From Street Rat To Mafia Boss

No turning back

“What gave you the courage? You knew who I was. You knew who we are… and you still came? Are you suicidal?”

Dane swallowed hard, voice trembling.

“I was part of the Gang of Thieves once. Back when I was around eighteen… maybe younger. I used to sneak into places, steal valuables. I thought I could pull it off. I didn’t expect this. Please… I’m sorry.”

“The Gang of Thieves? The one that robbed nobles? The one everyone used to talk about?” Butcher asked.

“Yes. That one. I was part of it,” Dane whispered.

Butcher studied him for a long moment.

“We’ll see. I don’t know if you’re lying yet. Maybe you’re a spy. Maybe not. But until I know for sure…” He turned to his men. “Lock him up. We’ll deal with him again tomorrow.”

Dane’s body was still shaking as they untied him from the chair and dragged him into a small, windowless room. The metal door slammed shut and locked behind him.

Alone in the silence, he whispered to himself, “Is this it? Is this how I die? I don’t want to die… I have to survive…”

His eyes scanned the dim room. Then he saw it—curled in the corner was a skeleton, decayed and crumbling. A lifeless, rotting reminder of what awaited him.

He gasped, instinctively pushing himself backward, tipping the chair as he tried to get away from it. His chest heaved. The smell hit him again—thick, metallic, and cruel.

He had heard stories. Everyone had. The Butchara Mafia had killed so many. And deep down, Dane always believed that his father—murdered when Dane was five—had once been involved in some mafia affair. That’s what had gotten him killed.

Now, staring at the skeleton, Dane realized something with terrifying clarity:

He didn’t want to die here.

Not like this.

But what could he do?

Knowing more torture was coming, he forced his eyes shut. He needed rest. If he wanted any chance of survival, he had to be ready.

Outside, Butcher sat in thought, swirling a glass of dark liquor.

“How did he get on the ship without me noticing?” he murmured. “I can always feel it when someone’s hiding… always. But this time? I walked right past him.”

He frowned.

“That shouldn’t be possible.”

His fingers tapped the glass.

“Tomorrow, I’ll make him confess. If he’s a spy, he dies. And even if he tries to run to the cops, it won’t matter. They work for us.”

He chuckled darkly, but then his smile shifted into something more thoughtful.

“One thing’s clear… he’s good. Too good. Hiding like that takes skill. If he’s really who he says he is…”

The grin returned—sharp and calculating.

“I’ll make him mine. He’ll work for me. Because this?” He glanced out the window toward the sea. “This isn’t enough. I’m Butcher, boss of the Butchara Mafia, but that’s not all I want.”

As morning arrived, Butcher ordered his men to give Dane food so he would have energy for whatever Butcher was about to do to him—whether it was a beating or something worse.

They did as Butcher said, bringing Dane food. As he ate, he cried, knowing this might be the last day of his life. But it was fine because the food they gave him was something he had never eaten before. He mostly survived on bread and stolen fruits from the market. He had never bought a proper meal in his life, but now, for the first time, he was eating one. So even if he was going to die, he accepted it.

Butcher entered the room. “Hurry up and eat fast.”

Dane rushed to finish, his fear growing.

Butcher ordered him, “Stand up.”

Dane stood up immediately.

“Punch me,” Butcher commanded.

Dane hesitated but then swung at him. Butcher dodged and smacked him hard across the face, knocking him to the ground.