Brinda

Feeling a series of hard rhythmic taps on my cheeks and Francesco's deep male voice that instructed, “Wake up,” I struggled before my eyes flipped open after some seconds. “I wonder how someone could be this useless. You've had enough sleep. Time to work, damsel.”

My body jerked forward, my arms flew in the air and my hair came falling covering my face in the process. I tapped my forehead for some time then I raised my head only to meet Francesco with a smirking expression.

All what he did yesterday came running in my head. I just wanted to stand and point a gun at his head but who am I?

A suppressed lady with no choice.

The only way I can free myself from him is to achieve his goals then also help him to bury the secrets he intends to. Hold on! What are his secrets?

That's exactly where I'm supposed to start thinking from. Francesco wants me to work for him but I don't know the type of errands I will be running for him.

“Are you deaf or are you trying to let me yell on purpose?” He thundered angrily and I was forced to bow my head. “Get up!” He shouted.

I stood from where I sat, realizing it was a mattress and I was dressed in a pink night dress which had my inner thighs nearly visible.

“Who changed my clothes?” I asked, concerned about my safety.

“Who do you think can do that except me?” He said without thinking.

He couldn't have done anything, right?

If he did, I would have known. Though there won't be blood stains since I gave my virginity to Peter. Perfect punishment for Francesco, I would just wait for the time he finds out.

Houses and people spread like grains of rice on the ground as I gazed down from the window of… A jet? Yes, it is. A private one.

“Where are we going?” I asked, returning my head to face Francesco.

“Be a patient dog and obey your master,” he replied coldly. “And be cautious of who you're talking to. I'm not the Francesco you once knew. That part of me is dead.”

I laughed as I held onto my stomach. “That's why you killed my mother and Peter, right?”

He tucked his hands into his pocket and sighed deeply before his face darkened. Fear gripped my soul and I stepped backward with my hands clutching to the hem of my dress.

“They deserve to die. Everyone around you deserves to die except me because I have to watch you suffer while I inflict pain on you.”

“For how long will you do that?” I asked, then he slowly made his way to my side.

My movement was stopped when my back hit the door behind me. I inhaled deeply.

“I have rules,” he said, holding my right hand tightly. “And you must obey them if you don't wanna lose your right as my property because that is what you're now.”

I shook my head, not understanding what he meant.

He smiled again, his voice cold and calculating. "Here are the rules you need to follow. First, you must answer every question I ask. Never say 'I don't know.' Second, when I call, you must respond immediately—no hesitation. Third, you will not look at me unless I allow it. And finally, you will do the tasks I assigned to you, without hesitation or refusal. Disobedience will come with consequences."

“Is he some kind of Messiah? Grumpy human!” I thought.

“Yes. Yes, I do.” I replied with my eyes fixed on him though I knew he stated those rules for himself and not me.

He brought his face closer to mine. I shifted my gaze trying to avoid his eye contact, given how close we were. “And the most important thing is, you will be doing a lot of dirty jobs for me. But for now… Watch me!”

He ordered me to have my bath and I obliged. A few minutes later, I came back, dressed in a long yellow gown he prepared for me.

As I looked through the mirror earlier, I was frustrated. I don't wear long clothes. Even if I wore one, at least not this long.

“You are looking beautiful. Come sit on my lap.” He commanded as he sipped his wine. I let his words fall behind my ears while I sat on the chair opposite him. “I won't appreciate your stubbornness.” He smirked.

“Whatever!” I snapped.

“I’m in a good mood today,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “So, I will let you off but next time you disobey me… I will make you pay in the best possible way.” He said coldly and silence followed.

When we finally arrived at our destination, we climbed down from the jet to the gentle evening breeze that blew my hair slightly. I took in the environment, seeing as it has a familiar sight.

“What are we doing here?” I whispered, curiosity bathing me.

He raised his eyebrow before he flashed a naughty smile. “Relax, damsel. We are here for work.” He told me but I did not buy it.

Then, a Range Rover accompanied by a variety of black cars arrived and we boarded it. A man, cladded in a black suit, sat in the backseat and Francesco joined him while I sat in the front seat.

Finally, the middle-aged driver pulled up in front of a mansion which reeked of money but with the look of things and my expertise in the dark world, I understood that the money was not a holy one.

There are some secrets behind the scenes.

