Carmen Cortez, 21, is not just your ordinary woman. She is someone who has made plentiful mistakes, but will do everything she can to fix them, even if that means becoming an assassin. Having ten older brothers and a twin sister, it's kind of hard t...
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The next day...
The basement was dimly lit, the only illumination coming from a single bare bulb swinging overhead. The metallic tang of blood hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the violence that had unfolded in this dark and desolate place.
As I stood before the men connected to Carmen's assault, my hands clenched into fists at my sides, my knuckles white with the strain. The urge to lash out, to unleash my fury upon them, burned like a raging inferno inside me.
"All you have to do is tell me where Dante is," I growled, my voice low and dangerous, barely containing the simmering rage that threatened to consume me. "I might even let you go. I'm sure he'll be happy to see you."
The men exchanged nervous glances, their faces pale and sweaty as they shifted uncomfortably in their chairs. They knew as well as I did that Dante was not a man to be trifled with, that his wrath was swift and merciless.
"Why do you even care? It was just some slut," one of them sneered, a cruel smirk twisting his lips.
This piece of shit.
I felt a surge of fury boiling up inside me, threatening to spill over at his callous words.
Without hesitation, I raised my gun, the cold steel pressing against his skin as I narrowed my eyes in silent warning.
Before he could react, I pulled the trigger, the gunshot echoing through the basement like a thunderclap. The man cried out in pain as blood blossomed from the wound, staining his shirt crimson.
"Tell me where Dante is," I demanded, my voice a low growl as I leaned in close, my eyes burning with an intensity that sent shivers down their spines.
But even as the fear danced in their eyes, I knew that they wouldn't break easily. Dante had trained them well, instilling in them a loyalty that ran deeper than fear.
As I stood there, surrounded by the stench of blood and desperation, I couldn't help but wonder if I was any better than the men I was interrogating. If the lines between right and wrong had blurred beyond recognition, leaving me adrift in a sea of darkness with no hope of finding my way back to the light.
Giovanni walked down the stairs into the dimly lit basement, his footsteps echoing off the cold concrete walls. His sharp gaze swept over the scene before him, taking in the blood-stained floor and the men sitting bound and battered in their chairs.
"Any luck?" he said, his voice low and gravelly, betraying none of the emotions swirling beneath the surface.
I glanced up at him, my own expression hardened with determination. "This one knows where Dante is," I said, nodding towards the man who had just confessed.
Giovanni's eyes narrowed, his lips curling into a predatory grin. "And him?" he asked, pointing to the other man who still remained stubbornly silent.
I felt a surge of frustration bubbling up inside me, my patience wearing thin with each passing moment. "I'm losing my patience with him. You wanna handle it?" I asked, my voice tight with barely restrained anger.
