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The Unconditional: Living With A Mafia

The Unconditional: Living With A Mafia

Author:Riza Estelle



“I don’t care about anyone else. Just imagine what I can do to you.” - Clive Benedict. I am not the type of girl who gets easily scared. But the way he calmly spoke the words gave me the chills. It was then I knew, I am terrified of Clive Benedict.” After years of searching, Clive Benedict finally found Helene. Hiding behind those marks are dark secrets. Will she solve the true meaning as to why she was kidnapped by the notorious mafia gangs or will she be just like any of those other twisted girls involved with Clive Benedict.

"Get your filthy hands off of me, you moron! I swear to God, if I get out of here, I’ll cut you open," I screamed as I pummeled my fist around, trying to remove the zip ties that were wrapped around my arms and legs.

"I told you we need to sedate her, you said she will not put up a fight," one of the men said on top of his lungs as he grabbed me by the arms much tighter. They pushed me down into a chair and tied me to the pillars using zip ties

With the use of a blindfold, they were able to hide their location. The last thing I recalled was walking back home from the coffee shop before I was abducted by two buff men wearing all-black attire and a mask covering their whole faces. I tried to fight resulting in bruises and scratches on my arms before I was drugged using a handkerchief filled with chloroform. When I woke up, I was already placed in an empty, dark, and narrow room. The blindfold was not removed until I was called to the other room where the other members of the gang were. It was a small, fully-furnished room that smelled like musk and cedar. An elegant three-head light that hangs above the ceiling and a black mahogany dining table surrounded by seven ottoman chairs. "Sit here while we wait for the boss," one of the men grunted at me, their faces still covered in a plain black mask.

"Just wait ‘till I get out of these ties." I glared with my eyes, looking for ways to cut the zip ties around my wrists.

The three men went outside of the room, giving me the chance to formulate my escape plan. As my eyes inspected the room, looking for possible exits or windows, and with the use of my senses, I peeked through the window. I estimated that we were on the third floor of the building. Unless I want to be in a vegetative state, I cannot use the windows to escape. I tried twisting the doorknob using my tied hands, only to find that the doors were locked from the outside, giving me no luck in escaping. I tried changing my plan, searching for any sharp weapon that I can use to cut the ties.

The door slowly opened and I quickly sat back on the chair. A tall man about six foot one came in, he has this dark brown hair that is almost covering his hazelnut-colored eyes. He was wearing a midnight-blue silky long sleeve that is half-tucked into his tattered black jeans held up by a black Thom Browne belt. His plumped lips and his sweet smile are the features that caught my attention. Who would’ve thought that this man right here is the boss? "Finally, I’ve been looking everywhere for you for years," his deep and cold voice matched his features perfectly. The way he spoke is as confident as a politician convincing the people to vote for him, it was rather, calming and intimidating at the same time. He carried the whole conversation.

"Well, I can’t say it’s nice to meet you." I flashed a rather sarcastic smile as I rolled my eyes. “I’d love to give you a hand but your men here tied me up,” I added.

"Helene Jensen," the man spoke deeply, showing signs of annoyance at my response. I gave him a frown and a raised eyebrow, "Would you mind introducing yourself and explaining why you instructed your men to abduct me?" I mumbled. As the man walked towards me, he bent slightly aligning his gaze at mine.

"I smell the fear in you," the man grunted as he let out an annoying smirk. He executed a boastful amount of confidence. I laughed at his remarks while kicking off his legs, his confidence fell right then and there.

"Are you kidding me?" I sarcastically asked, while laughing hard. "I’m sorry, but your aura doesn’t even tingle." I managed to control myself of annoyance during the conversation, I took deep breaths to stabilize my rate. A loud impact rang through my ears, followed by a flush as warm as a sting of a bee in my left cheek. My eyes widened, shocked at the thought that the man who I thought had a sweet smile, just slapped me hard on the face which left a red mark. Just as shocked as me, his eyes widened and he’s breathing heavily as he touched my face, tracing the red marks from his slap.

