want this night to be perfect for you, Liebling. Because I hope you’ll enjoy having me around… next time, and the time after that.”

He leaned forward, resting his large hand gently over yours. The warmth of his touch made your heart race. His eyes flickered with a nervous energy, his thumb brushing softly against the top of your hand in a calming rhythm, though you suspected it was more for him than for you.

“You know,” he began, his voice low and unusually vulnerable, “I was terrified when I decided to pursue you. You’re… an angel compared to me.”

You tilted your head slightly, surprise evident in your expression. “What do you mean?”

A soft chuckle escaped him, though his eyes held a shadow of seriousness. “You know what I am, Hase. A mobster.” His gaze dropped momentarily to the table, his jaw tightening. “Perhaps more of a monster than a mobster.” He exhaled heavily, then looked up at you again, his gaze searching. “But I couldn’t stop myself. I hope you’ll still want this, want me, even knowing the dangers that come with it.”

He broke eye contact again, his gaze falling to where his hand rested over yours, as if bracing himself for rejection. The vulnerability in his voice tugged at your heart. For a man so strong and imposing, seeing him wrestle with his own insecurities was almost overwhelming.

“König…” you said softly, reaching across the table to cup his cheek, gently guiding his gaze back to yours. “Regardless of the danger, I want this. I want us, because I feel the same way.” You smiled tenderly, your voice steady with conviction. “I love you, König. These feelings… they consume me. You’ve given me a place to feel safe and loved like no one else ever has.”

For a moment, he simply stared at you, as though trying to process your words. Then, slowly, a soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and his eyes shone with an emotion so raw it made your chest tighten.

“I never thought I’d hear you say that,” he murmured, his voice thick with relief. He squeezed your hand gently, his thumb brushing against your skin. “But I’m so glad I did.”

Before he could say anything more, a voice sliced through the air like a blade—smooth, deliberate, and unwelcome.

“Don König, I didn’t know you had such a beautiful woman at your side.”

König’s warmth disappeared in an instant, replaced by a cold, sharp edge. His eyes, once alive with affection, turned icy and detached. He knew that voice.

Don Shepard.

König’s jaw clenched as he slowly stood, his imposing frame radiating a quiet threat. Despite his clear disdain, he forced a tight, polite smile, walking toward the older man with a calculated ease that spoke of years of practice in dealing with people like him.

“Don Shepard,” König said, his tone measured but laced with an unmistakable tension. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

The older man’s grin widened, clearly enjoying the discomfort he had stirred. “Ah, I have a knack for being where I’m least expected,” Shepard quipped, his gaze shifting briefly to you. His eyes lingered just a second too long before König subtly shifted to block his view, his posture protective. “But I must say, König, you’ve outdone yourself. A woman like her? Quite the catch.”

König’s expression remained calm, but the subtle tension in his shoulders betrayed his irritation. “I don’t believe that’s any of your business, Shepard,” he said evenly. “Now, if you’ll excuse us…”

But Don Shepard wasn’t one to back down so easily. He leaned in slightly, his voice dripping with mock concern. “Oh, but it is my business. You’re playing in dangerous waters, König, bringing someone like her into our world.”

König’s smile was razor-thin, his patience clearly wearing thin. “I’m sure I don’t need you to remind me of the risks,” he replied, his voice sharp with finality. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have dinner to enjoy.”

There was a moment of unspoken tension, a silent battle of wills, before Shepard finally raised his hands in mock surrender. “Of course, of course,” he said, his tone light but his eyes glinting with something darker. “Just don’t forget, König—our world doesn’t forgive mistakes.”

König barely acknowledged the veiled threat, giving Shepard a curt nod before turning his back on him and returning to you.

As he sat down, his features softened once again, though a trace of tension lingered in his jaw. “I’m sorry about that,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with frustration. “He’s… difficult.”

You reached for his hand, your touch grounding him. “It’s okay,” you said, your voice gentle but firm. “I’m not going anywhere.”

König’s gaze softened at your words, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Good,” he murmured, his tone resolute. “Because I won’t let anyone take you from me.”

