From Street Rat To Mafia Boss

Dane was a 24-year-old boy with the eyes of someone who had seen too much.

At five, he became an orphan. With no one to care for him, he learned to survive on the streets. By seven, he was already a skilled pickpocket. He often got beaten when caught stealing from the market, even though he was just a child. The bruises came often—so did the hunger.

He became a thief, stealing every single day. People would chase him, yelling “Street rat!” That was the only way he could survive in a broken, lawless country. He did what he could, tried his best in everything, but survival was the only thing he knew.

Now, at 24, Dane was still pickpocketing. He worked at a small bakery, but it wasn’t enough. Recently, he had been questioning his life.

Why isn’t anything changing?

Why is my life stuck like this?

Am I going to be pickpocketing forever? Is this it? Just the bakery and the streets?

Rent was a constant struggle. Now that he had a place to live, he couldn’t even afford to keep it. He needed to figure something out.

What else can I do?

He stepped out of the bakery, deep in thought. A man passed by, and almost instinctively, Dane slipped his hand into the man’s pocket and took his wallet. He flipped it open, counted the cash.

Enough for a meal today.

The bakery owner didn’t pay him. Their deal was simple—bread in exchange for work. Occasionally, the old man gave him a few coins, which Dane saved. But most days, he relied on bread to survive.

If I get caught, I’ll get beaten… again.

The only time things were good was when he was with the Gang of Thieves. They broke into noble houses and stole valuables. It was dangerous, but they made real money. That ended when their leaders were killed and many members arrested. The gang fell apart.

Now, there was nothing. The country was corrupt. No jobs. No future.

If this goes on, I might be alone forever.

He often dreamed of a peaceful life—far from the chaos. A quiet island, a small house, the woman of his dreams, a couple of pets. Not rich, just okay. He had that dream most nights, but reality crushed it each morning. He could barely eat.

As Dane counted the stolen money, he muttered to himself. He returned to his room and dropped the money into his savings jar. He wouldn’t use it for food. Rent was due, and the landlord had started banging on his door.

He knew if he got caught stealing again, the bakery would let him go. The owner had warned him. Dane always begged and pleaded, and the man—reluctantly—let him stay. After all, the old baker gave him bread for breakfast and dinner. That was all he had.

He longed for a proper meal.

It’s getting late, he thought. I have to get back to the bakery.

As he approached the shop, he noticed two unfamiliar men talking nearby. He didn’t pay them much attention—until he caught part of their conversation.

“We need to move fast. The Butcher Boss already brought the ten packages. His men are loading them onto the ship now.”

“The boss is filthy rich,” the other man said. “Gold goose. Can you believe that?”

Dane froze. Is he trying to say Gold bar. That could change everything.

Maybe it’s wrong, he thought. But I was a thief. I’m good at sneaking in and out of places. If I could just get one bar… just one…

He had heard the rumors about the Mafia—what they did to people who crossed them. It was suicide to get involved.

But the dream flashed in his mind again—the house, the ocean breeze, someone to love.

If I steal just one, I could start over. I could live that dream.

He made his decision. He wouldn’t go back to the bakery. He was going to the ship.

Everyone in the city knew where the Butchara Mafia docked their ship.

When Dane arrived, he spotted the gold bars being unloaded from a van and carried onto the vessel. The workers were focused, too distracted to notice him.

He slipped aboard unnoticed.