"Let me remind you of the number one rule here, Helene. I’m the boss here, I will be in charge of everything, just like everyone else here, you need to treat me with respect." His sweet smile turned into a serious look as he let out a deep hollow voice that you can mistakenly think of like a growl. I stopped myself from letting out sarcasm. I know that this conversation will go nowhere.

Let’s just put it this way, he is a psycho, who thinks that he’s superior to God. An egoistic prick who builds a thick wall by intimidating people to hide his true form of vulnerability.

His face almost touched mine, it was just centimeters apart. There was a scar extending from above his left eyebrow across his left lid. It was rather odd-looking, a purplish skin surrounding his left eye, it seemed as though it hadn't fully healed yet.

"Respect begets respect, or so I say," I responded. He slowly caressed my legs vigorously cutting the zip ties with his swiss knife.

"Then shut your mouth. I can be good but once disrespected, you wouldn’t like it,” he scoffed.

“I don’t care about anyone else, just imagine what I can do," he added, as he trails his fingers on my skin down to the zip ties of my wrists. I was about to open my mouth to let out deathly remarks but he turned his back abruptly leaving the room.

“Follow me,” he instructed. I immediately stood up, massaging my wrist.

I followed him through the narrow corridor where a small room approached with a red velvet carpet laying on the floor. Nordic decors hung from the wall on each side of the room, at the middle of the wall was the “Beach at Scheveningen in Stormy Weather”, a painting from the famous artist, Vincent Van Gogh. It was a bit worn out and dusty, probably it was bought ages.

"Let’s meet the others," he quickly grabbed my wrist, pushing me to the front. I squirmed through the pain as he dragged me with a tight grip. I tried breaking free, however, his hands were tightly pressed preventing me from moving. As he let go of my wrist right away, I stumbled through the corridor hitting my head lightly on the wall.

"Forgive my manners, it was very rude of me not to provide a proper introduction," he smirked while lending me a hand to stand.

He patted the top of my head to relieve the pain from the fall, "I'm Clive Benedict," he mumbled softly through my ears. He assisted me as we walked towards the room where I noticed six other men waiting for us.

As we entered the room, it was filled with smoke from the tobacco they were using, it smelled as if it were a combination of citrus and cigarette. I let out a small cough as the smoke ran down through my nostrils quickly radiating to my head giving me a slight tear. Residing in the middle of the room, was a casino dealer prepping for the table where the other six men stood.

They were so fascinated as to how the cards were being shuffled they didn’t even see us enter the room." What do you think you’re doing, Clyde? Which part of the “no smoking in this room” was not clear for you?" Clive lets out a loud grunt, causing the people inside to abruptly throw their cigarettes and face us.

"Shit, sorry Clive," Clyde and the other guys immediately fixed the room and allowed ventilation in exchange for the smoke.

All eyes were pinned on me, “such fine-looking men,” I whispered. Not knowing that they heard me, six of the members chuckled softly as they were walking towards us, trailing one by one.

"These are my blood brothers, my business partners," Clive speaks boastfully, proud of the nuisance he’s making. To my shock, my eyes widened thinking through my head how in the hell did I end up with these mafias. As I've heard, they are the most notorious group of drug lords, named Blood Kings, roaming around the city, not just the city, but the whole country.

I’ve heard they are the most wanted criminals right now. “Oh, God! Will they sell me for trafficking?” I was thinking of the possible tragedies I’m going to face. I felt like it was too late for me.

"Blood kings? How lame." The thought accidentally fumbled loud out of my mouth. At this point, I’m just wishing that he didn’t take it seriously. Talking to him definitely will be the death of me, although Clive seemed to not care about my sarcastic remarks. I just don’t think he’ll even give a shit what comes out of my mouth.

"I knew it, it’s lame as fuck," one of the guys wearing a beanie muttered with annoyance. I noticed him right away due to his dyed mint blue hair. He lets out part of his gums as he smiles. His soft chuckles prompted the other members to laugh along with him.