König’s words hung in the air, a quiet promise wrapped in steel. His hand over yours was firm, steadying you in the aftermath of the brief but tense exchange. His gaze softened, a stark contrast to the cold, commanding presence he had wielded just moments ago with Don Shepard.

You smiled at him, your heart swelling with affection. “I know,” you said softly, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “I trust you, König.”

His expression shifted, relief flickering in his eyes as his thumb traced slow circles over your knuckles. “You mean more to me than you’ll ever know, Liebling,” he murmured. “And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”

After the warm moment, the waiter arrived quietly, placing your dishes in front of you with practiced precision before retreating with a polite nod. The aroma of your steak and König’s carefully chosen entrée filled the space between you, but neither of you moved to eat right away.

König cleared his throat, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Well,” he said, leaning back slightly, “I hope the food tastes as good as this evening feels.”

You chuckled softly, picking up your fork. “If it’s half as good as your company, I think we’re in for a treat.”

König chuckled too, the low rumble of his laugh warming you from the inside out. It was rare to see him so relaxed, so at ease.

As you both began to eat, the tension from Don Shepard’s interruption faded, replaced by lighthearted conversation. König told you small, guarded anecdotes about his life—safe stories that made you laugh or widened your eyes in fascination. In return, you shared moments from your own life, noticing the way he listened so intently, as if every word you said mattered.

The dinner unfolded like a dream, a blend of laughter, stolen glances, and the occasional touch of his hand brushing against yours. For the first time in what felt like forever, König allowed himself to hope—for a future, for something brighter, for you.

And as the evening progressed, you realized you weren’t just sitting across from a mobster or even the enigmatic König. You were sitting across from the man who had stolen your heart, and for the first time, you felt certain that you’d found something rare and unbreakable.

However there was someone watching beside Don Sherpard from the corner of his eye, Ghost sat down next to Consigliere Price while listening to Don's ideas. He was feared when the Don spoked to König, all he wanted was to keep you safe but it was too late. 

“Ghost? What do you think about capturing the west harbors?” Price asked him to clear his throat as the Don noticed where he was glimpsing at. He smirked devilishly with a plan in his head. 

However, there was someone else watching the interaction from the shadows—beside Don Shepard, seated at a nearby table, was Ghost. Silent and observant, he sat next to Consigliere Price, his imposing figure blending into the dimly lit ambiance of the restaurant. While Price listened intently to Don Shepard's ideas, Ghost's attention was elsewhere. His sharp eyes flicked toward König, and then to you.

He felt a pit of unease settle in his stomach when Don Shepard engaged König. He knew the man’s reputation all too well. Whatever Shepard was planning, it was never good. Ghost clenched his jaw, his instincts screaming to act, but he knew it was already too late to intervene.

“Ghost?” Price’s gruff voice cut through his thoughts, snapping him back to the present. “What’s your take on securing the west harbors? Think it’s worth the resources?”

Ghost cleared his throat, forcing himself to focus. “It’s a strong move,” he replied curtly, though his gaze flicked back toward König and Don Shepard for a brief second.

Price noticed, raising an eyebrow but saying nothing.

Don Shepard, however, caught the brief glimpse and smirked, a devilish glint in his eyes as if a new idea had just sparked in his mind. Whatever he had planned, it was clear that König—and now you—were a piece of his next move.

“She’s pretty—like an angel out of heaven, isn’t she?” Don Shepard’s voice dripped with venomous sweetness as he leaned slightly toward Ghost. His cold gaze locked onto Ghost’s eyes, sharp and unyielding, like a predator cornering its prey. “It would be... horrible... don’t you think? If someone were to use her as bait. Especially if it was someone she trusted. Imagine her being sent back to heaven earlier than expected…” He let the words hang in the air, his lips curling into a sinister smile. “Why don’t you go ask her for a dance?”

