Gangs of Stockholm: A Fallen Angel

By Luke. G. Dahl

Immerse Yourself In A Psychological Thriller set in Sweden's Organized Crime Underworld, Brought To You By Luke G. Dahl!

Gangs of Stockholm chronicles the true crime mafia biography of Eric, a 15 year old boy who is drawn deeper and deeper into Stockholm, Sweden's underworld; a dark and gritty lifestyle that exposes the young man to the dangerously enticing and lucrative world of drug trafficking and money laundering. Once he gets ingrained into the criminal system, can he ever escape his life of crime? Will the gang war with rival Swedish mobs cost him more than just his morals?

Eric discovers how even the most insignificant details can sometimes play an important role in his life - it's never too late to make the right choice. Is there always a way to make things right… or are there some things in life that are simply irreversible? 

From the author of Amazon's bestseller Daddy Curse comes this new, heart-wrenching novel about dangerous life choices, criminal inclinations, and second chances.

Page Up and Order Now.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cedenheim Publishing
• Release date: May 3, 2018
• ISBN: 9789163970382

Luke. G. Dahl

Luke Dahl was born in Sri Lanka but grew up in Stockholm after being adopted by his Swedish parents. Following high school, he went on to study at University in Brisbane, Australia, where he achieved a degree in Business/Travel and Tourism. Today, he is back living in Stockholm, where he works for SpaceVR as CFO. Luke has always had a love of writing and for poetry in particular, winning a competition a couple of years. Now he spends a lot of his free time writing scripts, perfecting his art.  When he has time to relax, he enjoys going out with friends and seeing his family. He also loves to travel whenever possible and is involved in charity work through his family, constantly reminded by the Dalai Lama quote - 'Be kind whenever possible. It is always possible.'  In the future it is Luke's burning ambition to trek to Mount Everest's base camp and perhaps even attempt to climb the mountain itself one day.

Book preview

This is a work of non-fiction. I have tried to recreate events, locales and conversations from Eric’s memoirs. In order to maintain their anonymity in some instances, names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales and incidents, are either the products of real events, or the author’s imagination in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Gangs of Stockholm: A Fallen Angel

This book contains strong language and explicit violence

Editing by Stephanie Hoogstad

Thank you for being such an inspiration to me and others around you

First edition. May 3, 2018.

Copyright © 2018 Cedenheim Publishing

Written by Luke. G. Dahl.

Gangs of Stockholm

A Fallen Angel

Luke. G. Dahl

Contents

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

EPILOGUE

CHAPTER 1

The alarm clock they had forcefully placed beside me rang loudly, jolting me from my deep sleep back into this world. I reached over from my bed and turned the annoying thing off. Knowing fully well that my tormentor would soon be around, I decided to make the best use of the rest of my sleeping time that morning, no matter how short it was. I covered myself with the blanket, trying to get sleep I knew I would never get.

You know alarms are for waking up, right? an unsolicited voice informed in a gruff manner.

I groaned in frustration, knowing that I can no longer enjoy that early morning sleep I had so craved for.

Don't they understand that early morning sleep is the best? Why can’t they just shift school to the afternoon or even evening? That way, I don't miss my precious early morning sleep, I thought as I stubbornly tried to get to sleep.

Wake up, sleepy head! the voice shouted again from the doorway, disturbing my now-fake sleep.

I hissed and rolled over again as I resumed my search for sleep, not wanting anyone to disturb me.

You aren't going to stand up now, are you? the voice asked, now sounding closer than earlier.

I grunted in disapproval; the next move wouldn’t be a very favorable one for me.

We are going to be late, you know that, right? the persistent voice asked again.

Just leave already, old lady. Stop mothering me, I protested in a frustrated voice.

Nah! I don't think so. You are not gonna make us late again, she said as the early morning rays suddenly hit my eyes. She had obviously pulled back the blinds, knowing fully well that my hatred for early morning sun rays was only seconded by my hatred for alarm clocks. In fact, right then, I didn't know the one I hated the most out of the two.

I could hear my tormentor finally exiting my room, leaving a clattering sound in her wake. Having no choice but to sit up now, I scanned my room with my puffy eyes and realized I had quite a lot of cleaning to do. And I had to be fast about it to avoid being late to school, which might get me into another trouble at school.

