Chapter 52 Humiliation
The guards led Noah through the compound’s winding corridors, their grip tight on his arms even though he wasn’t resisting. The stone walls seemed to close in around him, bringing back memories he had tried hard to forget.
They stopped outside a heavy wooden door. One of the guards knocked twice, then pushed it open without waiting for a response.
The room beyond was large and dimly lit, dominated by a massive desk made of dark wood. Behind it sat the Mafia King,Ben. His mask still in place, his posture relaxed as if he had been expecting this visit.
“Leave us,” the Mafia King said to the guards.
They obeyed immediately, pushing Noah into the room and closing the door behind them. Noah stood there, keeping his expression neutral, waiting.
The Mafia King leaned back in his chair, studying Noah in silence for a long moment. The mask made it impossible to read his expression, but Noah could feel the contempt radiating from him.
“So,” the Mafia King finally said, his voice dripping with disdain. “The prodigal worker returns. How pathetic.”
Noah said nothing, just stood there and took it.
“You left,” the Mafia King continued. “You walked away from your obligations, because of what? A woman? How weak. How utterly predictable.”
“I came back to work,” Noah said evenly. “That’s all I want. I want my job back.”
“You want your job back,” the Mafia King repeated mockingly. “You think you can just waltz back in here after months of absence and expect us to welcome you with open arms? You think your previous service means anything after you abandoned your post?”
“I never betrayed the organization,” Noah said. “I never talked to anyone, never caused any problems. I just left for personal reasons.”
“Personal reasons,” the Mafia King scoffed. “You mean you couldn’t handle seeing the woman you loved with someone else. You ran away like a coward because your feelings got hurt.”
Noah clenched his jaw but said nothing.
“Do you have any idea how pathetic that makes you look?” the Mafia King continued, standing up now and walking around the desk. “You were supposed to be reliable, dependable. Instead, you proved yourself to be weak, controlled by emotions, unable to separate your personal life from your work.”
He moved closer to Noah, his presence intimidating even without being able to see his face.
“You’re nothing,” the Mafia King said coldly. “You were nothing when you worked here before, and you’re even less than nothing now. A failed worker begging to come back because he has nowhere else to go. It’s embarrassing to watch.”
Noah forced himself to remain still, to not react, to let the insults wash over him without showing how much they stung.
“And the woman,” the Mafia King added, a cruel edge entering his voice. “The one you ran away over. She moved on so quickly, didn’t she? Barely took her any time at all to forget about you and go back to her real life. That must have hurt.”
“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Noah said, keeping his voice flat.
“Doesn’t it?” the Mafia King circled around him slowly, like a predator examining prey. “You gave up everything for her, and she threw you away like garbage. And now here you are, crawling back to the only place that will take you. How does that feel, Noah? How does it feel to know that you’re so worthless that this is your only option?”
Noah’s hands curled into fists at his sides, but he kept his face expressionless.
“I need this job,” he repeated. “That’s all I’m here for.”
The Mafia King laughed, a harsh sound that echoed off the stone walls. “You need this job. You need money. You need purpose. You need someone to tell you what to do because you’re incapable of making your own decisions. You’re a follower, Noah. You always have been. A weak, pathetic follower who couldn’t even keep the one thing that mattered to him.”
He stopped directly in front of Noah, close enough that Noah could see his eyes through the mask’s openings.
“Give me one good reason why I should let you back in,” the Mafia King said. “One reason why I shouldn’t have you thrown out of here or killed for wasting my time.”
“Because I’m good at what I do,” Noah said. “You know that. I won’t cause problems. I’ll do whatever work you assign me.”
The Mafia King was silent for a long moment, considering.
“You’re desperate,” he finally said. “I can see it. Smell it on you. You have no other options, no other prospects. You’re trapped by your own failures.”
“Yes,” Noah admitted, forcing humility into his voice. “I am. And I’m willing to work hard to prove myself again.”
More silence. Noah could feel his heart pounding, wondering if this gamble was about to fail spectacularly.
“Fine,” the Mafia King said abruptly. “I’ll let you back in. But not because you deserve it. Only because we’re short on guards right now and you’re a warm body who knows the systems.”
Relief flooded through Noah, but he kept it off his face.
“Thank you,” he said.
“Don’t thank me yet,” the Mafia King said coldly. “You’re going to be watched constantly. Any sign that you’re here for any reason other than work, any hint that you’re causing problems, and you’re dead. Understand?”
“I understand.”
“And you’ll start at the bottom again,” the Mafia King continued. “All your previous seniority is gone. You’ll do whatever jobs we assign you, no matter how menial or degrading. You don’t get to choose. You don’t get to complain.”
“I understand,” Noah repeated.
The Mafia King walked back to his desk and sat down. “There’s actually a perfect first assignment for you. We have a prisoner who needs to be watched. Someone who’s been causing difficulties, refusing to cooperate. You’ll be locked in the room with her, making sure she doesn’t do anything stupid like trying to harm herself.”
Noah’s heart skipped a beat, but he kept his expression neutral. “Whatever you need.”
“Good.” The Mafia King gestured to the door. “Guards will take you there now. And Noah? Welcome back to your miserable existence.”
The door opened and two guards entered. They grabbed Noah’s arms again and began leading him out of the room.
They descended stone steps, going deeper into the compound. The air grew colder, damper. They were heading to the cells, the place where prisoners were kept isolated.
Finally, they stopped in front of a heavy door with a small window set at eye level. One of the guards unlocked it while the other kept a firm grip on Noah.
“Inside,” the guard ordered.
They pushed Noah through the doorway, and he stumbled into the small room. The door slammed shut behind him immediately, the lock clicking into place.
Noah turned around slowly, his eyes adjusting to the dim light filtering in from the high window.
And there, lying on a thin mattress in the corner, beaten and broken but unmistakably alive, was Nora.
Noah was thrown into the same room as Nora.