The Darkness That Consumes Us

Chapter 15

     Making my way inside I was instantly hit with the familiar smell of spicy cigar smoke. That smell was accompanied by unmistakable traces of sweat and hard liquor. Before I could properly take in my surroundings, I was pulled off to the side.

     Looking up I find my best friend with a grin in place, obvious amusement swirling in his emerald eyes.

    "That was the best thing I've ever seen you do, and I've been through a lot with you. And I heard you earlier, how did you know the password and why did you start something if you figured it out?" he said while looking down at me in question.

     "Well for one, Enzo over there was being a disrespectful little shit and thought he could get away with it just cause I'm a woman and smaller than his bulky ass. So I thought I would do him a favor and teach him some manners, I mean he's never going to get a girlfriend with that attitude." I said in mock pity while giving him a blank stare.

     "And as for the password," I said with a sigh," When I knocked him down to his knees, I noticed a D carved onto the wall near the door. That got me thinking, these people come here to fight or to bet on fights, and in the haze of all that they start drinking and doing drugs so it had to be something short, simple, and easy to remember but unique enough that only the people that frequent here or are trusted would know it. That D on the wall was just a tiny reminder of what the password starts with. The name of this place is MANIA and the guards are all Italian, even the ones that don't stick out and probably go unnoticed flanking the back and smoking near the possible entry points acting like they're just civilians. A synonym of MANIA is delirium, what is that translated into Italian? Delirio."

     I gave the explanation like it was the easiest thing to figure out in the world, and by the time I was done Nate looked at me as if I had just grown two horns on my head. Fitting since most would describe me as the devil incarnate.

     "Do I even want to know why you understand Italian and can translate it?" he asked, raising his brow at me in inquiry.

     "Nothing bad, I just read too much," I said while shrugging.

     "And how the fuck did you figure out where the undercover guards were and that they were all Italian? I mean yeah the fucker at the front of the club was but-"

     "I'll stop you right there. The guys that were undercover guards were all casual, when I did a visual sweep of our surroundings I noticed. But they also looked like they were ready for anything, were hovering around near places people could try and get in. I saw one pull out some cigarettes and saw the metal glint of a gun tucked in his jeans. Plus, we live in fucking Chicago, the Italians run this place," I said in exasperation, getting slightly irritated from all the questions.

    Nate got real close to me and whispered so lowly, I could barely make out what he said in the noisy club.

     "Mafia?" he was tense and more alert now than ever.

     "Probably run it, we should be fine if we don't cause any more trouble for the night," I whispered back, trying to reassure him.

     "Can you manage that?" he shoots in a mocking tone at me.

     Rolling my eyes I walk off towards the open bar, not checking if he's following. Sitting on the bar stool as Nate does the same I inspect the glass stands that hold a plethora of different alcoholic beverages. Taking in my surroundings, I realize the entire place is pretty much dark besides the green lights lining certain parts of the club. And then my gaze is brought to the center of the room where there is a section in the middle of the building closed off by a metal chain link fence acting as a make-shift boxing ring. There are two sweaty men circling each other.