Phantom Rider: The Aftermath | Book 1

My name is Mila

Mila's POV

I stood on my balcony, looking over Tokyo. This had become my nightly ritual: cigarette in hand, glass of red wine nearby, and the muted sounds of the city below. From up here, you wouldn't hear the chaos that defined Tokyo's streets - it was a manufactured peace, call it fake if you will, but it suited me fine.

But who am I to complain? I'm the one who gets to come home after all the filth and madness down there.

I'm above it. Above them.

I could light a candle, soak my skin in a warm bath, drink expensive wine, and be safe in my glass cage while others have no place to wash off their sins. So, yeah, life's not that bad. Especially knowing that finally, Tokyo's underdogs have learned to fear my name.

When I was sent to Tokyo last year after that boy... Tom, made a blood pool in the hospital, a lot changed. I knew from the start that a young, tiny woman with innocent blue eyes, like me wouldn't be treated as someone important, but I was about to change it quickly. 

All those cheap whores and self-hyped, drug-addicted gangsters thought they had seen the darkest parts of life. They were confident in their ability to cause and survive suffering. They had no idea what world I left behind. Sometimes, instead of running around with guns and flaunting their sports cars, they could use some brains.

Oh, yeah, that was it. It took me just one year of using my brains to erase Tom's gang name from history and rewrite it with a new one - Mila.

No one really knew who I truly am or where I came from, and I loved to keep it that way. My name alone was enough to make fat, smelly men run for their lives.

"Drinking again?" A deep voice from the room intruded on my self-praising session.

"It's just one glass of wine," I snapped back, brushing my ash brown hair behind my ear.

"Come inside, dinner is ready." He insisted, sounding proud of himself.

"I'm not hungry," I replied coldly again.

"You can't run on nicotine and alcohol. You have to eat some real food," he said, getting annoyed. He must have tried really hard to make dinner for us, and I, yet again, acted out. How do I tell him the only thing I'm hungry for is my next mission?

I felt a little guilty. He was so rarely home, his business trips sometimes took weeks, and when he did arrive, it always took me a few days to adjust to his presence. I loved being alone most of the time.

"How was that art show?" he asked as I sat by the table.

"Uh?" I had no idea what he was talking about. "Oh, yeah, "that" art show. Alice and I found some cool, rare pieces. We might negotiate some deals tomorrow, so I'll most likely be home late." I lied as I haven't been to any art event ever. 

You'd be surprised how much you can lie to a man who never wants to see the world for what it is. My husband Matt was exactly like that. He didn't want to know what I actually do, so he believed every lie I told him. We worked well that way. Mutually beneficial relationship, right?

He was handsome, well-built, tall, strong, working out. His dark blonde hair perfectly groomed, grey eyes, and a smile that made people lose their guard right away. I did get the best I could -rich, charming, loved by society, and mostly away from home. Jackpot.

Sometimes I wondered how my life would have turned out if I hadn't married at 18. We'd been married for four years now, and I still wasn't sure if love should feel like this.

But everyone loved him, so why wouldn't I love him too?

"You're barely eating anything! Let me help you!" He pushed a spoon with mashed potatoes into my mouth. "Now, eat the whole plate."

"Gosh, Matt, don't do that. I can eat by myself." I swallowed the forcefully filled mouthful of food.

"Sometimes I think you need help doing normal everyday things. Don't worry, darling, we'll fix that." He laughed.

I forced a laugh. What is wrong with me today? Why can't I act playful like he is?

After dinner, I decided to have another smoke on the balcony. The night was cold. Sudden shivers ran down my back, but it wasn't the wind. It was something else. A feeling of something bad. Like an ice-cold hand on my shoulder, as if some entity had reached me, warning of danger. I always trust my senses, and this one was not likeable but felt so common.

What was that?

I looked up at the sky, completely pitch dark, yet one single plane slicing the darkness with flickering lights beneath it. I exhaled a stream of smoke, feeling the cold bite of the night air. Something was off, a nagging sense of arriving trouble that I couldn't shake off me.

Bill's POV

It didn't feel right coming back. The second our plane landed, I was back to point zero. The moment we step out of it, our past will welcome us with pointed guns. But this time, I thought I was ready. I had nothing to lose anyway. But I felt the presence of someone I know. That presence was so common that it made me sure - my brother never left the town!

Gustav looked at me suspiciously as if he had overheard another of my delusions. Was my facade so transparent?