Two men rushed to my side and opened the door. I winced at them before I refused their help and exited the vehicle myself as gently as I could making sure I didn't trip because of the compulsory heels I'm wearing all thanks to Francesco.

I waited for about ten minutes before Francesco alighted from the car. “Let's go,” he commanded his men as he moved into the building like an agile predator.

The cars, including the one I and Francesco boarded all zoomed away. I looked left and right. Realizing I was all alone in the middle of nowhere, my heart skipped a bit.

What am I waiting for?

I ran after them with my mind full of the consequences that may follow my wrong decision.

$Chapter

Brinda

Stepping into the expansive living room of the mansion, my breath hitched. The space oozed luxury — everything in sight screamed money, from the opulent furniture to the gleaming marble floors.

A part of me couldn’t help but envy the grandeur of this place. What would it have been like to live here? I wondered bitterly.

I cursed my parents under my breath, the frustration of my past life bubbling up once again. But before I could dive deeper into those thoughts, I heard noises coming from upstairs. Curiosity pricked at my senses, urging me to find the source.

I hurried up the staircase, following the sounds, and soon I found myself standing outside a door that creaked open, revealing a scene that made my stomach twist.

Inside, a man with a bulging belly knelt close to a plush chair, surrounded by three women — prostitutes by the look of them — also kneeling on the floor.

Francesco stood by the door, flanked by his men, his presence as commanding as ever. His gaze was sharp, full of silent judgment.

“Purab Chaturvedi,” Francesco's voice rang out, cutting through the thick silence of the room. He casually sat on the sofa opposite the man, his posture relaxed but his eyes hard.

“Yes?” Purab stammered, visibly unnerved. His Indian accent, not betraying him.

“You know I don’t like wasting my time,” Francesco continued, his voice chilling as it rose slightly in tone. “Tell me who your leader is.”

Purab’s demeanor shifted suddenly, as if an unseen switch had been flipped. He stood up, clapping his hands together in a mock display of bravado.

Francesco’s men moved forward instinctively, but Francesco raised a hand, signaling them to stop.

“Who are you to control me?” Purab sneered, his swollen belly shaking with the movement. “I’ve been in this business long before you were even born.”

Francesco’s lips curled into a smile — one of those smiles that never failed to send a shiver down my spine. It was the kind of smile that spoke of things far darker than mere mockery. “Don’t mistake my patience for kindness, Purab,” he said, his voice low, full of menace. “Tell me who your leader is, and I’ll spare your life.”

Purab, tall and huge, marched towards Francesco and slapped him hard. Really hard. I raised my hands to shield my eardrums from the deafening sound while the ladies cried.

I couldn't help but feel pity for Francesco. The slap was the loudest I've heard in my entire life.

“Who gave you the power to threaten me? Your father who did that the last time is already dead. He is fucking dead.” Purab’s laughter was infectious, filling the room with joy.

Francesco’s temper flared, ignited by Purab's taunts. He grabbed his neck and pushed him till he reached the bed stand and because of his weight, he dropped to the bed which after Francesco climbed on top and punched him severally till blood dripped out of his mouth.

When Francesco climbed down, it was then I saw he had an iron bracelet in his hand. He looked at me for the first time. “Did you see that?” He asked, breathing profusely. “I will do the same to you if you don't follow my rules. My world, my rules.”

“Are you talking to me or someone else?” I asked before I rushed to where Purab was, almost lifeless.

If Francesco came after Purab, it means that he is Francesco's enemy or he is an associate to Francesco's enemy.

What does Francesco want from him?

I concluded sharply that with the look of things, he wouldn't let the man die since he needs the man to reveal who his boss is.

But I thought wrong, really wrong.

One of Francesco's men who were close to where he stood, threw a pistol to him and within a twinkle of an eye, Francesco shot the ladies.

I was forced to yell, “Francesco. Why? They did nothing.” I rushed closer to the bed stand where their bodies were laid. “You are cruel.” I tried wiping the blood stains from my hand but they remained there.

“Wait till you see how cruel I am.” He said and in a swift move to the left, he shot Purab thrice — Head, left chest and stomach.

The blood spilled on my face which resulted in me closing my eyes.

The same life I never wanted is coming back and I have killed more than enough. I have caused the death of different heads of families. I have sown the seed of sorrow in many households. To this day, a lot of families are still grieving because of my actions.

