Lussaria; Her Final Blade

chapter four

The drive was long, winding, and completely disorienting with the blindfold snug around her eyes. She had tried to keep track of the turns, to memorize the bumps in the road, but after what felt like hours, the sound of gravel crunching beneath the car tires and the low hum of the engine became a blur. Her chest tightened with every second, knowing that this visit was the next step—one she couldn’t take back.

Her uncle’s voice had been clear and firm as he placed the blindfold over her eyes before leaving Sandy’s coffee shop. “No questions. Just follow.”

And now here she was, a hostage to her own choices, clutching the seat beneath her as her thoughts spiraled. A quiet dread crept up her spine with each passing minute. What awaited her in that mansion? She shuddered, unsure of what scared her more: the unknown of what he expected her to do, or the possibility that she might actually follow through with it.

Suddenly, the car slowed to a stop. She could hear muffled voices outside, some low chatter, and the unmistakable clink of metal—the sound of guns, no doubt. After a few beats, the door on her side opened, and a firm hand gripped her arm.

“We’re here. Don’t trip,” her uncle said, his voice void of emotion as he helped her out of the car.

Rosa’s feet met solid ground, and as she took a cautious step forward, she felt the blindfold tighten once more. She instinctively tugged at it, but his grip on her arm didn’t relent.

“Not yet,” he muttered, guiding her through what she assumed was a front entrance. The air felt cooler, and the distant echo of their footsteps confirmed they had entered some kind of grand building.

He led her through a series of turns, the smooth surface of the floor shifting to something rougher—perhaps carpet—and then she felt a blast of warm air, almost like walking into a large open space. Finally, the blindfold was yanked off.

The room was vast and opulent, just as she had expected. High ceilings, crystal chandeliers, and walls lined with dark wood paneling that gave the entire space a cold, oppressive feel. A large mahogany table sat in the center, and surrounding it were boxes—heavy-duty cases stacked on top of one another. Some were open, revealing their deadly contents: guns of all sizes, knives, grenades. Rosa’s throat tightened as she took in the sight. It was a far cry from the life she had tried to build for herself in New York.

“Welcome to the arsenal,” her uncle said, gesturing around the room like a man giving a tour of his prized possessions. He strolled toward one of the cases and flipped it open, revealing a sleek black handgun. “This is just the beginning.”

Rosa took a hesitant step forward, her eyes scanning the weapons but not touching any of them. “You expect me to use all of this?” she asked, her voice hoarse.

“You’ll use what you need,” he replied smoothly. “This isn’t about picking up a random gun and pulling the trigger. You need precision, focus—something you’ve had since you were a kid.”

Her stomach churned. He was referencing her past again, that life she had tried to bury, the one that reeked of violence and regret. She turned to face him, her jaw clenched. “I need to know who.”

Her uncle’s expression remained unreadable as he closed the case. He leaned against the table, crossing his arms, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “No, you don’t.”

Her heart skipped a beat, anger and fear warring inside her. “How am I supposed to do this if I don’t even know who I’m targeting?”

A sly grin spread across his face, sending a cold shiver through her. “You’ll know when the time comes. For now, all you need to focus on is preparation. The rest will fall into place.”

Rosa wanted to argue, to demand answers, but she knew it would be useless. He was in control, and nothing she said would change that. This was his game, and she was just a pawn—a reluctant one at that.

He moved toward another box, pulling it open to reveal a set of knives. They glinted in the low light, their edges sharp and deadly. “You’ve always been good with these,” he said, tossing one casually in her direction.

Without thinking, Rosa caught it mid-air, her fingers closing around the handle with a familiarity that made her stomach turn. She hated that he was right. Hated that, deep down, she hadn’t forgotten how to handle a weapon, how to survive in a world that thrived on bloodshed. She turned the blade in her hand, feeling its weight. It was perfect—too perfect.

Her uncle watched her, a glint of approval in his eyes. “There’s a reason I chose you for this, Rosa. You’re not like them. You’re better.”

The words felt like poison, seeping into her veins. She didn’t want to be better. She didn’t want any part of this.

“I didn’t come here to become a killer again,” she said through gritted teeth, her voice barely above a whisper.

“No,” he said, his tone softening, though the steel never left his gaze. “You came here to finish what you started.”

Rosa’s heart pounded in her chest. She knew what he was referring to, the ghost of her mother’s death hanging between them like a shadow. The night she had pulled the trigger, her mother’s betrayal, and the twisted way it all had come to an end.

“I never wanted this,” she whispered, her hand tightening around the knife.

“And yet, here you are.”

For a moment, the two of them stood in silence, the weight of her decision hanging heavy in the air. Rosa felt trapped, boxed in by her past and the inevitable future her uncle seemed so intent on forging. The weapons, the mansion, the secrets—this was his world, and she was drowning in it.

“Take the weapons you need,” he said finally, turning away from her. “You’ll be contacted when it’s time. Until then, stay sharp.”

Rosa watched him leave the room, his footsteps echoing off the cold walls until she was alone with the arsenal spread out before her. The reality of what she was about to do weighed heavily on her chest.

Her mother’s ghost lingered in the back of her mind, a haunting reminder of the line she had already crossed.

And there was no turning back now.