La Mujer Mafiosa

IX: Lucienne

Oh fuck, my head was pounding as I slowly opened my eyes, well, eyes. I could feel the swell of my right eye, and I knew it was shut. The lights in the room were so bright, and my vision was blurry for a few seconds before cleaning. In the room, I saw four different faces.

I recognized two of them. One of them was my target, and the glare on his face was lethal. The eyes that held life yesterday had darkened today, the hazel green glinting with evil bitterness. Unfortunately, he was still alive, which means I missed him.

    The second one was the guy I gutted. He glared at me with so much hate while slightly hunched over. Looking at him made me smirk, even though it hurt like I bitch. Not only did I gut him, but I'd also managed to black his eyes, just like mine, and the bruises all over his jaw were extremely visible on his pale skin. If he looked like that, I could only imagine what I looked like, considering three men attacked me.

    The third person was the girl that came with the target. She looked perfectly fine. She wasn't even glaring at me. There was slight interest in her eyes that I decided to ignore. Now, the unfamiliar woman standing in front of me with a knife in her hand was my kind of person.

She had a crazy glint in her eyes as if she couldn't wait to bury the shiny part of her knife into my flesh. It's a shame we're enemies. We probably could've been good friends.

    "I'm disappointed," I started, licking my lips. They felt dry; I needed water or something. "You're not dead, which means I missed. I never miss," I scowled, my eyes circling back to the fucker that fucked up my shot. His eyes only narrowed more when I looked at him. I'll get you bitch.

    "Oh, trust me, you didn't miss," the man said, his voice dark and promising. I was slightly surprised. His accent sounded nothing like Patrick's. In fact, it was barely even there, as if Italian wasn't his first language or a language that he spoke regularly. It was very odd.

    I searched his body, looking for signs of where he might be injured, but he gave nothing away. I'll find out the moment he moves. Honestly, these people were quite boring. They were staring at me like I was some sort of lab experiment.

I went to adjust myself, to make myself more comfortable, when I froze, pain shooting through my wrists from the ropes digging into them, keeping me held hostage with my hands tied behind my back.

    "How the fuck did he hide you?" the guy said, his voice mainly a whisper. I assume he said it in English so everyone in the room could understand him. My eyes roamed the four, trying to figure out who in here couldn't speak Italian.

    "You guys are boring," I spoke, my voice more coarse than usual. I definitely need some water. "How about we introduce ourselves? I mean, we're gonna be here a while," I said lazily, allowing myself to fully relax in the chair the best I could.

They all looked at me like I'd grown another head or even threatened to kick their cat into the wall. "Names Lucienne Perez, you?" I waited patiently. We had all day. Plus, that's all they'll be getting from me.

    "You won't be alive that long, so I see no harm in it. Names Ana, that's Chiara, Marcio, and Santiago,"

    So, that's his name. Nice to know. I'll be back, Santiago. I have a job to finish. I nodded, taking it in, engraining their names with their faces so I'll always remember. These four will get it the worst; I'll ensure it. "So, are we all going to sit here and stare at each other, or are you gonna ask me some questions?"

    I was bored. They were boring me. I needed something to entertain me as I tried to find a way out of this place. They still said nothing. "Any of you got a mirror? I'd like to see how good they got me," I smirked, chuckling a little as Marcio growled at my statement. My amusement only angered him more as he stood straighter, flinching as he did so.

    The feeling of her knife, cold and sharp, pressing against my neck made me look at the one they called Chiara. She was glaring at me. "You think you're fucking funny?" she asked, her accent thick. That's what I imagined Santiago's accent to sound like. I wonder why it's basically nonexistent.

    "Yeah, I think I'm fucking hilarious," I responded, making her press her knife harder into my throat. My eyes twitched at the pain, but other than that, I held my ground. I was anything but scared.

    "Chiara, relax," Santiago spoke, straightening up. His eyes closed briefly as he did so, his hand going to his shoulder as he took a deep breath. Hurts like a bitch doesn't it. Haha. I couldn't stop the smile from rising on my face at his pain. I'm one sick fuck. "Who are you to Stan?" He asked, grabbing a chair and setting it before me to sit down.

    We were going to be here a while. I just stared at him, thinking about whether I wanted to answer him or not. He jutted to Chiara, and I looked at her. Her hands were twitching with the want to cut into me. She can do it all she wants. I won't be telling them shit unless it's information I want them to know. "Why the silence now?"

    "Don't really feel like talking about Stan, to be honest. I'm more interested in you," I said casually, craning my head to the side and looking at him. I watched his eyebrows furrow at my statement, confusion washing over him.

    "How is it that the leader of the Italian Mafia, the most respected and well-known Made Man of all criminals, is non-existent in the world? There's nothing. You don't exist. Do you lift a finger, or are your hands too fragile for that, so you need henchmen to ensure you don't break a nail?" I questioned.

With that one question, I struck a nerve. I watched the two women tense, and Marcio took a step forward. Santiago's eyes darkened as they narrowed. I was sure he would've shot me right then and there if he could.

    He held his hand up to stop Marcio from doing whatever he thought about. I watched Santiago lean forward, folding his hands together in front of him. His narrowed eyes stayed trained on me, and any traces of anger were gone.

He had a good poker face. "I was under the impression that was your job. I mean, you do hide behind men. If your little friend, Kida, hadn't slipped up, I would've assumed you were a guy. I would've never taken you seriously," he said.

    I had to stop myself from clenching my jaw, mostly because I didn't want to feel that pain but also to stop myself from showing him I didn't like his words. "Tell me, Lucienne," The venom that dripped from his voice when he said my name sent shivers down my spine. How cute; he despises me. Good.

"How is it that someone of your caliber is taking orders from an old cunt like Stan? Just like a good dog, too. I mean, you showed up with Ian Rakill just to make Stan get what he wanted. Risked your life even. What? Tryna make Daddy proud? Is that it?"

    Daddy? I let out a laugh and immediately regretted it when pain shot through my stomach. Fuck I was kicked hard. I sighed in amusement while staring at the man in front of me. "Daddy? Please, that old fuck is not my father," I said calmly, not revealing anything.

I have no father; I'm an orphan. I was given up when I was seven, all so Daddy could pay his debts. The crazy thing is he never looked back. Never even tried to come to save me and Nick.

    "So, who are you to him?"

    "Just another humble servant," I said. It was the truth. There was nothing more to it. "He calls, I come. He gives me a name, and I erase them. You wouldn't be standing here if we'd done things my way, but to each its own, I guess," I shrugged.

    "Meaning?"

    "Can I have some water? I'm parched," I said, licking my dry lips and watching Santiago's eyes catch the movement. "Maybe then I'll tell you what you want to know,"

    "Or...." he stated, looking at Chiara, who stepped forward, bringing her knife to my arm. She pressed it against my shoulder, the pain making my jaw clench. She was waiting on Santiago's command. The thing was, he wasn't going to get shit out of me.

    "Tell her to do her worst," I said, staring at him. The tension in the room was suffocating as Santiago and I had a stare-off. Neither of us was willing to look away, our glares only deepening.

    "Chiara." Was all he needed to say, and so it began.