My room, which was usually a very fine one when arranged, was now in a state of complete disarray. My clothes (the dirty ones and the not-so-dirty ones) were all in a heap on the floor in front of the wardrobe that once housed them. I had dumped them on the floor when I was looking for the appropriate socks to wear to school the previous day, you know how those socks are; you see one and look for the other. I'd always been told to tuck the pairs of socks inside each other, but really, that process was just too stressful, and the result of my disobedience was my clothes spread all over the room. The floor at the foot of the bed was also littered with chocolate wrappers; okay, I know I'm a big boy and everything, but the chocolate was just one childhood thing I never got over.

Still fantasizing? the voice said again with the owner of the voice peeping from the door in mockery.

I threw an empty chocolate box at the brunette head in an exaggerated manner. She laughed softly as she bounded away cheerfully.

I finally left my bed for the bathroom. Spending less than five minutes there I was able to successfully brush, take my bath and wash my hair in one fluid moment.

As I stepped back into my room from the bathroom still dripping with water, I slipped on one of the numerous CDs I had strewn on the floor in front of my CD player. Clinging onto one of the speakers beside the CD player to avoid hitting my head on the wall, I pulled it down with me. Hearing a crunching sound, I knew I had to find a way of repairing the speaker or get the money for another one in any way I deemed fit. My mum would throw a fit if she discovered that I had somehow managed to spoil the new speaker.

I started to pack the CDs but later thought better of it. I could not make my room look presentable with the few minutes I had left, even if I were to develop a superhuman ability.

Running through the cloth on the floor, I picked out a black T-shirt, a black pair of corduroy jeans and a black jacket. Donning these, I stood in front of the mirror looking at my reflection. I still had my plump baby face that I was trying very hard to shed. My brunette hair and rosy cheeks further added to my boyish look. However, the good thing about still having my baby look was the fact that girls fell easily for me and most people's first impression of me was a brunette boy with rosy cheeks.

Fine! I knew I was being vain, but I couldn't help but smile at my reflection.

Still crushing on yourself, are we? my annoying sister said as she stood in the doorway, hands akimbo, her round face well-accentuated with moderate cheeks. Her jet-black hair was packed in a ponytail at the nape of her neck.

You can feel the awesomeness, can't you? I replied with an equal jibe.

All I can see is an overgrown baby, which I bet is why Betty isn't feeling you enough, she said, hitting a rather sore spot.

Sod off! I said vehemently.

Betty was a girl I had a rather soft spot for since junior high. She, however, seemed to be immune to all my boyish charm.

Brushing my hair quickly, I picked up my backpack and headset and made my way to the dining room where the rest of the family was already seated, waiting for me.

Good morning, Mum, I said, planting a kiss on her forehead and giving her a dose of the charming boy's smile before she could start a lecture on punctuality and why I shouldn't keep everyone waiting.

Morning, Sweetheart, she replied, signaling for me to get seated.

My mum was a beautiful brunette who, although already in her late forties, could still pass for a twenty-two-year-old lady. Her model-like figure could certainly carve a niche for her in the modeling world, but instead, she prefers the financial sector. Dressed in three-piece suit and trousers and hair in a tight bun, she exudes authority that comes with years of rubbing minds with the bigwigs in the financial world.

Good morning, Popsman, I saluted, giving my dad a high-five.

Morning, Sonny, he replied, beaming at me. A short, frail-looking man, my dad was dressed in casual, washed-off jeans and a striped shirt that hung loosely on his small body.

The only person left at the table was my sister, Jennifer, whom I intentionally ignored. Stuffing my plate with several slices of toast that I knew I wouldn't be able to finish, I started tucking myself in with the rest of the family.

Are you sure you will be able to finish that? Jennifer asked, eyes glistening with malice.

Thanks very much for the concern, Madam Nutritionist, but not all of us are watching our weight like you, I replied.

I knew I had hit a nerve, but I couldn't care less. She was already getting on the plump side and since she had been called Fat by a girl in her class, she had resolved to reduce her food intake. I was still mad at her for mentioning Betty that morning, so I decided to rub that in.

Well, not all of us look like we are suffering from malnutrition, she said in equal vein.

As you can see, I look just like Mum and unless you think Mum is also suffering from what you just mentioned, then your submission is null and void, I said, putting her in a very tight corner.