Ghost’s jaw tightened, his hand curling into a fist under the table as rage burned through him. His usual mask of stoicism wavered, a flicker of helplessness crossing his features. He hated how powerless he felt at that moment. To disobey Don Shepard was to invite chaos and bloodshed—not just for himself, but for those he cared about. Soap, Roach, and now you—all of you were in more danger than ever before.

Before Ghost could respond, Price interjected, his voice firm and composed, though there was an edge of warning in his tone. “Don, we shouldn’t involve the innocent. That woman has saved countless men, multiple times. She’s earned her place and respect.”

Don hummed, leaning back in his chair as if Price’s words were nothing more than idle noise. He stroked his chin thoughtfully before chuckling darkly. “I suppose... heaven can wait, then. For now. But the devil,” he said, his eyes narrowing as they flicked toward König, “still needs to be put in his place.”

Ghost’s grip on the edge of the table tightened. He didn’t flinch under Don’s gaze, but his blood ran cold. The implications of Shepard’s words were clear. This wasn’t over—not by a long shot.

The Don’s smile returned, almost cheerful now, as if the prior tension hadn’t happened. “Forget the dance, Ghost,” he said, waving a dismissive hand. “Let’s enjoy the night, hmm? And refocus on what matters—expanding your ‘supple’ house.”

Ghost gave a curt nod, his body still rigid with suppressed frustration. But his mind was already working. He would find a way to keep you safe, even if it meant going against Shepard in the shadows. He glanced briefly at Price, who gave him a subtle, knowing look.

The night had taken a darker turn, and the unspoken tension lingered in the air like a storm cloud. Whatever game Don Shepard was playing, Ghost knew one thing for certain—he needed to stay one step ahead if he was going to protect everyone who mattered to him.

König held the door open for you as you stepped out of the restaurant. The cool night air greeted you, carrying the faint hum of music and chatter from inside. You had hoped to dance with him on the floor earlier, to share an intimate moment swaying together under the soft glow of the chandeliers. But as the crowd thickened, you noticed how König’s posture stiffened, his shoulders tense despite his calm demeanor.

Though he insisted he was fine, you could see the flicker of anxiety in his eyes, subtle but unmistakable. It was enough for you to decide—leaving was the better choice. You didn’t want him to endure any more discomfort, not when tonight was meant to be perfect for both of you.

As you waited by the curb, Vault, König’s trusted driver, brought his car to the front. König moved with his usual grace, opening the passenger door for you. His towering frame shielded you from the outside noise as he gently motioned for you to step in.

Once you were settled into the seat, König closed the door with care, his eyes lingering on you for a moment as though he wanted to be certain you were comfortable. The way his gaze softened before he stepped away made your heart flutter. Without a word, he circled to the driver’s side, his movements calm and deliberate, though you could sense the tension lingering beneath his composed exterior.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, König exhaled a deep sigh, his hands gripping the wheel for a moment before he turned to you. “Thank you, Hase… I know you wanted to dance, and I’m sorry we weren’t able to.” His voice was low, edged with guilt.

You reached out and placed a reassuring hand on his arm, offering him a gentle smile. “It’s okay, love. I understand.”

At your words, König froze, his hands momentarily still on the wheel as his eyes widened. His reaction caught you off guard.

“König? What is it?” you asked softly, tilting your head to study him.

He blushed fiercely, the tips of his ears turning pink as he glanced away, unable to meet your gaze. “N-nothing,” he stammered, gripping the wheel again as he started the car. “I wasn’t expecting… that you’d call me ‘love.’”

A shy smile tugged at your lips as his voice trailed off. You could see how much the small term of endearment had affected him, and it warmed your heart.

Clearing his throat, he added hesitantly, “If… if you’re okay with it, I want to take you somewhere special to me. Somewhere we can be alone.”

Your smile widened, and you leaned back in your seat, your heart already full from his sincerity. “Sure, love,” you replied, the term slipping from your lips as naturally as breathing.

