The sound of heels clicked against the dark oak floor. The hall lay empty except for the men walking them. "Sir," one of the men called, handing something to the one in the front.
The man grabbed the item, stuffing it into his inner blazer without a sound. The aura surrounding the man was demeaning and overpowering, almost taking over the area.
They entered the room at the end of the hall, facing the people inside. The man took a seat, stretching out his legs while leaning back with crossed fingers. His stance spoke of power, even when he entered a territory that didn't belong to him.
The others with him surrounded him from his left and right while two remained by the door. They kept their eyes on the ones who had already resided in the room. Although, their eyes kept glancing toward the man sitting across from their master.
"Mr. Ambrose, what pleasure do I owe you to come to see someone as low as me?" An older man greeted. He held a lit cigar between his fingers while his other had a glass of whiskey. He sat with his legs crossed, trying to reestablish his dominance in his territory.
The older man held a fake smile, showing the crow's feet around his eyes. His slicked-back short black and pepper hair had zero flaws in sight as his all-black suit made his pale skin stand out. Or it could be his colorful chest tattoo poking out of his open button-up shirt that caught people's attention.
"Mirian," Mr. Ambrose spoke the name with zero respect, "I wouldn't be here if you were lowly."
Mirian chuckled, flicking his fingers as one of his men leaned forward, pouring a drink into one of the empty cups on the table. "Would you like a drink, Mr. Ambrose?"
Mr. Ambrose's cold eyes swept over the drink before peering back at the older man. "You know why I am here, Mirian. It seems, even after a year of taking over for my late father, there are still men who do know simple respect."
"I do not know what you mean, Mr. Ambrose. I have stayed in my territory and have done nothing to disrespect you." Mirian took a sip of his drink with undistinguished eyes.
Mr. Ambrose snapped his fingers, causing one of his men to throw an open file on the table. The contents slipped out, showing pictures of Mirian talking and making deals with some people. And they weren't just random people.
"You are interfering with my business."
Mirian's smile turned stiff as the air shifted around them. The room seemed cold, colder than before. He reached over, snatching the pictures off the table, looking at them.
A few pictures showed Mirian, on Mr. Ambrose's territory, talking with someone at the harbor. He shook hands with the person, laughing while his guards collected boxes.
"This-"
"There is no need for explanations," Mr. Ambrose interrupted, his hands separating as he straightened himself in the seat, "you have been touching my things in my territory. And, Mirian, you should know what happens to the ones who touch what is mine."
Before anyone could move or make a sound, Mr. Ambrose whipped out a gun from his blazer and shot Mirian. The bullet went through Mirian's skull as his head and body loosely laid against the chair. Blood slid down the wound while Mirian's eyes did not have the chance to close.
No one made a sound, the ringing from the quick shot echoing. Mr. Ambrose stood up and walked out the door, "Deal with the rest."
Once he spoke, the room finally moved as Mr. Ambrose's men shot Mirian's men before they could reach for their weapons.
Mr. Ambrose walked down the hall, handing the gun to the man next to him. Once his hand was empty, he straightened his blazer, "Tomorrow, have the people ready at the gym area and get rid of Tin; it is time for a new bodyguard who can do their job."
"Right away, sir." The man pulled out his phone, typing out messages on it.
"Detective Staffan, you cannot opt out of this!" Chief Christen yelled, slamming his hand on the desk. He started pacing back and forward, "you are the best person for this case; it is not like it is your first time doing this."
Staffan ran his hand through his curly brown hair with a sigh. "Christen, I am tired of doing undercover work. And now you are asking me to infiltrate the biggest mafia family in the state? I refuse."
Chief Christen pulled at his hair, growing frustrated with the man before him. Isn't he the boss? So, why is he arguing here? "Staffan, I am the boss here, and I am not asking."
"And I am still saying no." Staffan started before explaining, "Look, I have gone undercover for many gangs, but you are asking me to try with the mafia. And it is not even a small one. Everyone knows the Ambrose family is the most ruthless and powerful people to date. If they catch me, I am dead. No, not even dead; I would disappear off the face of this earth."
Sighing, Chief Christen sat on the edge of the desk, pulling off his glasses as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "I know, but do you think I want to do this? We are fighting a losing battle here, Staffan. More and more bodies are popping up every day, but we cannot connect the family to anything since they pay off everyone. We need definite and concise evidence they cannot erase to get them."
"Why me?" Staffan asked. He could understand the frustration of his boss. Everyone, including him, felt it. The Ambrose family is not easy to take down like some gang. Every evidence they get to take them away always disappears. Even witnesses are never heard from again.
But to do this is asking to throw your life away.
"Do you honestly want me to say?" Chief Christen responded.
"Yes."
"Look, Staffan, I do not mean this in a harsh way, but everyone else here has a family while you are alone. If anything happens to you-"
"No one would care, right?" Staffan finished, his fingers sinking into the seat's arms. Although, his face lay blank, not giving any emotions away.
Chief Christen stood up, clapping Staffan's shoulder, "I do not mean it in that way. We care about you, but your situation is different, and easier for you to do this job. Please, Staffan, we need this."
Staffan pulled Chief Christen's hand off his shoulder, standing up from his seat, "I thought you said it wasn't a choice. When do I start?"
Chief Christen stepped back with a smile, "Thank you. And you will start tomorrow." He pulled a package off the desk, handing it to Staffan, "Learn everything in this package by tomorrow; it has your new identity and the information you need. Mr. Ambrose is looking for a new bodyguard; we have already passed the background part. All we need is for you to sell it when you meet him in person."
Staffan grabbed the package, feeling like his hands were heavy and on fire. He only nodded his head while humming in response. He did not say anything else as he walked out of Chief Christen's office.
On the way to his desk, he could feel the others' eyes on him. They pitied him; he could tell. But he ignores them, sitting down while still glancing at the package. I guess you can say goodbye to your life Staffan because, after this, everything will change for the worse. He thought.
If Staffan knew how accurate his words were, he would have quit on the spot when Chief asked him to do this.
Note: The updates will be sporadic for now.
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