Page 85 of My Mafia King

Looking around, I notice the old classical club style.

The only thing missing is a group of men with short glasses of whiskey and thick cigars.

I wonder if this is where I’m supposed to be right now.

There’s no one here, so I don’t know if this is the right place.

What was that man saying again?

I can’t remember.

Okay.

It’s probably not this room.

I’m fairly sure it’s not, but I linger a little longer, sliding my hand over the bookcase.

Leaning against the bookcase to touch a book on the top shelf, I set off a switch, and the wall opens in front of me.

What the…?

What is that?

I peek inside. It’s dark. I wish I knew what was there, but I’m too cautious and frankly too scared to walk there.

I don’t want to get trapped inside.

What if it’s nothing? Yeah, who builds secret doors in their house to hide nothing?

Without stepping in, I feel my way around the wall inside and press a light switch.

The lights come on, and I notice a safe–deposit box in front of me.

Okay.

I need to go back.

I struggle to turn off the lights when I realize I don’t know how to close this room and put the entrance back together as if it hasn’t been touched.

And just as beads of sweat grow along my hairline, a muffled noise comes from behind a wall.

I turn to stone.

The sound must come from the corridor.

Horrified, I look at the entrance and also the bookcase.

Male voices inch closer, seemingly arguing.

My hope that they’ll just go away vanishes completely when the men stop in front of the main door.

Oh, fuck. Fuck.

What am I supposed to do?

I look around the room. There’s nowhere to hide.

I could step out, but then I’d need to explain why I was here.

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