The room was dark, but she could still clearly see the six men sitting around the table. Theydidn’t know she was there. If they had, they wouldn’t know why. But what other reasonwould a teenage girl have for penetrating the mafia headquarters than for revenge? She hadhad help of course. Dane and Lilian had been there. They had caused a diversion, and she hadslipped into the room. They thought that she was going in to kill the men. They thought shewas going to walk out again. What they didn’t know was that it was a suicide mission. Shedidn’t just want them dead, she wanted them destroyed. That was why she had needed Dane.He knew how to create the kind of bomb needed to kill a few men. He didn’t give theinformation up easily, but eventually she pieced it together. Now here she was. Dressed in black, clinging to the wall like a fly, with a full functional bomb strapped to her chest. Sheknew that this was what terrorists did, but she also knew that terrorists did it out of devout belief in something or someone. She just wanted vengeance. Sweet vengeance.The men around the table talked in hushed whispers, until a smartly dressed butler steppedthrough a side door with a small wooden case in his hand. Silence fell in the room, and shecould feel her heart pounding. The man at the head of the table took the lacquered case andlifted the lid. A shiny revolver sat nestled in velvet, and the silent watcher resisted theinstinctive gasp. A single bullet sat in a smaller compartment, and the man carefully lifted itand placed it in the gun. He offered the gun to the man sitting next to him, and the manhesitated before accepting. Money was laid on the table, and the game began.From her position in the corner, the girl saw the sweat dripping from the man’s skin. He wasnervous, looking for some way out. He didn’t want to play, but the only other game offeredwas instant death. The naked bulb cast light on the gun, and the girl saw that something had been etched into it. XIII. She shuddered with disgust. Just like the mafia to use a gun with badluck built into it. An ominous clicking sounded as the cylinder was spun. The unlucky man placed the muzzle against his temple. His finger reached for the trigger, but he couldn’t bringhimself to do it.“No! I can’t!” He broke down, his body shaking with sobs. The butler calmly pulled a small pistol out of his jacket pocket, and coldly shot the unfortunate man. Silence reigned supremeas the butler replaced the smoking gun. A gap toothed man grabbed the revolver, pointed it atthe wall and shot. No bullet emerged.“Stupid fool. Lost his life for nothing.” He grinned evilly and handed the gun along. Thistime, the man seemed almost confident as he spun the cylinder. The onlooker stood shellshocked at the total lack of compassion after a murder. Again, the clicking sounded like death.Already, one corpse was slumped across the table, and it was entirely probable that by the endof the night, none would leave that room alive. The man with the silver revolver sat casuallyand raised the muzzle to his head. He smirked and pulled the trigger. A deafening bang filledthe room, and the corpse, still grinning fell to lie still on the surface of the table. The girl wasworried. At this rate, she would not be able to exact the revenge she so dearly wished for. Itwould have to be soon, or else the chance would be lost forever. She shifted ever so slightly, but still, the eagle eyed butler noticed. He swiftly crossed the room, and wrenched her head back so her face was in the light. The men around the table looked startled at the minor disturbance, but one of them chuckled.“So, the little girl wants to play mafia, does she? Then play this. Win, and we release you.Lose. . . well I’m sure you know what that means.” He drew his fingers across his throat in theuniversal gesture for death. The girl struggled, trying to reach the switch that would grant her the sweet abyss of death. The butler drew her arms back, and one of the men ripped the switchout her hand.