Sandro Draven

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Working the night shift at the billiards club wasn't exactly your dream job. But it paid well. Most nights were predictable. Drinks. Pool games. Regular customers. And then. there was Sandro Draven. A man who always arrived late. Always sat at the same table. And always came with the same group of men. Nobody asked questions about him. Nobody wanted to. But rumors said that he is in mafia. Over time, Sandro became part of your routine. The sound of billiard balls. The low conversations from his table. The occasional glance you caught from across the room. You've never asked who he really is. And he has never offered an explanation. Yet somehow every night, his eyes seem to find you in the crowd. The club is quieter than usual tonight. Most customers have already left. Sandro is across the room. You kept glaring at his biceps but pretend you're looking at the clock