Betrayal

~Reina~

 I stared at her, trying to grasp her words. She was a stranger, yet there was a familiarity in her voice, a desperate warmth I couldn't ignore. Her face remained blurred, like a figure in a dream you're trying to hold on to.

'I gave birth to her...' she repeated, her voice cracking. There was raw pain in her words, and a bitterness that twisted them. 'They forced us to hand her over. If we hadn't, we'd all be dead by now.'

A chill ran down my spine. She was talking about me, wasn't she? I didn't want to believe it, but every syllable she spoke felt like another piece falling into place. I tried to speak, to ask her who she was, why she'd abandoned me to this...life. But the words caught in my throat, and all I could do was watch her fade back into the shadows of my past."

"Yes, she's our weapon now and your death. Kill them"

They shoved the knife into my hand, its cold, unforgiving weight settled into my little trembling fingers. Tears blurred my vision, but I felt their eyes on me- waiting, daring me to hesitate. I looked down at the knife, the blade gleaming, and felt a sick, twisting sensation in my stomach. My body was shaking, but the grip on my shoulder was firm, urging me forward. As my hand moved, as the blade found its mark again and again, a quiet scream built inside me, swelling with each tear shed. 

I stabbed blindly, pain and shame flooding my chest, each time more desperate, each time hoping the pain would numb, but it only grew sharper. My body moved on its own, trapped between the sharp edge and the silent threat behind me. I didn't want to look at them, at their faces or their pleading eyes. I didn't want to think about who they were to me or why they have to die. I was their weapon just like they had made me so every piece of humanity left in me was torn away and lost forever.

"I jolted awake, panting, drenched in cold sweat. My heart raced, pounding against my chest as I stared at the ceiling, trying to shake off the nightmare's grip. That same horrible scene replayed every night, each time more vivid, more unbearable. I couldn't take it any more.

Pulling myself out of bed, I stumbled over to the balcony, hoping the fresh air might clear my head. But as I stepped outside, the nightmare refused to fade. The sharp smell of smoke filled the air, and distant shouts pierced the night. I froze, gripping the railing as my eyes adjusted to the dark-and then I saw them. Shadows moving swiftly, weapons drawn, figures darting between buildings.

We were under attack 

Adrenaline jolted through me, erasing every trace of sleep. I glanced back inside, heart thundering, searching for any sign of help or escape. There was no time to think, no time to prepare. The nightmare wasn't just a dream any more-it was here, unfolding in the shadows right before me."

Fuck.

"I stumbled back inside, my mind racing as I scanned the room for anything I could use. My eyes fell on the pistols, gleaming dully on the table. I grabbed them, feeling the solid weight settle into my hands, one after the other. My fingers wrapped tightly around the cold metal, a strange sense of power surging through me.

All the fear and horror from the nightmare faded, replaced by something sharper, darker. I took a steadying breath, feeling the familiar rush as I stepped back out onto the balcony. The shadows were moving closer, their silhouettes cutting through the night, unaware of what awaited them.

A smile crept onto my face. I wasn't the hunted any more.

'This is going to be fun,' I whispered, raising the pistols, ready to make them regret ever coming here.

"I limped, each movement a jagged reminder of my injury, as I pressed myself against the wall behind the door. I forced myself to be still, breathing shallowly, waiting for the right moment. The shadows moved past me, oblivious to the figure lurking in the dark.

Once I was sure they'd moved on, I stepped out, raising the pistols and squeezing the triggers in quick succession. Muzzle flashes lit up the hallway, and the silence shattered, filled with the sharp crack of gunfire. Bullets tore through the air, and the only sounds were the echo of shots and the metallic rain of empty casings scattering across the floor.

My leg throbbed with each step, but I pressed forward, ignoring the pain, fueled by a grim determination. The gunshots echoed off the walls, a rhythmic, relentless beat that drowned out everything else. I was in the zone, every instinct sharpened. In this moment, nothing else mattered but survival."

"Killing Mr. Luciano hadn't been my smartest move, but he needed a lesson-one he'd never forget, even if it cost him his life. You don't double-cross an assassin and walk away unscathed. The price he paid was high, and so was the toll on anyone foolish enough to come after me.

