Chapter 1: Introduction
The clank of my boots against the pavement echoed through the dimly lit industrial park. The musty scent of grease and oil permeated the air, punctuated with a tinge of something darker - the metallic tang of blood, spilled only recently and not yet stale. It filled me with the sick, twisted excitement that had become all too familiar in these late nights.
Lights winked out at the mention of my name, a tag as old as I was, given to me during the first week after the surgery had been done.
I felt the eyes of the Mob Boss pierce right through me, as if I were some mere lab rat to be toyed with. He couldn't have been farther from the truth.
The Mob Boss took his time, casually sizing me up, stalking around like a predator assessing his prey. As he crossed the threshold, the metallic door heaved shut behind him, blocking off the sound of traffic from the outside world. A shiver ran down my spine, a symphony of building tension.
The glint in the Mob Boss's eyes told me that he wanted to break me, to put me in my place. I braced myself, every nerve end firing.
"You're wondering what the catch is, aren't you?" he growled. His fingers idly tugged at the zipper that held the front of his pants closed. "I can see it in your eyes."
"You could say that," I replied coyly, taking a step forward. My hips swayed, purposeful and provocative.
I could feel his gaze bore into me, inching down my chest, fixating on the slight swell of my breasts, so damned real and yet so curiously artificial.
"Well, that's just too bad." The Mob Boss's lips curled into a self-satisfied smirk. "My little experiments don't come without their price."
He crossed the distance between us, closing the gap with determined steps. I could smell the musk of him, permeating the air with a scent that was all too brutally human.
He stood close, far too close, his breath hot against my skin, sending an unwelcome tingle down my spine. I swallowed hard, defiance dancing in my eyes. I would not be the mouse to the Mob Boss's cat.
"Don't worry, baby," he cooed, the scent of gin and spite on his lips. He ran a hand through my hair, tendrils curling around his fingers in a familiar way, as if he were an old lover.