Opening her mouth to say something in retort, she closed it again as she thought better of it.

Give your sister a break, Eric, Mum said, already done eating.

She started it, I said.

You kids should finish up your food and meet me in the garage in two minutes time, she said, rising to her feet.

I took the remnants to the sink and hurriedly did the dishes. Mum, although quite motherly and nice, didn't take nicely to being kept waiting. Punctuality is a very core value you must possess as a Carlson, Mum would always tell us.

I left Dad in the house with his nose buried in a newspaper.

Bye, Pops, I said as I waved at him, picked up my backpack and slung it over my shoulder.

Bye, Sonny! Be a good boy. Uhm! my dad said before burying his nose deeper into the newspaper.

Dad, an engineer at one of the topnotch construction companies in town, was on his annual leave and had all the time to himself to do whatever he deemed fit. Being an introvert by nature, he stayed at home to watch the news or read the newspaper, going out only occasionally for a drink with the boys, as he called them, or golfing at a resort center where he was a member.

Stepping outside, I noticed that the temperature had dropped significantly; the house heater had obviously interfered with the course of nature in the house, as my dad, who preferred natural things, would say. He had planted a small garden of flowers in front of the house, which he tended to every morning. The garden contained various colorful and sweet-smelling flowers. Standing outside to enjoy the breeze, I closed my eyes and inhaled heavily-scented air.

Eric! Will you stop daydreaming and hop in the car now? Or would you prefer trekking all the way to school so you can have more time to admire the flowers and plants all the way? Mum called from the driveway.

Not in the mood to walk several miles, I ran the rest of the way to Mum's brand-new Camry. It was a bonus from her job in appreciation of her hard work and commitment.

I entered the car and sat in the backseat. Jennifer was already seated smugly in front with Mum. The front seat beside Mum had once upon a time been a constant bone of contention between Jennifer and me as we often fought over who would occupy that seat, but that was years ago. I had outgrown it now.

Mum zoomed off into the highway. Turning on the radio, Mum tuned into a station where issues on the stock market were being perused. Although I found it somewhat boring, I knew I had to fake being interested in order not to incur Mum's wrath. She mandated it for us to listen to the news. I occupied myself by silently counting the number of times they had mentioned Sweden's foremost stock exchange, the Stockholm Stock Exchange, which was, of course, Mum's workplace.

At school, she dropped off Jennifer and me and zoomed off after kissing us on the cheek. Jennifer and I went our separate ways after throwing a few more jibes at each other. Jennifer was a junior while I was a sophomore.

It was a Thursday, so school was going to be extraordinarily boring as almost everyone couldn't wait for the weekend to start. Walking along the corridor, I could see that everyone had a bored look on their faces except for a few who still retained the excitement and enthusiasm we had resumed the term with.

My school, Mobila High, was one that consisted of different characters, from the google-eyed nerds to the rosary-donning religious fanatics and the not-so-cool elements like the punks and bullies. As I headed straight to my classroom, I exchanged pleasantries with more than a couple of them in the corridor

About a few feet away from the classroom, a canned bottle came flying out of nowhere in my direction. I dodged it before it could hit my head and it rebounded on the wall before it fell to the floor with a clattering noise. I knew the one responsible; just one person in the school would greet me by throwing stuff at me.

Man, why look so sad? This is a school, not a funeral, you know, that one person said.

I walked on without looking back as I replied to him. Well, I kinda find that hard to believe with the amount of homework and projects they pile on us every day.

My companion, Alex, put a hand on my shoulder as we maneuvered our way through the throng of bustling students towards our classroom. Alex was an Afro-American who had been my best pal since juniors.

See that bird? he said, turning back to look at a girl who I suspected was a senior. He had a thing for older women and this had often put him in a whole lot of trouble.

Don't even look at that girl. She's trouble, a voice offered some unsolicited advice as we entered the classroom.

Jake, stop sneaking up on us like that, I said, irritated. Jake was an awkward boy who had stuck with Alex and me like a leech. His big glasses and mousy-colored hair gave him a nerdy look, which was one main reason why I didn't want him to be seen as my friend.

We all entered the classroom and sat in the back seats as it was our practice. The front seats were for the nerds while the backseats were for the cool guys.

Classes went on and on, as usual, that day and I almost died of boredom. Alex and I