Mafia Queen [paused]

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇ

The honks of the cars and conversations of passerbys and tourists fills and flows through the air as the car maneuver its way through the busy streets.

My phone kept vibrating non-stop in my pants but I make no attempt to check who it was, already knowing what was going on.

It's the same routine everyday. Wake up, exercise or if possible go to the gym, bath, drive to work then come back home. The same thing happens over and over again and I think I'm fine with it - no - I know I'm fine with it.

But today's just different. I could feel it down to my bones and I don't like it. The difference in today is just that I've been all over the place since morning. Woke up late, couldn't even lift a fucking dumbbell, my car wouldn't start and now I'm having endless calls from people in my workplace - I guess.

Paying the taxi driver, I place my badge over neck as I walk into the building.

Being low on sleep and surviving on caffeine for three nights straight has me feeling grumpy and snappy than usual.

Walking to the elevator, I ignore the stares people around me seemed to give me. I tap my left foot on the floor, impatiently waiting for the elevator and when it finally shows up, I take lazy steps inside with a yawn.

This emergency that had the team wake me better be good.

Arriving on the floor, I take off my jacket and head straight to the conference room, noticing how only a few people were remaining around the office.

Shit.

"...we have no lead."

I could already see the pictures on the whiteboard and the frowns and scowls on my team's faces through the glass doors.

I push the door open and all of their faces turn to me, small smiles on their lips.

I take the head seat, dropping my jacket on the arm of the chair while nodding at my team members.

"Speak to me."

Jack nods, "We got a call from a cop about a man found dead in his apartment."

He walks up to me with a folder in hand, shifting the coffee in front of me before dropping the folder on the table.

I crack my knuckles as I stare at the gory crime scene photos in front of me.

"The corpse seems to be about a couple of days old, why was it just found?" I ask, flipping through the pictures with a sour look on my face.

"Stanley Barley - the dead man - lives alone and in an isolated home too far away for any neighbors to hear anything or notice he has not been out of his home. His body was found by his girlfriend who noticed that he hasn't been replying her texts and calls." Jack explains and I nod in understanding.