The Mafia King's Deadly Sin

She had just killed a man.

Not intentionally, though. She would never kill a rat, not even the one that pillaged her shabby apartment every night, let alone a man-even one as awful as him.

Her heart raced in her chest as the gun fell from her shaky hands. She waited, expecting someone to barge into the exclusive room and discover the body of the nightclub's highest-paying client on top of her.

But no one came. Why would they? The gun had a silencer, which stifled the sound of the bullet as it pierced through his skull.

Serena managed to push the body off her, and it landed on the floor with a thud.

Again, she waited for the fat guard at the entrance to burst through the door, but he didn't. The pounding music from the club drowned out everything else. She could barely hear her own sobs as she stared down at the lifeless body. The wavy purple and dark blue lights in the room barely illuminated him, but she could tell he was young.

She hadn't meant to kill him. He had tried to rape her. The torn pieces of her stripper clothes were proof of that. But who would believe a stripper?

Oh God. She started hyperventilating.

Serena knew it was a terrible idea to take this gig, but it was supposed to be a one-time thing. Just enough to cover her overdue bills and rent. Her landlord was already threatening to kick her out of the apartment.

But sleeping on the streets was still better than spending her life in a jail cell. Serena bit her nails nervously as she contemplated her next move. She could report everything to the manager, but who knows what she'd do.

Serena recalled the manager's cold words when the man had picked her for his "entertainment."

"Mess this up, and I'll take your head."

She wasn't sure if the woman meant it, but Serena didn't want to find out. There was only one thing she could do.

First, though, she needed to look decent. The thin piece of clothing covering her ass and boobs had been ripped during the struggle. Her eyes darted around the room until they fell on the dead man's jacket. She hesitated. She already felt guilty about killing the man-now she was about to steal his jacket?

But on second thought, he wouldn't need it where he was going.

She threw on the jacket and took deep breaths, trying to calm her racing nerves. It didn't help.

The overwhelming guilt of leaving him in a pool of his own blood gnawed at her. But she reminded herself over and over that it wasn't her fault.

When she finally managed to silence the tiny voices in her head and turned to leave, she tripped over something and fell onto her hands. She craned her neck to see what had caused her stumble.

A black briefcase.

She straightened up and opened the case. Her jaw dropped as the contents stared back at her: it was filled to the brim with hundred-dollar bills.

This money could change her life and her sister's. She bit her lower lip as she considered her options. Serena glanced at the dead man, as though seeking his permission.

She wasn't about to add theft to the list of crimes. She hurried over to the vent and removed the lid. Crawling through the vent wasn't exactly her first choice, but she couldn't risk running into the fat man outside.

She slithered through the vent until she reached the restroom. She peered down into the toilet through the holes in the vent cover. In the first cubicle, a young woman had her face buried in the toilet.

She must be wasted, Serena concluded, as she kicked open the vent and jumped down into the third toilet cubicle. Her heart was still racing. What if the guard had already checked the room? The club management might be looking for her already. She wasn't safe until she got to her apartment.

Serena stepped out of the cubicle and paused in front of the mirror. Her face was stained with mascara, and her red lipstick had been smeared terribly. The image of the dead man pressing her against the couch, one hand on her neck, the other trying to pry her legs open, flashed through her mind. She shoved the image aside. She was safe now, she told herself as she splashed water on her face.

Serena shoved her trembling fingers into the jacket pocket as she stepped out of the restroom. She would be home free soon.

---

Serena sat crouched on the sofa, nursing a cup of coffee. She hadn't slept a wink since sneaking home the previous night. She switched from one news channel to another, waiting for the inevitable report of the dead man at the club, but there was nothing.

By noon, she gave up and poured the rest of her cold coffee down the sink. There was no way the hotel management hadn't found the body by now. Maybe they didn't want the police snooping around. She once heard that the club was a front for an underground drug business. Police attention would be bad for business.

Maybe they sent out henchmen to track her down and kill her. That was less messy and kept the police out of it.

Oh God. She was hyperventilating again.

"Jesus, Serena!"

Serena jumped, and the glass fell from her hand, shattering on the floor. Her sister, Rita, quickly turned off the faucet.

"Are you alright? You look pale," Rita asked, her blonde eyebrows knitted in worry. Rita was her younger sister-the pretty one, with her slim model body, long blonde hair, and piercing green eyes. She always knew how to wrap men around her perfectly manicured finger.

