THE MAFIA'S EXECUTIONER [√Complete]

IV

[LISA]

I'm always on guard when talking with Jennie. I made her think it was more adventure less killing, but the truth was that we'd been in a war for years, one that none of us knew how to navigate.

And it wasn't one that made sense.

Because it was a war within our Family.

Too dangerous to live.

I clung to Jennie as she slept in my arms, and then kissed her forehead and slowly crawled out of bed. I made my way downstairs and I was surprised to see my dad sitting on the couch.

With a sigh, I moved to stand in front of him. "Dad? When did you get here?"

"Not long." He sighed, and then looked up at me. "I would have ended every f*cking person in this godforsaken world to get you free of this life, but of course, I was cursed with a younger version of myself, wasn't I?"

I smirked. "Did you just call your beloved daughter a curse?"

He groaned.

"I won't tell the others." I uncrossed my arms and then moved to sit next to him on the couch. "Why are you really here?"

"I need my best," he said with a hint of sadness. "And the others don't have the stomach for it yet since our family made a pact to protect them as much as possible."

I sighed as heaviness washed over me. "Zion already down there?"

"Yeah." He didn't look at me.

"I'm not the only apple who fell directly off the tree into madness." I agreed. "Can Ian watch the house while I go in?"

"Already on it." My dad waved a hand behind him as Ian made his way stealthily into the living room, gun raised. "Give us a few minutes, Ian, try not to scare the shit out of Jennie if she wakes up."

Ian rolled his eyes. "I'll do my best."

"Well-" I held out my hand while my dad put the knife in my palm. "-let's get this over with."

My dad snorted. "Yeah, yeah, you have fun, remember, I didn't see anything... I'm clean now that I'm in politics."

Ian burst out laughing behind us.

It was rare to hear him laugh.

I gave my dad a yeah right look and then grabbed the gun from him as well. "Go back to bed, you know I've got this."

My dad put his hand on my shoulder and then gripped it, pulling me in for a tight hug. "I'm proud of you."

My throat almost closed up. All I'd ever wanted was to be like him, and all he'd ever wanted was for me to run away.

We don't always get what we want.

But I did, in this life, I did. Because when I looked in the mirror, I saw him and mom in me, and I was proud to be his daughter.

"Thanks, Dad." I hugged him back. "I'll be quick."

With a sigh I walked around the house, the suits all gave me a wide berth, they knew what I looked like when I was given a job.

Complete focus.

Lethal.

I made it to the side of the house, typed in the code for the metal door, and waited for it to click open.

There were twenty-two stairs leading down to our dungeons.

Really, they were just bulletproof, soundproof, rooms with drains for all the rivers of blood. It was like a playroom for assassins.

My dad had taken me down there when I was ten.

And at twelve, he gave me a choice.

Run or shoot.

I didn't run.

"Zion" I nodded to my brother, who was flicking a knife with his fingertip and then Rosé, who looked like she was just getting ready to sneak out to a club. "Rosé."

"Stop looking at me like that, I'm wearing leather, hardly a crime." She snorted.

Zion gulped and averted his eyes. When I looked closely, I could see the smudge of lipstick on his neck.

Interesting.

Zion never looked unsettled. He and Rosé were the oldest, which meant I looked to them for calm, and right now, they looked caught.

Ignoring it for now, I peeled off my t-shirt and handed it to her. "Even so, put this on before anyone sees you."

Zion sighed like he was relieved, and I didn't miss the way his jaw tensed when his eyes flickered back to mine.

Well shit. Didn't see that coming.

We would have words about this later.

Because that was the one rule our uncles gave us growing up.

Fight, kill, bleed, destroy-but never, ever, look at any of the uncles' kids in any way other than like your own brother or sister.

The penalty was death.

And they were fucking serious.

"Let's go." I tossed the knife in the air and walked into the first room. He was tied to a chair. Axel Alston, one of my cousins who I grew up with.

He was twenty.

He wanted to be a doctor. Out of the family's league.

Well, there was only one way out.

I stared him down. "This is what you want? Really?"

He glared. "Is there any other option?"

"Not really, no."

"Just make it look real," he grumbled. "And hopefully, I'll pass out sooner rather than later from blood loss."

I cursed. "Axel, you could just do a few jobs here and there, go to school, and then report back, it doesn't have to be all or nothing."

"I want to save lives, not take them." His stupid ass answer.

"Great, so now I get to rough up my own flesh and blood all because you think you're better than this?" I spread my arms wide. "None of us are better than this, this is your blood, Axel, your life. Once this is done, you're out of this Family, forever. You get that, right? And not because we shun you, but because you fucking die!"

I wasn't sure why I was trying to change his mind.

Maybe because he thought he'd be free.

Maybe because he believed the lie that we told the kids-that if they wanted out, all they had to do was deal with me. But he knew better. He was my friend. I could see it in the way he refused to look at me. His eyes were glassy. He was done. And he'd decided.

Axel shrugged and looked forward. "I hate this family. The death. The blood. I want out."

Maybe I had an ounce of kindness left in me because I didn't shoot him in the head first. I shot him in both legs, then I shoot into his right bicep, so his arm dangled at his side. He screamed out in pain.

And then I unleashed my knife stabbing him in the back over and over again, nothing deep, it would burn like hell, and it would triple his blood loss.

His head fell forward. "Still want out?"

"Go to hell!" he roared.

"See you there," I answered, emptying my gun into his chest.

I looked away as the last bit of life left his body.

And started to shake when Zion walked in and handed me the Bible. Rosé's demeanor was calm as she recited our Oath over him and blessed him as his soul left this earth.

"Blood in. No out." She whispered.

"Blood in." We repeated. "No out."