THE BETRAYER'S GAME

You win, I win

I ordered a taxi to Deon's place. He lived in a sleek, modern home, all wood and greenery, with flowers and plants spilling over every inch of the property. Deon was two years older than me, a childhood friend. He lived with his mom ever since his dad had walked out shortly after he was born. Still, his dad funneled money their way every month, making good off his real estate ventures.As I stepped out of the car, I caught a whiff of the most heavenly feast, fighting for dominance over the earthy scents of his garden. I made my way to the door, eager to join what I assumed was breakfast. Walking in, I found Deon already eating, completely shameless."Bro, I was waiting! Hope you don't mind I started without you," he said, grinning, soda in hand at 6:20 a.m. I rolled my eyes. 

"As long as it's not a table full of things I'm allergic to..."Of course, it was exactly that—a table packed with every food I couldn't eat. I glared at him as he burst out laughing.

"Got you there!" He swapped out the allergy-ridden spread with an actual feast, his immaturity still surprising me even after all these years. Money well wasted on a dumb prank.

We settled down to eat. Deon, about my height, looked almost immaculate: shiny, brushed-back hair, deep black eyes, pale skin smooth as porcelain.

"So," he said, leaning back, "heard you got fired from that event job."

He didn't know my real background with the Mafia, so I played it off. 

"Wasn't fired—I left. Mrs. Laura wasn't exactly... easy to work with."

"If you say so.  As for me I just got a banking job—big step, huh?" His grin was a bit too smug.

 I almost wanted to tell him that not even two years ago, I could have bought his entire bank. 

We ate, chatted about old times, our exes, the usual. He invited me to stay the day, but I didn't want to disturb his mom, still asleep upstairs. He also offered me a ride home, but I knew he'd just use it as an excuse to mock my apartment, so I declined. At least he was decent enough to pay half my rent.

I ordered another taxi, but when it arrived, I was surprised to see a green limousine. Climbing in, I took the back seat, noticing that the driver didn't look especially friendly—blond, scarred lip, green eyes, a build so muscular it looked like his shirt was about to tear. The car looked far better from the outside, though; the seats were worn, the screens shattered, and the scent of stale pistachio mixed with something sour lingered.It wasn't long before I realized we weren't going the right way. 

"Um... excuse me, sir, that's not the way to my apartment."

Silence. I knew better than to push further, so I waited, planning an escape. I glanced around—no visible weapons. He clearly had no idea who he was trying to kidnap.

The first chance I got, when we slowed for a speed bump, I smashed the window and stumbled out, landing hard on the pavement. It had sounded way cooler in my head. I made a mental note to stop watching Bridge of Spies.

As I bolted, the man called after me, "Hey, Amico nostro!"

I froze. Amico nostro—that was our code in the Mafia. They'd found me. Impossible.I forced myself to keep running, adrenaline pushing me on. But then he fired, hitting me in the left foot. I crashed to the ground, pain tearing through my leg, and he pulled me back into the car. I only remembered the panicked looks of a few passersby as darkness claimed me.

I woke up groggy, in the back seat of that dismal limousine. My leg was bandaged, so they wanted me alive. With escape out of the question, I decided to negotiate.

"So... Mafia guy, I've got a deal for you," I said, forcing myself to sound confident.He didn't respond.

"Something beneficial for both of us," I added, trying again.

Finally, he looked at me through the rearview mirror. "What deal?"I leaned forward, as if sharing a secret. "You want money, right? I know of a diamond, worth over 

$60,000. Can the Mafia offer you that kind of cut?"

He raised a brow. "Keep talking."

I glanced around, lowering my voice. "There's a hidden Chinese restaurant, not far from here, full of cash, electronics, and the diamond. Play it right, and it's all yours. No one even knows where it is."

He eyed me, skeptical but intrigued. "And the catch?"

"No catch. I tell you where it is, but you keep feeding me inside info, and you let me walk out. You'll make far more than whatever they're paying you to deliver me."

He rubbed his chin. "How do I know you're not lying?"

I smirked. "What do you have to lose? If I'm lying, you can still do whatever you want. But if I'm not, you're looking at a payday bigger than anything they've got planned."

After a pause, he finally nodded. "Alright. Tell me the details, and if it checks out, you're free to go."

"Good doing business with you." We exchanged numbers, him introducing himself as "Vinny."

We crafted a cover story: I'd "escaped," something he'd pass on to the remaining members of the Mafia. He mentioned that the Mafia was rebuilding, recruiting fresh blood after most of their original members had been locked up. Their new leader, Carlito Keene, was set to take over soon, and their current target was Dominic Maskowat over some financial grudge. Which meant Tory's dad! She was in danger. Whoever that Carlito was, I was ready to fight him for Tory.

He dropped me off at my apartment, promising to stay in touch. Limping up the stairs, I collapsed onto my bed, my mind racing, now trying to figure out how I'd take on a Mafia of nearly a hundred people alone.

Everything was restarting. I thought I had thrown that life away. I was sick and tired of the criminal world but for my loved one, the only one that accepted me, I was ready to jump back in that bullshit even stronger.

I quickly had to find allies, people of trust.

And then, I thought of them.