But that's in the past, not anymore.

“Get rid of the body. There shouldn’t be a trace left.” Francesco’s voice was cold and commanding as he turned and exited the room without a second glance. “And someone, drag that weeping woman out too.”

Two of his men approached and roughly hauled me out of the room. The air felt heavy as they led me through the building, and by the time we stepped outside, three black cars were lined up, their headlights cutting through the night.

I was shoved into the back of the car that Francesco had entered.

I could feel the anger simmering beneath my skin, my frustration with him growing with every passing second. The blood stains on my clothes, a reminder of the violence I'd just witnessed, made my stomach churn.

I turned my gaze to the window, hoping to lose myself in the night view of Vietnam, trying to clear my mind.

As the car sped through the streets, my thoughts were a jumbled mess. We were heading somewhere, but where? The uncertainty gnawed at me.

As we neared the airport, Francesco reached for a bag and began pulling off his clothes. I quickly turned away, not wanting to be subjected to the sight of his pitiful physique.

“What are you waiting for?” His voice cut through the cold air like a blade. I couldn’t believe this was the same man I once fell in love with.

I glanced back at him, my eyes narrowing as he handed me some clothes. I held his gaze for a moment, but he avoided it, his focus shifting to the driver. I snatched the clothes from his hand, my fingers trembling with frustration, and hurriedly changed.

Just as I finished, the car jerked to a sudden stop, sending me lurching forward and crashing my head into the driver’s seat.

“Can’t you drive properly?” I shouted, my hands frantically tugging at my hair as I tried to straighten it.

The door swung open, and in stepped a woman dressed in tight black jeans, a black blouse, and a matching cap.

Her presence was enough to send a chill through the air, her aura as cold and intimidating as her outfit. Without a word, Francesco shoved me aside, making room for her as though I didn’t even matter.

“Brinda, meet Bullet,” he said nonchalantly, his tone laced with sarcasm. “Bullet, this is the stubborn lady beside me, Brinda.” I chose to look away, my lips pressed tight, refusing to acknowledge her grin.

“B and B,” Francesco added with mock enthusiasm. “What a perfect combination.” Turning to Bullet, he asked, “Was the mission successful?”

$Chapter

Brinda

“The mission was smooth, Boss." Bullet's voice was flat, yet her eyes glinted with an edge that made me wonder just how much of her soul was buried under the mask she wore.

Francesco’s gaze didn’t leave her, his eyes cold and calculating. “And you ensured all the evidence was cleared?" he asked again.

The tension in the air was palpable. Bullet didn’t respond verbally, but I could feel the answer in the silence. She nodded.

Francesco's grip on my hand tightened, his fingers digging into my skin as I fought to free myself.

“Whether you want it or not, Bullet is your partner now. She’ll be by your side on all operations. Your mission begins once we touch down in New York.” His words were sharp, as though he’d already decided my fate.

I pretended not to hear him, staring out the jet window, the cold wind biting at my resolve. The minutes dragged on, stretching into what felt like hours. I was trapped. There was no escaping the web Francesco had spun around me.

Soon, we were at the airport. I was yanked from my seat and pulled, not toward Francesco, but to the back of the jet.

The cold hands of his men guided me into a separate section, forcing me to sit apart. They shut the door with a finality that made my blood boil.

The muffled sounds that followed made my stomach turn — low moans from behind that closed door.

Francesco had locked himself in with Bullet, his toy, while I was left outside, helpless and burning with jealousy, fury, and something darker.

I tried to block out the noises, but sleep eventually claimed me. Exhaustion took over after hours of forced stillness.

When the night began to fall, Francesco called for me. I walked into his room, my every step filled with dread. He sat there, sprawled out as though the weight of the world couldn’t touch him. His posture screamed dominance.

"Sit," he commanded sharply, his voice carrying an icy authority that left no room for defiance. I hesitated, but only for a second, before I took my place opposite him, my gaze cold and distant.

“Purab Chaturvedi,” he said, breaking the silence, his tone casual but deliberate.

I looked away, pretending to be uninterested, but the name struck a chord. It felt like a puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit, and I hated how much I wanted to know what they shared.

“Purab Chaturvedi runs a media empire and has deep ties in the oil business,” Francesco continued, his voice colder now, with a hint of contempt. “Two years ago, he struck a deal with my father, but there’s more to that deal than what meets the eye. People like him aren’t to be trusted.”