He glanced at you briefly, his blush deepening, but the way his lips curled into a small, bashful smile told you how much the word meant to him. The rest of the drive was silent, filled only with the soft hum of the engine and the quiet excitement that lingered between you both. Thought raced

When you arrived at your destination, you were greeted by a breathtaking sight—a sprawling sea of shimmering city lights stretching across the horizon, their vibrant colors twinkling against the stark contrast of the pristine white snow that blanketed the landscape.

You stepped out of the car, the crisp night air biting gently at your skin as you gazed in awe. The view was mesmerizing, almost surreal, like a painting brought to life. You’d never been this far from the city before, and seeing it from such a distance, framed by the quiet beauty of nature, left you speechless.

“König…” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as you turned to him.

He stood by the car, watching your reaction with quiet satisfaction, his tall frame silhouetted by the faint glow of the distant cityscape. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he said softly, his voice warm and steady.

You nodded, unable to tear your eyes away from the scene. “I’ve never seen anything like this. It’s… magical.”

König took a step closer, his presence grounding you amidst the overwhelming beauty of the view. “I used to come here when I needed to think or be alone,” he admitted, his voice tinged with vulnerability. “But tonight, I wanted to share it with you.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you reached for his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. “Thank you for bringing me here. It’s perfect.”

König’s lips curved into a soft smile as he gave your hand a gentle squeeze. His gaze was tender, filled with an affection that seemed to melt the chilly air around you. “You make it perfect, Liebling,” he murmured, his deep voice carrying the warmth of his feelings.

Without another word, he shifted closer, his large hands carefully guiding you. One arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you gently into him, while he placed your hand on his broad shoulder, keeping the other clasped in his own. He began to hum a low, soothing tune as he swayed with you, his movements slow and unhurried.

You let out a soft giggle, your cheeks warming as you looked up at him. His towering frame felt safe and steady, his hum vibrating through your chest like a comforting lullaby. The world around you seemed to fade, leaving just the two of you beneath the vast expanse of the stars.

Feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath your cheek, you leaned into him, resting your head on his chest. His scent—clean and woodsy, with a hint of something uniquely him—surrounded you, grounding you in the moment.

König’s hum deepened, the melody matching the quiet intimacy of the moment. He tilted his head slightly, resting his chin against the top of your head. “I could stay like this forever,” he whispered softly, his voice a low rumble that you felt more than heard.

You smiled, your eyes fluttering shut as you let yourself sink into the comfort of his embrace. “Me too,” you murmured, your voice barely audible over the sound of the wind and his gentle hum.

In that moment, there was no danger, no worries—only the two of you, swaying together beneath the stars in a dance that felt as though it was meant to last forever. But then, a selfish thought slipped into your mind, one you couldn’t ignore.

“König,” you began softly, your voice hesitant as your fingers tightened slightly around him. “Can I ask you something… something kinda selfish?”

He tilted his head, curiosity lighting his eyes as he gazed down at you. A small chuckle escaped his lips. “When have you ever been selfish, Liebling? Go on, ask me.”

You hesitated, biting your lip, before finally speaking, your tone serious. “I… I want to see your face.” You paused, feeling suddenly shy under his intense gaze. “It’s okay if you don’t want to. I just— Forget it. I’m being stupid.”

König stilled for a moment, his large hand cupping your cheek as he gently tilted your face up to meet his. His expression softened, a tender warmth in his eyes as he whispered, “You’re not stupid.”

His thumb brushed across your cheek as he let out a soft sigh. “I understand why you’d want to know what your partner looks like… You deserve that much.” He rested his forehead against yours, his voice low and intimate as he added, “Let’s go to the car. I’ll show you there.”

Your breath hitched at his words, your heart fluttering as he gently took your hand and guided you toward the vehicle, an unspoken promise lingering in the air between you.

As you slid into the back seat, König carefully closed the door behind him, his sharp eyes darting around to ensure no one was watching. The air between you felt thick with anticipation, your heartbeat thrumming in your chest. You sat patiently, nervously toying with the ends of your hair, the gesture doing little to calm the fluttering in your stomach.

