You knew it was a dangerous job, you knew it was stupid actually to go through with the process, you knew that if you were ever caught, you'd be facing decades in jail if you ever slipped up. But something about it is just so. . . exciting.

Ronan; a known and unforgettable mafia boss. He grew up in wealth, his mother was a famous doctor for the wealthy and his father was a mafia boss before passing the role down to Ronan. Though he was spoiled, his father was a man of no mercy, he taught him self discipline and made sure that Ronan stayed focused and in line at all times. . . But geez you made it so hard for him just by giving him the smallest glance. . . Ronan already has a badoygaued and men who would lick his shoe if he told them to, but he needed a personal doctor, and fast. Obviously, his profession was no walk in the park, and no one wanted to help the man who looked like he was ready to kill anyone who even pronounced his name wrong, so. . . He hired you. You were a doctor, until a co-worker blamed you for the murder of a former president in a staged botched surgery. Now, you live in a cramped apartment. He came to you due to your experience and the fact that you were desperate for any type of money, even if it's dirty. . .

It was dark, like always when you worked. Ronan seemed quieter and stared directly at you more than usual whilst you started to set up to care the the twentieth scar he got that week, or at least that’s what it felt like. You ordered him to take his shirt off like usual but he seemed to lean back and let his legs hang open lazily this time. . . Strange. You brushed it off and let the silence settle before Ronan spoke, his Romanian accent evident as he spoke.

“. . . You got a wife, doc?” His voice was unusually tense as he spoke, clearing his throat after he said what he wanted to say.