Chapter 7 GINEVRA

Fear had erupted deep in my soul.

With every click of my heels against the floor, came fear.

With every rattle of chains, came fear.

With every strained whimper, came fear.

I trembled tremendously as I walked through the tunnel-like structure leading into the holding cell where Maxwell was held captive.

Cold shivers coursed through my bloodstreams as I had a recollection of about a week ago, when I was in the same situation as Maxwell. I was held hostage by the same man, I was familiar with that evil smirk plastered across his lips, I was familiar with the stench of blood and human feces, I was familiar with the smoke from his burning cigar, I was familiar with those chains, and I was familiar with the fear in Maxwell's eyes.

But I wasn't familiar with the way my heart almost leaped with joy at the suffering of another.

I was unfamiliar with the way my adrenaline pumped.

A few hours ago when Maxwell was delivered to the Pakhan during the procession of his daughter's funeral, the man had expressed his satisfaction-he had gently kissed my knuckles like a gentleman, and had led me to his table where I was introduced to his partners, and heads of other crime families.

Although suspicious and hesitant at first, The Pakhan and his associates finally acknowledged my abilities. There and then, his alliance and unwavering support was declared.

He shook my hand. And if the Pakhan of the Russian Bratva could shake my hand, the heads of other crime families had no choice but to do the same.

I was properly embraced as a reputable member of the crime society. And I was grateful.

But with every milestone came with a price. A price I was about to inevitability pay. The look in the Pakhan's eyes when my eyes connected his was all the confirmation I needed to know that I was about to pay that price.

"You've never had your first kill." It was a statement-a simple statement that held so much power. So much power that I trembled with fear. He continued speaking whilst I listened with wide eyes. "How did you make it in as a sworn member of your clan? How did you become the head of your clan if your hands are so squeaky clean?"

The Pakhan was curious to know, and he expressed the intensity of his curiosity.

With a clear of my throat, I answered. "There were other ways. . . I pricked at my bottom lip with a blade until it was bleeding profusely." I shook when the memories of my initiation ceremony came flooding. "I cut open my forearm until my blood had soaked up the skull statue."

I laughed lowly. "I wasn't going to take another life, so, I was made to pay the price with my own blood. I bled out too much that night-so much my skin paled, and my body almost gave out on me. I didn't allow it to. I held my ground until my sacrifices were acknowledged."

The Pakhan stared at me in awe, his lips almost twitching at the corners. "I see now why you're so different," he began, "but I don't shake hands with people who consider themselves saints."

I smiled. "You already shook my hand."

With a hum and a bob of his head, the Pakhan agreed. "Of course I did. But wouldn't you love to seal that handshake?"

My eyes immediately moved to Maxwell. I knew and completely understood what The Pakhan meant, but I didn't want to do it. Not yet.

But still, my insides exploded with excitement at the opportunity. "I can't." I mumbled, locking my gaze with the Pakhan's.

His head reeled backwards, laughter rippling out of him. "Do you refuse me, Ginevra Rodriguez?"

Shallow breaths escaped me, my eyes shutting tightly, and my fists clenching at my sides. "This isn't me refusing you, Don Viktor." I drawled. "Your daughter's life was taken, and the culprit's life isn't mine to take."

"I understand," The Pakhan said, dragging in a mouthful of smoke. "But still, I've become too old for this. I've lost my touch, and I'm asking you to do this. As a favor."

"Don Viktor," I breathed gently, "there's a monster."

He hummed. "I know. I see it. I feel it."

"If I let it out, there'll be no going back."

"Then embrace it." He pushed. "I'm offering you an opportunity to embrace your true nature, Ginevra. Make wise decisions."

For minutes, I stared at Maxwell's weak body, I stared until I was lost-Within a matter of seconds, I felt possessed and controlled by something wicked, something that urged me to go for the hunt.

I couldn't resist anymore. I tried, I tried my hardest to refuse the monster in me but it had already gone rogue. "Cut him loose." I declared, and my order was carried out-no questions asked.

I laughed lowly, unamused-I enjoyed the weakness and fear I saw in Maxwell's eyes when I crouched down with an axe. Hooking the axe beneath his chin, I forced his face upward, my fingers smoothening his bloodied hair.

"I have a few options for you, Maxwell." I began, my voice so low in a monotone. Chillingly low. "If you're able to make it out of this tunnel, I'll pardon you, take you back home, and compensate you for your troubles. But if you're caught before you're able to make it out, I swear to God, I'll rip out your esophagus with my bare hands."

Maxwell's breath hitched, his face paling as though he couldn't breathe. An excited squeal erupted in my throat, my palm crashing against his face. "Don't pass out before the fun begins, Maxwell." I warned. Suddenly, he heaved a heavy breath.

"P-please," he stuttered heavily, unable to form words out of his severed tongue. "Ginevra. . .don't do this."

From the far corner where the Pakhan was seated, a chuckle resounded-a humorless chuckle.

My breath shaky, I commanded, "go, Maxwell. Get up and start running. Your life is in your hands."

Maxwell was up before my statement was done. He began running-or tried to-dragging himself along with no energy whatsoever.

I gave him a head start-I was after all a compassionate person.

The predator in me awakened in the darkness, forcing my senses awake. My sense of hearing, and my sense of sight became extremely sharp. I began noting the smell of Maxwell's blood, the patters of his feet against the plastered floor, even down to the beat of his heart.

It only took a few minutes before I had my fingers curled around his hair, dragging him along with me to the start point.

"Were you even trying, Maxwell, or was it your intention to be caught?" My voice was in a monotone, my knee against his throat, holding steady his thrashing body whilst I slammed the axe against his arm until it was completely cut off.

