The Empire

ChapterOne.

Author's Note:

Hi there! This is technically the second story I am posting on Wattpad, or have ever posted anywhere, like ever. (My first one wasn't really that good) I'm still working on the plot of this story and it would mean the world to me if you would leave a critique and give me suggestions.

Btw, this story is marked "Mature" for a reason, so beware.

Don't forget to vote!

Thanks a bunch! :)

- kriwiyum

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Phase one: Flirtation. This skill is not solely dependent on the proper use and timing of words. Body language and actions play a huge part of it. A calculated glance, wink, and even flipping of hair, can reach miles than just adding a simple compliment here and there. It's basically psychology, or in my current line of work, reverse psychology. The art of flirtation can get you what you want, if you knew how to play the game.

"Hey Brad, hit me up another round," I nodded toward the tattooed bartender. He was an inside man for River, my associate and mentor. Brad snuck me in to this underground bar through the entrance of a Laundromat. He said the men I was looking for came around here regularly. Now here I was, a predator acting as prey. A role I knew far too well from my vulnerable past.

"Hey there, beautiful," a deep, raspy voice whispered in my left ear. I lean on my right to get a look of him. He wore a playful smirk, yet his dark eyes trailed upon my figure, as if undressing me. I didn't blame him though. I purposely wore this black, low-cut dress and have directed some suggestive glances at him from across the room. It was all according to plan.

Now it was time for Phase two: Verification. To do that, I have to find his branding. I finally gave the creeper a seductive smile and leaned back on the counter, allowing him to encircle me as his hands were placed on either side of me. Men liked being in control. I was letting him think that he was.

"See something you like?" I said slowly. My eyes raked over his body, particularly his arms, muscles straining against the thin fabric of his long-sleeved shirt. I couldn't tell if he had the mark I was looking for. I had to get him alone, clothes off.

"Yeah I do." The pervert leaned in, gliding the tip of his tongue an inch behind my ear, his alcohol-scented breath hot on my neck. I had to muster all of my will to stop myself from kicking him in the groin. He grabbed my waist roughly, him hard on my belly. "But I think it's more of want. When I see something I want, I take it," he said in a matter of fact. He looked over at the crowd he had come in with. Two bulky men were engaged in a brawl.

"Let's blow this joint," he said hastily. He pushed himself from the counter. As I said my next words, I wanted so badly to chug a bottle of bleach. "Yeah, so I could blow on something else of size." His eyes filled with pure lust, as he grabbed my hand and led me out of the smoky, underground bar.

After a few turns, we reach a dead end. The buildings on this side of the neighborhood interconnected to form a maze-like passage. Rumors whispered that this area was the notorious center of prostitution and drug trafficking in the city. Graffiti covered most of the surrounding walls: street names of people struggling to make a reputation for themselves, and even characters that mark the territory of a gang. One I knew to look for specifically. If the man I targeted was who River assumed he was, it was going to get bloody here in a matter of hours.

There were a few men hunched over a small fire, but straightened their posture as we passed by. "Another one for the collection," one murmured, led by a series of low chuckles. My "hook-up" guy led me into a room in the back alley, hollering at the men to not come looking for him for a few hours. I could describe the room in three words: plain, cemented, and square. It had a single mattress and an old wooden chair. In a corner, there was a pile of dirty clothes, in another, a lamp without a shade. I took off my dress and boots, placing them by the chair. I didn't want to soil it with this bastard's blood.