"Why are you telling me all this? I didn’t ask," I shot back, my eyes narrowing as I met his gaze.

Francesco ignored my defiance. He picked up his glass, swirling the wine before taking a slow sip. The smoke from his cigarette filled the air like a cloud of menace, his every movement deliberate.

I couldn’t help but notice how much he smoked, his health slowly deteriorating with each drag. It was only a matter of time before it killed him — and I’d be there when it happened.

He leaned back, crossing his legs, his expression unreadable. “This is for your mission. You’ll need to set fire to the rain.”

“What mission? What fire? I’m not running errands for you,” I fired back, unable to contain my irritation.

He leaned forward, his eyes locking onto mine, the air around us suddenly feeling colder. “You will. And you will die if you don’t listen. Remember, Deadly Nightshade runs through your veins.”

His words hit me like a physical blow. The threat was real. I sighed deeply, the weight of his ultimatum pressing on me. “And what exactly is this mission?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Francesco stood, his tall figure casting a shadow over me as he moved toward the balcony. “Retrieve the crypt key,” he said, his words sharp like the edge of a blade.

I frowned, confused. “Crypt key? What is that?”

“You don’t need to know the details,” he replied, his voice devoid of warmth. “Just do as I say. No questions, no attitude.”

"Where is it?" I pressed, my impatience showing.

“The Fernandez family,” he said, his words dripping with disdain. “They’re my family’s greatest enemies. Their leader died recently, and now, it’s the perfect time to strike. The hideout’s location will be shared with you.”

I shook my head in disbelief. "How am I supposed to carry out this mission if you won’t tell me anything?"

Francesco’s gaze sharpened, and he raised an eyebrow. “You were once a spy. You know how to connect the dots. Do your job.”

With that, he walked away, disappearing into the bathroom and leaving me standing there, lost in a swirl of questions.

I couldn’t help but wonder — what had I gotten myself into? Purab Chaturvedi, Francesco, the Dante family, the Fernandez family... the pieces didn’t fit together, not yet.

I made my way to my room, where a well-packaged box awaited me. I opened it slowly, unsure of what to expect. Inside was a black suit, pistols, and a phone. The phone buzzed with a message.

Francesco: Ensure you set a lock screen password. Through this phone, I’ll know if things go wrong.

I tossed the phone aside, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on me.

I didn’t want to do this, but if it was the only way out, I’d do whatever it took.

After slipping into the black outfit, I covered my face with the mask Francesco had provided. My hair was pulled back tightly, and the pistols were tucked into my sides. The phone slipped into my breast pocket, the screen set to silent.

As I stared at my reflection, memories from the past flooded my mind. This was too familiar. The sleek black costume, the weapons, the mask — it was all too much like my old life.

The clock struck midnight.

I moved quickly, making my way down the silent corridors. The house was eerily quiet, and I quickened my pace. When I reached the door, I heard footsteps behind me — footsteps that didn’t belong to Francesco or his men.

I turned to find Bullet standing there, her eyes sharp and calculating, like a predator preparing to pounce.

"What do you want?" I snapped.

She ignored my question, rolling her eyes before walking past me. "Boss doesn't trust you. From now on, we’re partners on missions."

With that, she entered a black car parked outside, and I followed her. The driver, covered in tattoos and with his hair braided, gave us a nod before taking off.

We reached our destination, a dark building nestled in the shadows of the night. Bullet and I stayed low, blending into the darkness, moving swiftly like shadows. We had a mission to complete.

We approached the building, two guards standing at the entrance. Bullet gave me a sharp look, then raised an eyebrow, echoing Francesco’s signature gesture.

“Stay here,” she whispered. “I’ll go around. We take them down together.”

"I’m ready," I replied, already feeling the thrill of the hunt rise within me.

With a clean swoop, the men were down.

I shot one in the head, while Bullet took a more brutal approach, slitting her target’s throat.

Bullet turned to me, her expression unreadable. “These people are more dangerous than you think. Now I understand why Boss doesn’t trust you.”

She moved towards the entrance. “As we go in, we have two choices: come out alive or get killed. Make your decision.”

I followed her into the building, every step taking us deeper into the unknown. The mission had begun.

$Chapter