"Uh, I..." Even her voice trembled. She had to get it together or she'd expose herself. Clearing her throat, she said, "I'm fine."

"Good. Can I borrow fifty bucks? I'll return it, I swear."

"I don't have any money," Serena replied quietly as she cleaned up the broken pieces from the kitchen floor.

"I'll pay you back."

She never did.

"Rita, I honestly don't have any money. I thought you had a modeling gig last week."

"Well, I did. But I needed the money for something important," Rita said, making a face.

Serena frowned. Rita would never grow up. She had to stop expecting better. "You promised to help with the bills!"

"Chill, okay? I have another gig next week. I'll give you the paycheck, I promise."

"Just forget it," Serena replied, exasperated. If she wasn't in jail or murdered by next week, she'd make sure Rita kept her word this time.

"So," Rita said, giving her puppy dog eyes, "about the fifty bucks..."

Serena glared at her before marching out of the kitchen. She couldn't stay home; she feared she'd lose her mind before they even came for her.

She threw on a dark hoodie and sunglasses to avoid being spotted easily. Satisfied with her look, she grabbed her keys and left.

---

Serena made sure to keep her face down and took side streets just in case. After a few too many turns, she arrived at her best friend Ann's house, the one person to blame for her current predicament.

Ann opened the door on the third ring and immediately burst into laughter. "What, are you a spy now?"

"I wish," Serena said, stepping inside as Ann shut the door. As always, Ann's tiny apartment smelled of baked goods. Ann loved experimenting with new recipes, and Serena was always her lab rat. Not that Serena complained-it meant free samples, except for the time Ann tried to bake a "healthy pie" with kelp and no sugar. It had been dreadful.

"What's up with you?" Ann asked, stepping out of the kitchen with a plate of cupcakes.

"I killed a man," Serena blurted.

"And I went to the moon," Ann giggled as she set the plate down on the coffee table. "Come on, what did Rita do this time?"

Serena fiddled with the keys in her hand as memories from the previous night flooded back. Tears welled up in her eyes, and her fingers trembled.

Ann grasped Serena's trembling hands. "Girl, you're scaring me now."

"He tried to rape me."

"Who?"

"The man at the club. He tried to rape me," Serena sobbed. "He held my neck so tight, I couldn't breathe. I tried to push him, but he wouldn't budge." She was crying uncontrollably now. "I grabbed the gun from his belt, and I shot him."

Ann pulled her into a protective hug. "Hey, it's alright."

But Serena knew it was far from alright, and Ann did too.

"They haven't said anything on the news, so it means the police don't know yet. Maybe that's a good thing," Ann said.

Serena sniffled. "I don't know. I heard some of the other strippers saying the dead guy was very influential. His family will want revenge-they're probably looking for me already."

Her heart started racing. Was this how she'd live the rest of her life? Hiding, always looking over her shoulder?

"If you're right, Serena," Ann said, standing to her feet, "then you and Rita need to leave town immediately."

It wasn't a bad idea, except that she didn't have any money, and she wasn't even sure Rita would want to leave her friends and her budding modeling career. Rita would want to know why the rush, and Serena wasn't sure she could trust Rita not to tell her friends. Leaving Rita behind was out of the question.

What was she going to do?

Just then, her phone rang.

Serena and Ann exchanged panicked glances. "Rita?"

"Unfortunately, Rita cannot come to the phone right now," a deep male voice spoke.

Serena's heart immediately sank into her stomach. "Who is this, and what have you done to my sister?" she sprang to her feet.

"She's not dead yet. But she will be if you're not here in the next ten minutes." He disconnected the call.

Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. Serena had thought she had enough time to leave the city, but her crime had already caught up with her. Now, her sister might pay for her sins.

"What is it?" Ann asked, her face a mixture of fear and concern.

"They have Rita," Serena sobbed, her eyes darting around frantically in search of her keys. She found them tucked between the sofa cushions and grabbed them. "I have to go."

"We should call the police."

"No. They'll hurt Rita," Serena threw over her shoulder as she bolted out the front door.

Serena raced through the streets, a prayer repeating in her mind. *Please let Rita be fine. Please let Rita be fine.* She couldn't live with herself if something happened to Rita. Rita was all the family she had left, and she had promised their mother she would protect Rita with her life.

She could not fail her mother again. She had already failed her before.

Serena was out of breath by the time she arrived at her apartment. The elevator was taking forever, so she turned to the staircase, tripping several times before reaching the eighth floor.