"Nobody asks for your opinion, Swaine," Clive says as he raises his eyebrows, clearly annoyed with the other members as they continue to laugh, this time hard.

"You guys sounded like a bunch of schoolgirls," It seemed as though a loud voice echoes through the room immediately causing them to stop, "How about each of you give a brief introduction about yourselves, we all wouldn’t want to be rude,” Clive uttered as he heavily pulls the chair causing severe striking pain in our ears.

As he sat, he abruptly stretched his legs wide apart letting out a soft moan as he leaned on the table. I scoffed at his show-off assertion of authority.

"I'm Drae Ford. I’m the mind behind every hacked computer and database. I’m the eyes of the members when it comes to FBI records, the reason why we can freely roam around the city," he stroked his fingers through his hair as he proudly introduced himself. Hiding behind those innocent dimples is a fraud, if not for him altering the database, they would’ve been in jail long ago.

Drae carefully scans the room for the next person to introduce himself, it seemed as they were not used to these kinds of talk. Through my peripheral vision, I can see Clive’s visible annoyance at what’s happening inside the small casino room. As he leaned back, he called Arko.

"If you’re looking for firearms, I can give you the best. I’m also the one responsible for training hitmen." He’s the most handsome of all and he knows it. As his eyes scan my body he lets down a small smirk. “I’m Arko Claires,” Arko scans my body from top to bottom as he tugged out a small grin on his full lips. eyes scale my body up and down, a small smirk tugging at his full lips. The awkwardness was visible as we locked our gaze.

"Swaine Feller," the guy with the mint blue hair speaks lazily, it’s obvious he’s not enjoying the thought of needing to introduce himself in front of the crowd.

"Is that all that you can say?" The blonde guy shorter than Swaine stood next to him swaying his arm, prompting him to carry on. Swaine gave him a stare that somehow seemed like it rose from hell.

"I don’t need to be very open." The blonde guy lets out a heave, clearly affected by the negative aura being produced by Swaine, "I'm Clyde," giving each and everyone a warm smile.

"I'm Voltaire, you can address me however you like," he walks towards me and acts like he will give me a handshake. He caught me off guard, Voltaire was an oozing radiance.

I can see his slender long legs and his thighs perfectly elongated. His black hair was shaved on the sides while tied in a hefty man bun. "Don’t be such a player," Swaine mocks Voltaire who stood in front of him and gave him a light fist on the shoulders allowing a soft grunt to escape his mouth.

"Should you introduce yourself, Graeme?" Clive pushed back his chair as he stood, slightly intimidating the members.

The dark gray-haired boy spoke as he played with the cigarette in his mouth. He’s treated as the youngest member despite his buff muscle protruding on his shirt. He had a remarkably distinguishing tattoo on his left arm.

"I'm Graeme King, just like you, I was left in an orphanage." Graeme sees the frown on my face as anger builds inside me.

When I was a child, I couldn't hide the fact that I was moved a lot of times. Different foster parents each year, while my birth parents are having the best days of their lives. I’ve been to different foster families that I’ve had experiences such as being physically and verbally abused. I was also drugged by my foster dad which left the deepest scar in me. It was hard for me, I haven’t had any real friends. I moved to different places. I kept searching for someone who would love me as their own. Somehow, the things that I experienced molded me to be who I am today. A strong independent woman, who learned to survive on her own.

The guys gazed at me signaling me to introduce myself as a courtesy. Even though it’s not necessary, to be fair, I did introduce myself, “I’m Helene Jensen, and I don’t know why the fuck you guys kidnapped me.”

It’s almost evening, still, I did not get any explanation as to why the fuck was I here. What I had concluded, however, was that these people were insane. They were completely out of their minds. Every single one of them screamed danger. Not once had they stopped bragging about their successful kills which only left me feeling sick to my stomach. I didn't know if it was just a scaremongering tactic but something told me they weren't joking and my hunches usually aren't wrong.