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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Stepping out of the car, I was greeted by Giovanni's smooth voice, his charm as palpable as ever. "Carmen, looking beautiful as ever. What's this favor you need?" he said, flashing me a charming smile.
The thought of him with Camryn was daunting.
I returned his smile with a smirk of my own, relishing in the power I held over him in this moment. "Oh, Giovanni, you always know just what to say," I replied, my tone dripping with sarcasm.
As Giovanni's gaze fell upon the figure in the trunk, his expression shifted from amusement to curiosity. "Who's this?" he asked, his brow furrowing with concern.
I approached him with purpose, my steps deliberate as I explained the situation with cold detachment. "This, my dear Giovanni, is Detective Johnson," I said, gesturing towards the trembling man cowering in the trunk.
Giovanni's eyes widened in surprise, his features hardening with resolve as he took in the scene before him. "And what, pray tell, has he done to deserve such treatment?" he asked, his voice tinged with a dangerous edge.
I leaned in close, my voice a low, menacing whisper as I revealed the depths of Detective Johnson's depravity. "He's the man who framed Alex for operating Dante's work," I said, my words dripping with venom. "And that's just the beginning."
As I recounted the horrors I had endured at Detective Johnson's hands – the rape, the betrayal, the involvement in Dante's sex trafficking ring – Giovanni's expression darkened with fury, his jaw clenched in righteous anger.
"Let's make him pay," Giovanni said, his voice low and dangerous.
With a nod of agreement, I slammed the trunk shut and turned to lead the way, a sense of satisfaction coursing through me as I led Giovanni toward the warehouse where we would exact our revenge. ---------
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My mind wandered to where Carmen might be, her absence gnawing at my thoughts like a persistent itch. Detective Miller's voice cut through the haze of my thoughts, pulling me back to the stark reality of the interrogation room.
"Where's your girl, Del Rossi?" he prodded, his tone laced with a hint of mockery.
I leaned back in my chair, fixing him with a steely gaze. "How's your wife and son, Shawn?" I countered, my words laced with a subtle threat.
