Killer's Kiss

Chapter six

Lisa grins, her bloodied smile a grim reflection of her defiance. Her leg is numb, the pain distant—what if this bastard has paralyzed her? What if she'll never walk again?

Her father's twin grips her chin, forcing her to meet his cold, lifeless eyes. The surroundings shift, no longer a dungeon, but a grand, luxurious space. Lisa tenses as he brushes his hand over the bullet wound in her leg.

"Does it hurt?" he asks, voice like ice.

"Fuck you." Lisa spits, but blood dribbles from her lips. Is she bleeding internally? She can't tell, and she doesn't care.

"You're a stubborn girl," he muses, a twisted satisfaction in his tone.

"What game are you playing, bastard?" Lisa's confused, angry, but mostly indifferent. She doesn't care about his mind games, not when her rage is so close to the surface. She'd rather tear his face off.

"Your father never spoke of me?" he presses.

"Fuck you and that dead piece of shit." Lisa groans when his slap lands. She's been tortured enough, but she won't let him win. "One bastard in my life wasn't enough. You'll soon join him, you know? Once I get out of here, I'll track you down and sell your organs."

"SHUT UP!" His palm strikes her again. "Let. Me. Speak."

For the first time, Lisa listens. If he slips up, maybe she can use it. She hopes to learn something about her mother—whether she's alive or dead—it doesn't matter, but Lisa has nothing but memories of a bright, hopeful woman, who, despite being beaten by Lisa's father, was the light of her childhood.

"Just give me a cigarette," Lisa mutters, her voice flat as she leans back in the expensive chair, surrounded by wealth and illegal money. The leather beneath her feels foreign, too clean compared to the grime she's used to.

The man takes his time, finally pulling a joint from his suit, slowly placing it between her bloodied lips and lighting it with a ruby match. Lisa exhales a deep puff, sinking back into the chair. It's the relief she didn't know she needed.

"Go on," she mutters.

"I'm nothing like your father," he says, gloating. "I work with precision, I run a global movement, not a reckless gang. I want you to join me and help expand my empire."

Lisa smirks, unimpressed. "Why didn't I hear about this gang of yours?"

"It's not a gang," he laughs, "we work in the shadows, building an empire from beneath."

She glances at the flag in the room, a black banner with a golden web in the center. "Cool," she mutters, grinning as she takes another drag from the cigarette. "My answer is still no."

His nostrils flare. "I'm being patient for your father's sake. Don't make me push you the hard way."

"Scary big guy," Lisa taunts, letting the joint fall to the floor. "I don't work for anyone. I was hoping to settle down, but I'm not letting you ruin my plans."

"You're still working with people in South Korea," he barks. "Am I wrong?"

She stiffens. He knows too much, and now she has to kill him. "How do you expect me to work with you when you look exactly like the man who raped my mother? You're delusional. You'll regret laying your hands on me, ugly motherfucker."

His smile widens. "All bark, no bite?"

"Oh, yeah?" She grins, then frees her hands from the ropes and punches him in the face. The bastard miscalculated.

With her injured legs screaming in agony, she forces herself to stand and lands another punch, then another, before taking the knife he had hidden in his pants. She slashes it across his face, from his eyebrow to his jaw. His scream rings in her ears like sweet music.