I Bullied the Future Mafia's Boss(Dark Bl)

Chapter 6:Shadows of the Night

Kane was passed out on the couch, having lost a drinking game to Rick and the others. His face was flushed, and his breathing was steady but deep. Empty bottles littered the floor, and the room was thick with the smell of alcohol and smoke.

Misfit leaned over Lucas, his breath reeking of whiskey. "So, Lucas," he slurred, his words slightly muddled, "you wanna come with me? I can give you a ride home."

Lucas looked around the room, noting the various states of inebriation among the crew. He sighed and nodded, "Sure, Misfit. Let's go."
They stumbled out to Misfit's beat-up car. The interior was as chaotic as Misfit's house, with empty cans and wrappers strewn everywhere. As Misfit started the engine, he cast a sideways glance at Lucas, his eyes gleaming with a mix of alcohol and desire.

"You know," Misfit began, his voice low and suggestive, "we could always go somewhere else. Just the two of us."

Lucas leaned back in his seat, his mind a whirl of dark thoughts. "Not interested, Misfit. Just take me home."

Misfit's expression faltered for a moment before he forced a smile. "Alright, alright. Home it is."

The drive was anything but smooth. Misfit's drunken state made his driving erratic, the car swerving and jerking unpredictably. Lucas gripped the seat, a flash of an old memory crossing his mind. The accident. The screeching tires, the shattering glass, the chaos. But the memory didn't hold the same power over him anymore. It was just a distant echo.

Misfit kept glancing at Lucas, but Lucas stared out the window, his thoughts far away.
After a few minutes, Misfit tried again. "You know, Lucas, I've got some really good stuff back at my place. We could go back, just for a little bit. No one has to know."
Lucas turned his head, his eyes cold. "I said, take me home."
Misfit sighed, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. "Alright, but you're missing out."

As they neared the Morton mansion, Misfit made one last attempt. He slowed the car down and looked at Lucas with a desperate grin. "Come on, Lucas. Just one drink. One night. You and me. It'll be fun."

Lucas's patience snapped. Without a word, he lunged at Misfit, grabbing his arm and twisting it violently. Misfit yelped in pain, but Lucas didn't let go. Instead, he slammed Misfit's arm against the steering wheel with a brutal force, causing Misfit to scream.

"Drive," Lucas growled, his voice low and menacing. "Or I'll break the other one."
Misfit, eyes wide with fear and pain, nodded frantically. He fumbled with the gear shift, his hands shaking as he tried to comply. The rest of the drive was tense and silent, Misfit too terrified to make any more advances.

When they finally pulled up to the Morton mansion, Lucas got out of the car without a word, slamming the door behind him. Misfit drove off as fast as his injuries allowed, the car weaving chaotically down the street.

The Morton mansion stood as a testament to opulence and grandeur, an imposing structure that loomed over its surroundings. Built in the late 19th century, the mansion exuded an air of timeless elegance combined with a hint of mystery. The mansion's façade was a blend of Victorian and Gothic architectural styles. Tall, narrow windows with intricate stained glass designs punctuated the stone walls, casting colorful patterns on the manicured lawn. Ivy clung to the walls, adding a touch of wild beauty to the otherwise meticulously maintained exterior.

Lucas entered the house, the grandeur of the place almost mocking him. Inside, the mansion was even more impressive. The entrance hall was vast, with a sweeping staircase made of dark mahogany that led to the upper floors. A massive chandelier hung from the ceiling, its crystals sparkling in the dim light. The floor was a mosaic of marble tiles, creating intricate patterns that seemed to dance underfoot. Heavy, ornate furniture lined the walls, and rich tapestries depicted scenes of historical significance. The silence inside was a stark contrast to the chaos he'd left behind. He made his way to his room, his footsteps echoing in the vast hallways.