NAME: Angelina Williams.

CASE NUMBER: 1109

OFFENCE: Murder.

“You are freed!” the red-haired security guard yelled at Angelina, and she practically pushed her out of the prison. “More criminals are coming in today!”

Angelina’s heart hammered as she stood in front of the towering 20-foot steel gate of one of the biggest prisons in New York City, visible tears rolling down her cheeks in handfuls. She had just come out after five years of unbearable suffering for an offense she never committed. Five good years, wasted!

Her parents were brutally murdered by her ex, Carlos, and till today, she can't seem to decipher why he killed her parents so inhumanely. All evidence pointed towards her that she had killed her parents, and that was why she was jailed. A full five years of her parents’ death sorrow in her heart and the agony of being punished by bully inmates.

She flagged a taxi down to her house. Throughout the drive, she kept sobbing nonstop, staring blindly out the blurred window. She was about to get down when she remembered she had no money on her, her fingers fumbling over empty pockets.

“I hope you become happy soon, miss.”

With that, the taxi drove off into the exhaust fumes, and Angelina moved from her spot on the curb. She got home and found a parcel waiting for her at the usual place where her elder sister had left her messages. She opened it, wondering how her sister had quickly found out she had been released, since she was supposed to serve more than that, apparently.

“My Angel, I am so happy now that you are finally released. Don't bother staying there; come and join the mob squad that I am in right away in Italy. We have to be strong to punish those who did this to us. The clan stopped recruiting ladies for some reasons known only to them, so I bought a guy’s identity for you. Your new name is Konstantin Spade. The QR code entry is in the other parcel. You must get in by all means. See you soon.”

She finished reading, letting out a sharp breath, and rushed inside to pack her stuff in her mini backpack. She didn't bother looking at the house properly; doing that would definitely bring the awful memories flooding in.

Getting on a plane wasn't hard since Amaria already had everything planned for her, her passport slipping smoothly through security checkpoints.

“Bye, New York.”

*

Angelina strapped her backpack properly on her shoulder and beheld the gigantic iron-clad gate before her that almost seemed to want to kiss the sky. She wondered what awaited her as she scanned the QR code with a shaking hand, and it beeped green, the towering gate opening on its own with a heavy metallic groan.

The inside looked like an entirely new world, with different apartments and residential wings so wide that one could get lost. All the guys there had muscles, big arms, and tattoos all over their bodies. The ladies all looked so tall and sassy that she felt so small, her shoulders hunching defensively, and wondered if the place was actually meant for her.

She was still in wonderland when a guy stumbled on her toes, a heavy boot grazing her sneaker, but the guy never even cared or said sorry and started walking away. Being the defiant type that she was, she couldn't accept it, so she dragged the guy by the arm, her nails digging into his sleeve. It was easy for her to drag him because his arm didn't seem as big as those of others.

“He must be a newbie like myself,” Angelina thought to herself, narrowing her eyes.

“Do you not see that you stepped on me?” she half-yelled, her voice cutting through the courtyard hum.

“What's your deal, small man? What are you going to do?” The guy pushed her chest hard. The thought of him touching her bandaged breasts indirectly made her spiral out of control, hot anger flooding her veins, and she didn't know when she punched him, her knuckles connecting squarely with his jaw. The guy retaliated immediately, a wild swing grazing her temple, and it turned into a hot combat, grunts echoing against the stone walls.

“Silas!”

“Handsome newbie!!”

People began chanting, a circle forming around them with greedy, bloodthirsty grins. The fight was still on when a Mercedes-Maybach S-Class drove in, tires grinding smoothly against the gravel, and that seemed to stop the fight involuntarily because the people cheering stopped abruptly, stepping back in unison.

Two ladies, twinning in black short jumpsuits, black knee-length boots, and black beanie caps, stepped out. The first thing one would see on them was their blood-stained hands; they must have been coming back from a mission. They are Emma and Ella, Rage Volkov’s sidekicks. He personally trained them to his abnormal tastes, and they followed him around and carried out his orders. They act like twins at times, but they aren't.

One of them went to open the door for the devil himself, most mobsters call him “Riot.” He stepped out in his usual stony expression, jaw clenched. He raised his eyelids a little, and that was when Angelina’s gaze went to his side.

She locked eyes with him, a direct challenge, which was the thing he hated the most. He smirked at how defiant she was, a cold, dangerous curve of his lips, and mouthed the word “brave.”

Angelina figured out the word with her sharp instincts and wondered why locking eyes with this bastard was a problem; wasn't he just someone like Silas?

Her thoughts were cut off when Rage threw a small, tiny knife he hijacked from an attacker on the mission he was just coming from straight towards her. She was dumbfounded at first, breath catching in her throat, but quickly changed her position, ducking sharply. The knife only gave her a small cut on her cheek, a single drop of crimson welling up.

She looked up to meet yet another dark smirk on his face, and he walked off without a backward glance, swallowed by the crowd.