When a young girl's parents are stripped of life from the Russian Mafia, seeking vengeance, Camilla Martinez turns to the only man who can help avenge the death of her parents, Luciano Moretti.
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𝐒𝐀𝐍 𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐎, 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐀 July 20th 9:30 pm Camilla's pov ~
After celebrating my eighteenth birthday with friends and family, the night finally begins to wind down. With a smile stretching from ear to ear, I push myself up the massive staircase of my home. I couldn't think of a better way this day could have gone. It was absolutely perfect.
Unbeknownst to me the forthcomings lurking in the shadows of evilness.
As I enter the threshold of my room, the echoes of pounding fists against our front door sound throughout the house.
Inhaling deeply, I shout, "¡Papá! ¡Alguien está en la puerta!" (Dad! Someone is at the door!")
With exhaustion coursing through every part of my being, I plop down on my bed letting out a sigh of sleepiness. All I know is a warm shower and clean clothes are just calling my name.
Finally finding the courage to get in the shower, I roll off the bed letting my arms slouch a bit. I begin to strip myself of the beautiful dress I wore. Starting with the zipper that sat on the right side of the dress, I drag it down it's corse instantly loosening its grip. I let the skin tight material drop to my ankles before completely stepping out of its hold. The dress itself was quite simple, yet it had its touch of elegance. With it's material consisting of a white silk draping–that stoped just below my knees– I paired the dress with a nice pair of white criss-cross heels.
As I exit my bathroom, I am startled by blaring of guns sounding throughout the home. I hear the pleading cries of my mother asking the person responsible for this chaos to stop. And after a while the shooting does stop, but I'm on a mission to make sure my parents are okay.
Without hesitation, I slip on a pair of black jogging pants and plain white shirt. I begin to rummage through my closet for a fitting pair of running shoes just in case this goes left. Slowly I begin to walk towards the door making sure to keep any sounds from my movement at a minimum.
I hear a booming voice interrogating my parents. Slowly creeping out of my room, I make my way over to the top of the stairs. I peak over the railing, baffled at the sight before me. My mother and father, kneeling before a man holding them at gun point. Dead bodies lying in pools of blood, sprawled across the now ruined marble floors. Shattered glass ceased the floors, as the man shuffled through it carefully to get closer to my Father.
"Where is the Key, Javier?" His voice dripped heavily with a Russian accent. My father simply looked at him, giving him not even the slightest hint as to where this so called key is. Deep down I just prayed papá would just give in and tell him where this key was.