The night was a blur of gunfire and blood, and I didn't issue a single order to fall back until every last one of Luciano's avengers was dead. Bodies lay scattered around me, reminders of the war one betrayal had sparked. By the end, the air was thick with smoke and silence, and the message was clear: betrayals don't go unanswered, not in my line of work."

"Many saw me as a ruthless leader, but I didn't care. Anyone who dared question me paid the price with their life. After the brutal war between our gang and the Mafia, I turned to find my own people staring back at me, their faces twisted with anger and resentment."

"What's going-?" My words were cut short as I found myself staring down the barrels of their guns.

"Get out," Nico demanded, his voice cold and unwavering. "Leave now, or we'll end this right here."

"Leave? Why should I?" I shot back, eyes narrowing at Nico. "I'm the reason we've made it this far. Everything we have is because of me."

"And yet, half of us died today because of you!" Nico yelled, firing a shot into the air.

I chuckled darkly as an idea formed. I wouldn't beg for something I created.

"I'll return for all of your heads," I declared, a scoff escaping my lips. "I never issue empty threats."

"We'll be ready for you, killer," he said, locking his gaze onto mine.

With a smirk, I walked away and climbed into Luciano's car, setting my course for his mansion.

It was time to step into my power as a Donna.

I held the steering hard as pictures of the stingers, my family betrayed me. They committed a grave mistake and they knew it. I would kill all of them, I'll survive without them, I always survive. I will kill them all. Once a killer, always a killer.

I arrived at the Luciano's residence and parked the car. I took out the guards, fully aware they wouldn't let me pass. With my leg still healing, each step was a challenge, but I pushed through, driven by a fierce determination.

I managed to get into the mansion with my gun tucked in my hands. The house was beautiful, literally beautiful. The exterior design was blue with tints of white. In the middle of the house was a water fountain.

As I walked through the entrance, I was confronted by a portrait of his wife, tenderly embracing their children. The warmth of that image pierced through me, igniting memories of the life I once envisioned. It was a dream that felt painfully out of reach now. I tried to push those thoughts aside, but they lingered like ghosts in my mind, haunting me with what could have been.

What the fuck.

My head throbbed painfully, and the world around me began to blur. Before I could even blink, darkness enveloped me. I collapsed, surrendering to the void.

"I woke up in an unfamiliar room, lying on a king-sized bed beneath heavy, dark sheets. My head throbbed with a dull ache, but the sharp pang of unease jolted me fully awake. Beside me, perched on the edge of the bed, was a young woman. Her chestnut hair spilled over her shoulders, framing a face with soft, doe-brown eyes, full lips, and thick brows that gave her an intense, watchful look. She couldn't have been more than in her twenties, yet something about her gaze seemed older, knowing. I jerked upright, instinctively putting some distance between us, my pulse racing."

"'Welcome back, bitch,' she announced with a smirk, each word dripping with contempt. Her tone was sharp, unapologetic, like she'd been waiting for this moment. My stomach churned. She had to be Luciano's daughter. It figured-she had the same arrogant, self-assured look in her eyes, like the world was hers to play with. Another piece of garbage from that rotten family."

"You killed my father and waltzed into my home without a shred of respect. You deserve death." She said, her voice calm but laced with venom. "I'm Marilyn by the way and get well soon because you will be nothing but a memory-just like you made my father ." her smirk deepened, every word a twisted promise

She thinks she's a psycho. It's almost laughable. Whatever darkness she thinks she has, I'm ten steps deeper. She doesn't know who she's dealing with... but she will soon enough."

I pulled a pocket knife from my trouser and held it to her neck. A flicker of fear filled her eyes and that smirk wiped away quickly. Let her see who she is dealing with.

"Princess, I don't give a damn about your name,' I sneered, keeping the blade steady on her neck, the blade's edge just enough to make her feel its threat. 'and if I want, I can kill you right here, right now. You think you can scare me? I am not one of those idiots who bow to your kind-your father's kind. I do not take orders from faggots like you. Ask him what happens to those who try to treat me like a fool.' I paused , letting the silence hit in before adding a smirk, 'oh, that's right-he's dead. My bad."