When she got to her flat, the door was wide open, revealing her trashed living room. The men were gone, and so was her sister.

It had been three days, and there was still no word from Rita or her captors, whoever they were.

Serena paced around her messy living room, contemplating what to do next. She hadn't gotten around to cleaning up the mess that was made in her house. There was barely any time for that. Between frequent trips to the police station and trying to find her sister herself, there was hardly any time for sanitation.

She had filed a missing person report at the police station the previous day, conveniently leaving out the part about the dead man, even though Ann had told her not to, so as not to upset Rita's kidnappers. But Serena still went ahead to file the report, hoping the police would be able to find Rita.

But they still hadn't found her sister. The police were convinced her sister had probably left town to go on an escapade or something like that, even though Serena tried to convince them otherwise.

When a knock came on her door, Serena almost ran to answer it, until she heard a very familiar voice.

"Seh-reee-na!" he called in a deep, slurred voice.

Drunk during the day. Typical! Serena thought as she unlocked the door. The strong stench of alcohol and body odor hit her nostrils. She could have sworn her eyes stung from the smell. "Mr. Mike, good morning," she forced the brightest smile she could muster.

It was the 20th already. Damn. She had promised to have her three months' rent ready by the 20th because she had hoped her one-night strip dancing gig would pay off.

The greasy, fat man crinkled his nose. "You look like hell," he said.

Coming from him, in his filthy overalls, worn-out shoes, and yellow teeth, Serena barely felt insulted. If it were anyone else, she would have stomped on their feet and slammed the door shut.

"So, where is it?" he asked.

"Where is what?" she asked, feigning ignorance.

"Don't act like a fool. You said you'd have my money today. So where is it?"

"I don't have it right now, but I will-"

"What the hell happened in my apartment?" he shrieked, his eyes fixed over Serena's shoulder.

Instinctively, she glanced briefly at the mess in her apartment. "Rita threw a party. I'll clean it up," she replied impatiently. She just wanted the man to leave already, so she could go back to thinking about how to find her sister.

"Rita sure is a wild card," he added. Something about the way he smiled disgusted Serena.

"I'll have your money ready soon." As soon as she found her sister, they would be out of this shitty apartment and in a different city, far away from here. But in the meantime, she still needed a place to hunker down.

"There are a lot of people dying to have a place as nice as this to live in. Now you've got it, and you're taking it for granted. I'd really hate to kick you and your sister out onto the streets."

Serena resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Nice place, indeed. This had to be the shittiest apartment ever, with rat-infested kitchens, smelly stairways, trash in the corridors, and loud drunks who always picked the middle of the night to fight and sing the national anthem.

But she wasn't going to tell him any of that, not until she was ready to leave the apartment. "I'll have your money soon."

He looked her over, his eyes pausing briefly at her exposed legs. Suddenly, she felt naked under his gaze. A small smile played on his chapped lips. "You're no Rita, but I can think of one way you can pay me," he ran his tongue over his lips.

If Serena had her way, she'd cut his tongue out and feed it to him for even suggesting such a thing. "I'll let you know when I have your money," she replied before slamming the door in his face. She could hear him cursing and calling out to her, but she'd be damned if she opened the door again.

She was so sick and tired of men trying to have their way with her, just because they were stronger than her or knew she had her back against the wall. If that stupid man at the club had kept his hands to himself, he would still be alive now, and she wouldn't be in this situation.

If only she knew the name of the dead man, she would at least have a hint as to who might have taken her sister. She was certain that whoever took her sister must be related to the dead guy.

Then a bad idea lit up her brain like a light bulb. The club manager certainly knew the name of the man since he was a VIP client. It was a terrible idea to show up at the club after killing someone and disappearing, but she was desperate.

Desperate enough to follow through with her crazy idea.

One of two things would happen once she got to the club: she'd either be killed and dumped in the sewage somewhere, or she'd find out who had her sister.

Adriano was on his way to Mexico to close a deal when he got a call from Godfrey informing him that his brother had been found dead in his club. Adriano always knew Diego's love for women would cause a lot of problems for him, but he never thought it would result in death.

His little brother might have been a lot of things-stupid, a womanizer, unreliable, childish-but he didn't deserve to die, not like that.

Not only had that woman dared to kill his brother, but she had also disappeared with his briefcase containing two million dollars.

Adriano had sent his brother to the club that night to close a deal on his behalf since he had urgent business to take care of in Mexico and had to fly out that night. But, as usual, Diego got carried away by the sight of a beautiful woman.