The scream that had erupted from his throat was that of terror-the same terror that matched my hysteric laughter.

My eyes shifted from Maxwell to The Pakhan, and his eyes held deep excitement, darkness even. He evidently enjoyed the show on display.

"Quit screaming, Maxwell." I growled at the whimpering man. "Go for it again, and be sure not to make it easy this time. I'm in desperate need for some fun."

He wasn't complying. He laid there, whimpering and shivering, his eyes pleading that I took his life. I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of a simple death. I chuckled to myself, shaking my head at him, mocking his present state.

"Get the fuck up!" I commanded, my tone causing a chill against his skin. He stood and ran, and in the same manner as the first time, I caught him the second time around, severing his remaining arm as punishment.

The game was unending. Each time he ran, I would catch up on him, and rip apart a part of him. He ran until he couldn't run anymore, he breathed until he couldn't breathe anymore, he cried until he couldn't cry anymore-he was left completely useless on the bloodied floor, left at my mercy. A living corpse.

Trapping his thrashing body in between my thighs, I began cutting through a vertical line on both sides of his throat, easing my blade into his skin, and making sure to avoid any artery that might cause a mess-a bigger mess than the one I had successfully made.

"I warned you, Max. I warned you that your failure to make it out of here was going to come with a consequence. I promised to rip out your esophagus, and I'm not a person who goes back on my words."

My eyes were clouded by darkness, my heart dancing raggedly to the tune of Maxwell's scream as I tore open his flesh, dug my finger into his throat, wrapped my hand around his esophagus, and began pulling.

I saw nothing but red. Blood splashed all over me. My breath quickened. My blood began flowing fervently-I felt alive.

For the first time in twenty four years, I felt alive. I was alive.

Many years I had suffered, twenty-four years precisely-I took it all. I took all the pain, grooming evil inside of me. And today, that evil had risen to swallow me whole and completely.

When Maxwell stiffened beneath me, I knew he had no hope, he had given up. My blinking slowed. My consciousness awakened and I felt it. The disgust, the guilt, the pain. My throat tightened with bile, my stomach flipped, and my breath quickened, but not in the way that excited me.

I threw myself off the man I had just ripped apart, panting, screaming, and crying frantically. I shook my head multiple times, wanting it to all be a nightmare. This was not who I was.

"You had it in you all this time." The Pakhan's voice ricocheted, shattering my hopes that this was unreal. His monstrous voice continued to taunt me. "An animal on a leash finally released into the wild, I wonder what chaos she'd create in the jungle." He laughed at my predicament.

I squeezed at my chest and gasped for air from the lack of oxygen. "It-it was a mistake." I cried, my body trembling.

"Was it? Was it really a mistake, Miss. Rodriguez? Because from where I sat, I saw a girl who enjoyed this every second of the way. I saw a girl who came alive at the suffering of another. I saw a girl who performed her first kill like fine art-as though she'd been fantasizing over it."

Two of his men looped their hands around mine before I could protest, holding me down whilst I screamed and trembled.

"What are you doing?! We had a deal!" I cried out, thrashing myself, attempting to get off their strong hold, but it wasn't possible.

The Pakhan stepped forward, his fingers moving my hair out of my face. "Don't worry sweetheart, I won't hurt you, but I need to know how far you can go." He murmured, as if intending to calm my raging mind. "One week, Ginevra. Stay for a week more, let us make something more dangerous out of you!"

He laughed just as I felt a sting on my neck. And slowly, ever so slowly, I drifted into nothingness.

I had indeed resided with the Pakhan of Bratva for a week.

My disgust over the murder I had committed had disappeared the moment my eyes shot open the day after, replaced by something else-hunger for more blood.

The Pakhan let me. He gave me series of opportunities to take lives, and he would sit in a dark corner, watching me. Each time, he was impressed by the diverse ways at which I ripped people apart.

In one week, I had already gained his trust.

In one week, a lot was learned about the business, and about life in totality.

I went wild, got all my scars tattooed on, and lived a little.

My stay in Russia wasn't completely regrettable, but the time had come when I needed to go back and wield the power I had gained.

The power I worked so hard for.

During our walk to the limousine that was to convey me to the airstrip, the Pakhan had urged me to coerce mio padre into giving up the legal businesses under his name. He wanted me to become CEO, but it was going to be a task twice as difficult.

I had simply nodded my head to the Pakhan, not wanting to let him into my concerns.

"I have one more task for you," The Pakhan had called my attention, leaving me to wonder what difficult task he had for me. He was not a simple man. "A week from today, the Sanchez's are expected to be receiving a shipment." My eyes landed on Don Viktor, and his lips twitched at the corners. "Steal it."

My eyes widened at his demand as I tried hard to find the right words to refuse him. "We're not allowed to meddle in our businesses in that manner."

His answer was a chuckle, a low chuckle that indicated his anger towards my need to follow rules. I knew I had two choices-carry out his orders or die.

Without questioning him any further, I accepted the challenge.

I had less than a week to plan on how to hijack a shipment that belonged to the Sanchez's.

Great! Suicide mission.

"Do you know anything about Luigi's son?" My curiosity had gotten the best of me, the question eliciting my lips before I could swallow my words.

"No one knows anything about him except the fact that he is very brutal and bloodthirsty, a business strategist and a master manipulator. If you make contact with him, do not make the mistake of indulging him." He stated in one breath, his eyebrows shooting up as if assessing me.

Shifting uncomfortably, I muttered, "I understand. I have to leave or I'll be late for my flight."

I was about to be doomed.