ASHER POV :

I was standing on my balcony, the evening air cool against my skin as I took a drag from my cigarette, watching the city lights flicker in the distance. The quiet moment was interrupted by the sharp ring of my phone. I pulled it out of my pocket, and Mykel's name lit up on the screen. Without hesitation, I swiped to answer, holding the phone up to my ear. "What's the matter?" I asked, my voice cold and impersonal, a tone I'd perfected over the years.

"Good evening, boss," Mykel's voice came through, calm but with an edge of urgency. "We found the traitor, Sam. We've brought him to the basement." I didn't respond immediately, letting his words hang in the air. I took another drag from my cigarette, feeling the smoke swirl in my lungs before slowly exhaling. The mention of Sam didn't surprise me, betrayal was something I'd long anticipated. Still, the finality of it all gnawed at me.

I hummed softly, a sound that was more acknowledgment than approval, then cut the call abruptly. Without a second thought, I dropped the cigarette, grinding it out with my heel as I turned to face the staircase leading down. The weight of what needed to be done settled on me, but it was a burden I carried without question. I walked toward the stairs, my footsteps deliberate, each one echoing in the otherwise silent hallway. The descent felt heavier than usual, but it was something I had to face.

As the heavy doors creaked open, the sound of agonized cries immediately filled the air, grating on my nerves like an incessant buzzing. It was the kind of noise that clawed at your patience, irritating and relentless. I stepped forward, my boots echoing on the cold, damp floor as I moved deeper into the basement. The path before me was stained with blood, a dark trail leading straight to where my guards were busy exacting punishment on our so called betrayer. 

A dark chuckle escaped my lips, the sound of it bouncing off the barren walls and filling the basement with an unsettling chill. The sight before me was almost too perfect Sam, trembling and bloodied, a broken man in every sense. I walked up to him, each step slow and deliberate, savoring the moment. When I reached him, I sat down on the floor, bending low so I could meet his gaze directly.

"Hey, Sam," I said, my voice smooth and cold, laced with mocking sympathy. "How's our special guest treatment? Is there anything missing from your requirements?" I leaned in just a little closer, watching his face twist in pain as he coughed up more blood, his eyes flicking between me and the guards who were still beating him.

He didn't respond, unable to do much more than cough violently. I couldn't help but smile, my expression shifting into something dark and twisted. I leaned back slightly, my eyes never leaving his broken form. "Your greed for money has dragged you to the very depths of hell, Sam," I continued, my tone growing colder with every word. "You thought you could play us all, but look where it's brought you." 

His bloodied face was a testament to the cost of his betrayal, and as he gasped for breath, I couldn't help but feel a sick satisfaction. There was no mercy in this place, no room for forgiveness. Just the consequences of his actions, now playing out in front of him. I kicked him and he fell down. "so? any last words?" I asked. "Kill me, please" He shivered and muttered with the last vestiges of his energy left. "Consider it done," I said and shot his head. I made sure every bodyguard saw me kill, so that the fear would be ingrained in their minds and prevent them from making mistakes. ." clear this mess," I ordered my right hand man, Mykel.

As I walked out of there, I felt the weight of everything still pressing on me. I made my way to my room, locked the door, and stood under the shower, letting the water run over me, trying to wash away the chaos of the day. Afterward, I poured myself a drink, the burn of the liquor easing the tension in my chest, and I drank until I finally slipped into a restless sleep. 

But even in sleep, I couldn't escape. My mind took me back to a time long ago, to a simpler, happier place. I found myself back in the garden with my mom. We were laughing, carefree, the sun warm on our skin as we played together. It was a perfect moment, a memory I cherished. 

Then, suddenly, the sound of gunshots tore through the air, sharp and jarring. The world shifted in an instant. My mom's face went pale, her eyes filled with fear as she grabbed me, pulling me into her arms. She didn't say a word, just held me tight, her grip firm but gentle, and we ran. I could feel the panic in her as she moved, each step frantic, each breath sharp. I was crying, not fully understanding what was happening, only knowing that I was terrified. 

She tried to console me, her voice trembling as she whispered reassurances and promises that everything would be okay, that she would keep me safe. But even in my dream, I could feel the weight of what was happening, the fear that was seeping into me from her, a fear that I couldn't shake even now, years later.

Then, without warning, someone barged through the door. My mom immediately shoved me into a closet and whispered, "Stay quiet, no matter what." I could barely breathe, but I listened to her, my tears streaming down my face as I cried silently, my heart pounding in my chest. She turned and left the closet, her face filled with fear and determination. I could hear her footsteps fading, and I knew she was walking into danger.

I heard the men grab her, their voices rough and menacing. They tortured her right before my eyes, her screams echoing in the air, each one cutting through me like a knife. Her cries for mercy were so raw, so desperate, that they're still burned into my mind, playing over and over again, even now. 

I cried uncontrollably, my small body trembling, unable to do anything to save her. And then, just as the nightmare reached its unbearable peak, I woke up, gasping for breath, drenched in sweat. The images from the dream were still fresh in my mind, and the pain in my chest felt just as real as it did back then.

It was well past midnight when I finally came to, my surroundings dim and almost surreal. The room felt foreign, like I was still stuck in the remnants of a bad dream. My vision was all blurry, everything around me spinning slightly as I sat up, disoriented and heavy-headed. A dull throb pulsed in my skull, and I instinctively raised my hands to my head, pressing my fingers against my temples in an attempt to ease the pressure. But nothing seemed to help the pain didn't fade, and my mind remained foggy.

I looked around, trying to focus, but the room seemed to warp in front of me, like it wasn't quite real. My body felt disconnected, as if I was drifting somewhere between consciousness and sleep. That's when I remembered. 

I reached over to the drawer beside my bed, the familiar feeling of the wood under my fingertips somehow grounding me in this haze. My hands shook as I opened it, searching for the small bottle I knew was there, the one I promised myself I'd never touch again. But promises, like everything else, feel distant in moments like this. I found the pills, pulled them out, and stared at them for a moment. 

I hated myself for it. I knew what they would do, the false comfort they'd bring, how they'd numb the ache in my mind and body. I hated how easily I reached for them, how it felt like an old habit I couldn't break. No matter how hard I try to stay clean, no matter how much I swear I won't go down that path again, I always find myself here, in the dark, reaching for the very thing that keeps me from facing the truth. 

I swallowed the pills, the bitter taste lingering as I leaned back, waiting for the familiar fog to settle over me. But even as the numbness crept in, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was losing a part of myself with each pill, sinking deeper into something I couldn't control. I slowly lost my consciousness and drifted off to sleep