Your cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink when König gently lifted you onto his lap, settling you so you were facing him. His massive hands, warm and reassuring, gripped your hips as his forehead rested lightly against yours. The steady rise and fall of his chest brushed against yours, grounding you in the intimacy of the moment.

His eyes, deep and piercing, locked onto yours, scanning your face with a quiet reverence. His arms wrapped securely around you, his thumbs tracing slow, nervous circles along your sides.

“König?” you whispered, your voice soft and filled with concern. “Are you sure about this? You don’t have to—”

“I’m fine,” he interrupted gently, his voice barely above a whisper. There was a quiver of vulnerability in his tone as he continued, “I’m just... nervous. Nervous about how you’ll react to my face, Hase.” The rare fragility in his voice tugged at your heart.

You smiled warmly, a soft giggle escaping your lips as you cupped his face, your fingers grazing the fabric of his mask. “König,” you began, your voice tender but firm, “I would love you no matter what you look like. The man I fell for isn’t just a face. He’s the one who holds me like I’m made of glass, even though I’m not. He’s the one who protects me, who cares for me so deeply it leaves me breathless.”

Your thumb brushed lightly over his masked cheek as you asked softly, “Ready?”

A beat of silence passed, and then he nodded, his lips curving into the faintest smile. “Yes, Hase,” he murmured. “Only for you.”

As you slid his mask off with trembling fingers, your movements slow and deliberate, you gave König every chance to stop you. But he didn’t. Instead, his gaze stayed locked on yours, steady yet vulnerable, as if baring his soul alongside his face.

When the fabric slipped away, your breath hitched. Your eyes widened, taking in the striking details of the man before you. His chiseled features, framed by a rugged jawline, were marred only by scars that seemed to tell stories of strength and survival. You found yourself captivated by his piercing blue eyes, which studied your reaction with a mix of apprehension and hope.

Your hand instinctively reached up, tracing the faint scar along his cheek with delicate fingers, marveling at the softness of his skin. He didn’t flinch; instead, his eyes softened under your touch. Your thumb moved to the prominent scar running across the bridge of his nose, your heart aching as you wondered what battles had left their mark on him. Finally, your hand rested on the small scar that kissed the corner of his lips.

Without thinking, you brushed your thumb gently against the edge of his lips before leaning in, your lips grazing his in a featherlight kiss. It was tender, almost shy, as if you were both learning to navigate this uncharted intimacy together.

König let out a low, rumbling chuckle, his hands exploring your clothed waist and back, his touch warm and deliberate. You let out a soft moan against his lips from his warm touch. But as much as he didn’t want to lose himself in the moment, he knew his restraint was hanging by a thread.

“Hase,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, “Ich liebe dich.” He pulled you closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Ich will dich.”

The heat in his voice sent shivers down your spine, your attention fully claimed by the man holding you as if he couldn’t bear to let go. Your breaths grew heavier, your chest rising and falling in rhythm with his as the air between you seemed to thrum with a charged intensity. The world outside the car melted away, leaving only the two of you in this intimate, all-consuming moment.

Leaning in closer, you whispered into his ear, your voice soft but laced with desire, “Ich will dich, mein Bärchen… Küss mich.”

The words sent a visible shudder through König’s massive frame. His hands gripped your hips a little tighter, his eyes darkening as he gazed at you, captivated. For a moment, he didn’t move, as if savoring the moment and letting your words settle deep into his soul. Then, with a growl low in his throat, he leaned forward, capturing your lips with his own.

The kiss was fiery, passionate, and all-encompassing, his lips moving against yours with both hunger and reverence. His hand slid up your back, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. The distant glow of the city lights painted the car’s interior in faint hues, casting the scene in a romantic glow as the two of you surrendered to the moment.

König’s kisses grew deeper, more desperate, as if he was pouring every ounce of his love and desire into them. His hands explored the curves of your body with a gentle yet possessive touch, making you feel like you were the center of his universe.

“Mein Hase,” he murmured against your lips between kisses, his voice thick with emotion and want. “You’re mine. Only mine.”

