Chapter 81: Mafia
The city streets were cold, the November wind slicing through my black t-shirt as I walked toward the subway station, my boots scuffing the pavement, my hands buried deep in my pockets. My bag bounced lightly on one shoulder, the weight of the night at the brothel—Raya, Kalina, Jonathan’s laugh—still clinging to me.
Aeri’s voice from the phone call echoed in my head, her giggle mixed with Sara’s mocking taunts, and the loneliness I’d felt earlier tightened in my chest. I sighed, my breath clouding in the chilly air, my steps slowing as the station’s neon sign came into view, its glow cutting through the dark.
"Sigh... now that Aeri’s with Sara, I’ve gotta sleep alone in the house," I thought, the idea landing heavier than it should. Two days, just two days, but the thought of our quiet apartment without her warmth—her humming in the kitchen, her soft touch—made the night feel emptier.
I shook my head, trying to push it away, and descended the station stairs which have a bright fluorescent lights. The platform buzzed faintly, the last few trains still running, their distant rumbles echoing through the tunnels. A handful of late-night commuters walked around—tired faces.
I took my ticket card from my pocket, the plastic worn smooth from use, and tapped it against the scanner. The gate beeped, swinging open, and I stepped through, the metal clanging softly behind me.
My mind was already on the train, on getting home, warming up Aeri’s dinner, collapsing into bed.
"Stop," a firm voice cut through the hum of the station, a hand landing heavy on my shoulder, stopping me cold.
"Hmm?" I turned with curiosity as I glanced back. Two men stood there, both middle-aged, dressed in long black coats and dark pants, their faces hard and unreadable under the bright lights.
One had a faint scar above his eyebrow, the other a jaw so square it looked carved from stone. They didn’t look like cops, but they didn’t look friendly either.