Trapped in the Mafian's Web

Chapter three

Aurora's POV

Gus looked up from his coffee, his sharp eyes narrowing as he recognized me. "Well, well. If it isn't the fearless reporter. What brings you to my humble abode, Miss Thompson?"

I slid into the booth across from him, ignoring the grease stains on the red vinyl seat. "I need information, Gus. Something big."

Gus chuckled, the sound low and gravelly. "Big, huh? You always need something big. What is it this time? Corrupt politicians? Celebrity scandals? Or are you digging into the mafia again?"

"Nothing like that," I said, keeping my voice steady. "It's about a man found in an alley this morning. Police are investigating. He's either homeless or a victim of something darker. I need to know who he is and what happened."

Gus raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his seat. "A body in an alley? That's not exactly front-page material, sweetheart. Happens all the time in this city."

"This one feels different," I insisted, meeting his gaze. "There were too many cops, too much tension. They're keeping it quiet, and that tells me it's not just another drunk who stumbled into the wrong place."

He sipped his coffee, his sharp eyes studying me. "And what makes you think I know anything about it?"

"Because you always know, Gus," I said, leaning forward. "You've got eyes and ears all over this city. If anyone knows something, it's you."

He smirked, clearly enjoying the flattery. "You're not wrong. But information isn't free, Aurora. What's in it for me?"

I clenched my jaw. Gus never helped without some kind of payment. "What do you want?"

"Let's see," he said, tapping a finger against his mug. "That exposé you wrote on Councilman Greer last year? Cost me a good deal of money. How about you do me a favor this time?"

I frowned. "What kind of favor?"

"Nothing illegal, if that's what you're worried about," he said with a grin. "Just a little story suppression. There's a certain article about a certain businessman that I'd like to see… disappear."

I stiffened. "You know I can't do that. I don't kill stories, Gus. Not even for you."

He sighed, shaking his head. "You're too righteous for your good, kid. Fine. I'll give you a lead, but you owe me. Someday, I'll call in that favor."

"Deal," I said without hesitation.

He chuckled again, shaking his head. "You're too eager. That's going to get you in trouble one of these days." He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "The guy in the alley? Word on the street is he wasn't some random vagrant. He's connected to the Blackstone Club."

My heart skipped a beat. The Blackstone Club was one of the most exclusive and secretive organizations in the city, rumored to be a hub for the rich and powerful. If the victim had ties to them, this story was bigger than I'd imagined.

"Do you have a name?" I asked, my voice steady despite the excitement bubbling inside me.

Gus shook his head. "Not yet. But I can tell you this—if the Blackstone Club is involved, you'd better watch your step. They don't take kindly to outsiders poking around in their business."

"I can handle it," I said firmly.

Gus laughed, a deep, rumbling sound. "You're a stubborn one, I'll give you that. Just be careful, Aurora. This isn't some tabloid fluff piece. You're playing with fire."

"I'll keep that in mind," I said, standing up. "Thanks, Gus."

He waved me off, already turning his attention back to his coffee. "Go get your story, kid. And remember—don't come crying to me if it all blows up in your face."

As I stepped out of the diner, the cool November air hit me like a slap. The mention of the Blackstone Club sent a chill down my spine, but it also lit a fire in my chest. This was my chance to prove myself—not just to Marlene, but to everyone who had ever doubted me.

I pulled out my phone and called Janet.

"Tell me you have something good," she said as soon as she picked up.

"I've got a lead," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "The victim might be connected to the Blackstone Club."

Janet let out a low whistle. "That's huge, Aurora. But also risky as hell. Are you sure you want to go down this road?"

"I don't have a choice," I said. "If I don't bring in a story by tomorrow morning, I'm out of a job. Besides, this could be the break I've been waiting for."

"Okay," she said reluctantly. "Just promise me you'll be careful. The Blackstone Club isn't a joke."

"I'll be fine," I assured her. "I'll keep you updated."

After hanging up, I took a deep breath and started walking. My next stop was the Blackstone Club itself.

The Blackstone Club was located in a sleek, glass-walled skyscraper in Midtown. From the outside, it looked like any other high-end establishment, but I knew better. This was where the city's elite came to cut deals, share secrets, and bury scandals.

I stood across the street, staring up at the building. Getting inside was going to be a challenge. Members were vetted thoroughly, and security was notoriously tight. But I wasn't about to let that stop me.

I pulled out my phone and did a quick search, hoping to find a backdoor—or at least someone who could help me get in. After a few minutes of scrolling, I found a lead: a freelance photographer who had worked several events at the club.

"Bingo," I muttered, dialing his number.

The phone rang twice before a gruff voice answered. "Who's this?"

"Aurora Thompson," I said quickly. "I'm a journalist, and I need your help."

There was a long pause. "Help with what?"

"Getting into the Blackstone Club," I said bluntly.

He laughed, the sound harsh and skeptical. "Good luck with that."

"I'm serious," I said. "I'll pay you for your time. Just tell me how to get in."

He hesitated. "It's not about money, lady. Getting in there isn't easy, and even if you do, you won't get far without a member's approval."

"Then how do I get a member's approval?"

Another pause. "You don't," he said finally. "But if you're set on this, there's one guy who might be able to help you."

"Who?"

"Lucas Gray," he said, lowering his voice like he was afraid someone might overhear. "He's a big shot in the club—one of the top dogs. If anyone can get you in, it's him. But good luck getting him to talk to you. He doesn't deal with outsiders."

"Where can I find him?" I asked, my pulse quickening.

The photographer sighed. "He's usually at the club in the evenings. But trust me, you're better off walking away from this one."

"Thanks for the advice," I said, ending the call.

Lucas Gray. The name sent a shiver down my spine, but it also sparked a sense of determination. If he was my way into the Blackstone Club, then I'd find a way to make him talk.

And I wouldn't take no for an answer.