I didn't care about her, or the tears that slid down her face like a weak attempt at guilt. The reality was simple: she was nothing more than a pawn, just like her father had been. My focus wasn't on her, it never was. It was about me, about making sure I stayed on top. I needed to be the one in control, the one calling the shots. And once I was there, no one would dare to challenge me-not her, not anyone. I'd get others to do the killing for me, make them dirty their hands while I watched from above, untouched. I was done being the one who had to dirty myself for anyone's game. It would be them on the front lines next, fighting my wars for me.

Her tears didn't faze me, and neither did the sobering silence between us. I wasn't here to console her or play her little mind games-I was here to remind her of her place, and show her that in the end, I was the one who controlled everything.

"'Lead me to your mother,' I said, my voice cold, cutting through the heavy silence. 'We've got a lot to discuss.'

Her eyes widened, flickering between the knife still pressed against her neck and my unflinching gaze. I could see the fear creeping up on her, trying to fight its way through the bravado she'd been clinging to. But I wasn't interested in her fragile pride-only in getting what I needed.

She swallowed hard, her lips trembling slightly before she nodded as quickly as she could, desperate to please, desperate to comply. Her nodding was frantic now, like she thought agreeing might somehow keep her alive longer. Without a word, she turned and started to move. Her steps were sharp, hurried, the sound of her shoes tapping against the floor almost like a signal-a warning-that she was being dragged along by forces she couldn't control.

I followed close behind, my gaze never leaving her back. The way she walked, the quickness in her pace-it all screamed of someone who had lost their grip on the situation. I relished it, knowing that for all her show of strength, she was just as weak as the rest of them. She'd thought she could intimidate me, make me fear her father's legacy, but now, she was just another pawn in my game. And I was moving closer to the prize.

Every step she took toward the next room was a step closer to her breaking point. I wasn't in a rush-I never was. I'd let her sweat it out. She could take me to her mother, but it wouldn't change the fact that I was the one in charge now. And when we got to wherever the hell she thought she was going, it would be on my terms. Not hers.

She led me to the first room on the ground floor, the house sprawling around us like some kind of fortress. Each step I took felt like another piece falling into place, another marker on the road to making this house mine. The grandeur of it all didn't faze me; I wasn't here to admire their wealth or their power. I was here to claim it. And I would. Soon, this place would bend to my will.

The woman opened the door, her hands shaking just slightly as she did, as if trying to hold on to some illusion of control. But I didn't care about her fear, nor the game she was playing. I was willing to let her go-at least for now-but I would be the one who decided when the rules changed.

Inside the room sat Mr. Luciano's wife, a woman whose calm presence didn't hide the strength lurking behind her. She wasn't like her daughter, all bluster and bravado; this woman was composed, calculating. She didn't flinch as I entered, just regarded me with a quiet intensity.

'Come, sit with me,' she said, her voice soft, almost soothing, but with an underlying command that didn't escape me. She knew exactly who I was-and what I was capable of.

I stayed standing for a moment, letting the silence hang between us. She wasn't going to control me. Not here. Not now. But I didn't make any immediate moves. I wanted to see how far she'd push. I was the one holding the power now, and it was time to remind her of that."

I let go of her daughter earning a punch in the face. I scoffed and wiped the blood off my busted lips and chuckled like the devil. I punched her back making her bust her lips and earning swollen cheek.

I grabbed her by her dress and was ready to punch her again.

"'Please stop,' she begged, her voice trembling, cracking as the words escaped her. 'She's my life. My princess.'

Her plea stopped me in my tracks, but only for a moment. I could hear the desperation in her voice, the weight of her words sinking in like a cold knife. For a brief second, I almost saw her as human-her vulnerability, her love for her daughter, everything that had once made her strong seemed to be crumbling before me. She was on the verge of tears, her face contorted in agony as she struggled to hold it together.

But I wasn't moved by her tears. I couldn't be. I was beyond that. I had learned a long time ago that people like her-people who thought they could manipulate through emotion-were nothing more than tools. She wasn't my concern. The game had changed, and there was no going back.

I took a deep breath, the silence between us thick with tension. I leaned in close, just inches from her face, my voice low and chilling. 'Your daughter is weak. She's nothing more than a pawn. And you, you're just like her.'

