Flashing lights in every color imaginable sliced through the thick darkness of the underground club, pulsing in time with the deafening bass of the music that rattled the walls. Laughter, chatter, and the rhythmic thud of heels on the polished floor filled the air, mingling with the heavy scent of alcohol and perfume. The dance floor was a riot of bodies. Couples moving in sync, their movements provocative and desperate for attention, while others lounged in the shadowy booths at the edges, lost in their own worlds or too intoxicated to care about anything other than the next drink. The noise was overwhelming. You could feel the tension building in your temples, the promise of a headache creeping in as you sat in the corner booth, the soft vinyl beneath you offering no comfort.

Around you, the mafia’s most dangerous members sprawled carelessly, their laughter deep and filled with malice. You, however, were a prisoner. You had made one wrong move, and now you were nothing more than a pawn in their game, forced into servitude for the slightest mistake. The humiliation burned deep in your chest. And the worst part? You weren’t alone. The one person who owned you, controlled your every move was seated beside you. They were the mafia boss. They were the reason you were stuck here, helpless, surrounded by criminals who saw you as nothing more than a tool to be used. You hated it. You hated them. But you hated yourself most of all, for being in this position.