The night stretched on, the cool glass of the car windows fogging up from the heat radiating between you. In that moment, nothing else mattered—only König, only you, and the unspoken promise of a love that would burn brighter than any star in the night sky.

Part 1: Save by a Hare

“Sit rep.”

The body above you finally lets you lift your head. You look around to see the diner in carnage. The plush in the booths were torn and shredded, some of the stuffing still hovering in the air. Everything glass on the counter were shattered. The cold wind came in through the broken windows.

“Good here.” A voice broke through the ringing in your ears.

“Johnny?”

“A'm right here.” He grumbled. There was a string of words that sounded like cursing.

Your heart is still pounding like a mallet as the boys around you began to get up.

You were being moved before you could even realize it. Being lifted in the air and back on your feet like you weighed nothing before you could get your bearings. Simon’s eyes scanned you over as you were finally able to start moving your tongue again “W-what-“

“Gaz, secure the perimeter.” Movement followed,  one of your “customers” move to Simon's order. Your confusion is hard to hide. “Go get your stuff. We’re leaving.” You look around at the two remaining men left in the diner; Simon, his hand on your back, keeping you steady and Johnny, the Scottish man with a Mohawk and his white dress shirt bleeding across his peck.

“You’re hurt.”

Both men looked to where you pointed, Johnny grumbled under his breath, “Fuckers ruined my new shirt.” He poked at the blood, some coming off his hand as he examined it.

Something about seeing him bleeding shocks you back to life, “T-the first aid kit is in the back. I can-" you move to go retrieve it.

Johnny caresses your shoulder “It’s alright, little bird, it’s just a scratch. I’ll be fine.” The vibrant blue in his eyes holds a boyish joy to them. “But I’ll never say no to you.” He winks.

The sudden flirtatious attitude from Johnny was whiplash compared to the carnage that surrounded you. “Not now, Johnny.” Simon scolded. It didn’t look like Johnny was sorry, “I gotta tell Price the meeting’s a bust.” He slides his phone out, trying how to not pissed the boss of about this. “Keep an eye on her. And grab her things” He was at least going to grant you that before bringing you into the mess that is tonight.

Johnny salutes, trying to break under the primal fear of the past few minutes that consumes you into being paralyzed in the moment. With Ghost and Gaz gone, it’s up to Johnny to keep you calm enough to not go into shock. His chest puffs up a bit, being given the opportunity to keep you safe and calm, but it’s not the time. “Alright, birdie. Ye want to go grab yer stuff?” Your eyes wouldn’t leave the bleeding bullet graze across his chest. “And maybe that first aid kit.”

A task. Something to help you move forward. You nod soundlessly and gave yourself a moment to calm your shaking hands and your barely controlled breathing.

First aid kit.

You enter the back of the room and head to the office where your stuff is. You’re mind is still a blank with static before you have a chance to realize you’re not alone.

Another weight, this time less gentle, slams you against the frozen storage and pins you there. The wind is knocked out of you as a body twice the size of you covers you. Your head knocks back and you immediately feel dizzy. “No one mentioned there would be a reward.” The stranger leered.

You try to scream again, but there’s a third body knocked into you. Your shoulder is slammed against the door and you hear a snap. Everything hurts. You fall to the floor, no longer pinned against the cold door. Regardless, the world still spins.

You hear a struggle and the few moments of clarity you can get shows that Johnny is grappling on the floor outside the office, his opponent in a headlock. The other man throws an elbow that connects and his grip falters slightly, allowing him to get the upper hand.

The strange man swings again, this time an elbow to Johnny’s nose knocks off his balance, “You fucker!” He growls.

The larger man is able to tower over Johnny, taunting. You are so paralyzed in fear that you don’t spot the shine of a barrel.

A shot rings out. There’s yelling

When you open your eyes again,  the body that was towering over Soap was toppling over, dead weight. The blood pouring out of the hole in his skull a shocking horror to you. You finally start to scream.

The darker skinned man came forward in your field of view, placating “You’re okay, princess, you don’t need to be scared.” Too late.

You slip out of consciousness.