Adriano had planned to make his revenge quick: go to the woman's house, take his money back, and return the bullet she put in his brother's head into her pretty little head. But it got a little complicated because he found the woman's sister, and apparently, her sister had no idea about the murder or the money. So he had to take the sister as leverage.

Adriano sighed as he rubbed his temple. He had to find another way to raise two million dollars to pay the cartel for the weapons they supplied. And now, he would have to sell his nightclub to raise the money.

A knock came on the door, and Godfrey, a fat man with a tiny goatee, walked in. "Boss, you sent for me?"

Adriano motioned for him to take a seat. Godfrey complied.

"Have you spoken to the buyers yet?" he asked.

"They think three million is way too much for the club, especially after the fact that someone died here. They're scared the police might come sniffing around," Godfrey replied.

Adriano stroked his stubbled cheeks. He hadn't had time to shave since his brother was killed. Adriano had made sure to keep the murder of his brother under wraps. Police were bad for business. And when rival cartels find out, they may take it as a sign of weakness. The manager was the one who found his brother, and Adriano made sure he was paid handsomely to keep his mouth shut.

But something like this couldn't be kept under wraps for too long, and Adriano knew this.

"Boss, why don't we sell the prisoner to Brayo's cartel? That would buy us enough time to raise the rest of the money without having to sell the club. Diego loved this club," Godfrey said, his voice softening at the last part.

Diego sure loved this club. He had even been saving up to buy it from Adriano. That was the only good business idea Adriano ever heard from his brother. The club was a serious money maker.

Adriano poured himself a drink and downed it in one gulp. "It's not a bad idea." Even though he had planned to use Rita to lure her sister out, Adriano really wanted to meet the woman who was brave enough to seduce his brother, kill him, and make away with his money. He was almost sure she was sent by a rival cartel to infiltrate his club.

The moment he lays his eyes on her, he would squeeze out every bit of information from her and his money and then dump her strangled body in the middle of the road for everyone to see. That will send a message to any gang trying to mess with him again to think twice.

But selling Rita meant that her sister would remain in hiding. It's not like she would be stupid enough to waltz back into his club after what she has done.

"What about Mexico?" Godfrey asked.

That was another problem all together. Padrino was on his neck, the deadline was already approaching. That was why he was heading to Mexico. He hoped to buy more time.

Adriano poured himself another drink and downed the brown liquid. He cleared his throat as the liquid burned his throat on the way down.

"I am handling it," Adriano replied. He will handle it once he has finished all unsettled business here.

Godfrey did not seem convinced, but Adriano couldn't care less. Godfrey knows better than to question him.

"Anything I can do to help?" he asked instead.

"You can bring me the woman who killed my brother," Adriano snapped and immediately regretted it. "Have a drink and then you can leave," he said in a softer tone.

For the rest of the day, Adriano had to deal with the incessant calls and making burial arrangements for his brother. He still had not made an official announcement to his cartel about the passing of his brother. He had hoped to catch the woman that killed his brother and bury her head alongside his brother's corpse. It was only fair.

By the end of the day, he was drained and just wanted to head hope take an ice bathe, have a decent meal and then rest.

When the a knock came on his door he grunted in annoyance. "What is it this time?"

Godfrey pulled the door open slightly and tucked in his head. "Boss, someone is here to see you," he said.

But Adriano was in no mood to entertain anymore visitors. "Tell them to come back tomorrow," he said with his gaze fixed on his phone.

"You would like this one," Godfrey insisted.

Adriano raised his eyes from his phone and found a small smile on Godfrey's face, the kind he usually had whenever a prey fell into his perfectly crafted trap. "Alright then," he replied.

Godfrey left and shortly after, a knock came on his door and a slender woman in an awful baggy jeans and a faded hoodie stepped into his office. She had an unsure look on her face but still held her chin up in defiance. She had a little fire in her eyes, a fire that reminded him of himself thirteen years ago when he was in the streets and struggling to provide for himself and Diego. A fire that made El Padrino pick interest in him.

The woman was not his usual kind of woman, even though she had blond hair which he loved in his women. He quickly pushed the thought away.

"What do you want?"he growled.

"My name is Serena and I want to talk about the man that died in your club," she blurted without flinching, as though she talking about something as simple as asking for a job.

Realization dawned on him as Adriano rose to his feet. Who could have known that she would be so stupid as to waltz into his club?