I could see the raw fear in her eyes now, the realization that her life, her daughter's life-everything she had fought for-was slipping through her fingers. She was powerless. She was scared. And in that moment, I felt nothing but a twisted satisfaction. She had tried to play me, but I was the one pulling the strings now. I wasn't going to stop until I had it all."

"Finally, now can we talk or else" I used my hands acting as a blade to cut myself.

"'First of all,' I said, my voice steady, cold as ice, 'your husband double-crossed me. And never, ever double-cross an assassin.' I let those words linger, knowing the weight of them. The silence stretched as I watched her try to process the reality she was facing. 'You'll pay for that. With your life.'

I smiled, almost savouring the look of fear that flashed across her face. It was the first sign of real emotion I'd seen from her, and it was a sign I was winning. I shifted in my seat, adjusting my position with deliberate ease, as though I were in full control of the situation. The power was mine now, and she needed to understand that.

'From now on,' I continued, my voice dropping lower, more commanding, 'I own the Luciano business. I'm the Donna here, and you'll obey me. Or you'll pay the consequences.'

Her breath caught, her eyes widening, and I could almost see the wheels turning in her head as she realized what that meant. Everything she thought she controlled-the empire, her position, her life-it was slipping from her fingers. But I wasn't offering her a choice. I wasn't asking for her submission. I was demanding it."

She didn't seem rattled, not in the slightest. The calm in her demeanour only made the tension thicker, like she'd already considered this move, knew what I was capable of, and was prepared to play her cards. Her eyes locked onto mine, steady and calculating, as if the truth had already settled in for her.

'The only way for that to happen,' she said, her voice unwavering, 'is for me to adopt you and sign everything under your name. It would take about three days.'

Her words were matter-of-fact, almost cold. She wasn't pleading or bargaining; instead, she was offering me a route to victory. She understood, just like I did, that this was no longer about negotiation. It was about survival. But what she didn't realize was that this gesture wasn't going to save her. It was simply her surrender wrapped in paperwork.

I studied her for a long moment, considering her words. Three days. A small price to pay for everything she had built. But it was more than that-it was her way of buying time. She thought she could hand over the reins and maintain some control, but she didn't see the trap closing in around her.

I leaned forward, the smile on my lips tight, almost mocking. 'Three days? How quaint,' I mused. 'You really think that's how long you have? You think I'm giving you a chance to set things right?' I paused, letting the weight of my words hang in the air. 'Once I sign those papers, you'll be irrelevant. Just like your husband.'

The quiet that followed was heavy with unspoken understanding. She might've thought she was still playing, but I knew better. The moment she made the offer, she was already conceding. I was the one in charge. And in three days, everything that mattered would be mine, including her life."

"Whatever it takes," I said, standing up, my eyes cold and unwavering. "And don't try me, or your daughter will pay."

I moved closer, making sure she understood the gravity of my words. I never gave empty threats-my actions spoke louder than anything I could say. If she pushed me, her daughter would suffer the consequences. There was no escaping that truth.

"There's something else," she announced, her voice steady but carrying a hint of urgency. The words sliced through the tension, and instantly, my attention snapped to her. My fingers loosened from the door knob, and I turned to face her fully, every sense alert.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, my tone sharp, demanding an answer.

"Go on," I said, sitting down, my eyes narrowing as I braced myself for whatever she was about to reveal. There was a flicker of something in her expression-maybe fear, maybe something more-but I was ready. I wasn't about to let her hold the upper hand.

She took a deep breath, gathering herself before continuing, "I'm not the only one who wants to control this house."

"When you take control of this house, you won't be the donna," she said, her voice trembling but defiant. "I'm..."

She paused, clearly calculating her next words, as if testing whether she should continue or fall silent. The tension in the room thickened, but I wasn't moved.

"I'm what?" I pressed, leaning forward, my patience already running dry and I wasn't about to waste any more time on her games.

I leaned forward, every inch of me oozing threat. "Either you tell me what I want to know, or I'll make you regret it."

"What in fucks name are you talking about? Lie and you die I always sense lies, trust me. Now talk" I ordered.