Disguised to kill the mafia heir

Francesa's POV

I love torture. Ah, got you there. You didn't even let me finish.

I meant what I said, don't confuse yourself. I love inflicting torture. On whom you may ask. My victims.

I don't need to talk much; my actions speak for themselves.

Right now, I am perched on a branch high within the shadows of a massive oak tree, my dark outfit blending effortlessly with the night.

The security guards patrolled at tight intervals. They are well-trained and armed. I will give them that. But they are yet to meet me. Cameras spun with precision, the infrared sensors flashing red lights at short intervals.

They were sleek drones, military-grade toys scanning the perimeter. This man must have thought they were his ultimate defense. Isn't that cute? I deployed a small device no larger than a coin.

The pulse from the electromagnetic jammer swept through the air, causing the drones to lose their purpose, moving so aimlessly like blind insects. A ripple of static crackled through the air. Seven seconds of pure silence.

That's all I needed. "Too easy," I whispered, a dark satisfaction curling in my chest. The descent was effortless. A flick of my wrist, a silent leap, and I was already moving, my body a shadow against the night.

The estate's towering walls were no obstacle, just another laughable attempt to keep people like me out. I scaled them with ease, slipping past the now, useless motion sensors like a whisper in the wind.

As I landed on the balcony, I pressed my back against the cold marble, scanning the lavish interior through the tinted glass doors. The room beyond was dark, save for the faint glow of security monitors.

Useless now. I slid a slender tool from my belt, inserting it into the door's biometric lock. The scanner flickered, protesting, but within seconds, the system surrendered to my override. The soft click of the lock disengaging was almost too satisfying.

Stepping inside, I took a slow breath, inhaling the scent of leather, whiskey, and expensive cologne. "Home sweet home," I murmured, gliding across the pristine carpet. The floor plan was already imprinted in my mind.

Every hallway, every hidden passage. I moved with calculated ease, avoiding the scattered patrols who still had no idea their entire security system had turned against them. Poor fools.

As I approached the master wing, a guard rounded the corner, his rifle at the ready. I was on him before he could blink. One sharp twist-his neck snapped with a sickening crunch. He dropped like a marionette with its strings cut, his weapon slipping from his grasp.

I stepped over the body without a second thought. The heavy oak doors at the end of the corridor loomed ahead. Behind them, Dominic Vance. The bastard who thought money could buy him invincibility.

I tapped into the final security override, disabling the biometric scanner with a simple line of code. The doors hissed open. And there he was. Sprawled across silk sheets, Dominic lounged naked, his bare chest glistening under the dim golden glow of the chandelier.

A half-empty bottle of wine dangled from his fingers, the deep red liquid sloshing as he laughed at something one of the women whispered in his ear. The scene was almost pathetic.

Women draped over him like expensive accessories, giggling, purring, running their hands over his body, utterly oblivious to the shadow that had just stepped into their world. I cocked my gun.

The sharp click shattered the air. Dominic's head snapped up, his drunken amusement vanishing as his gaze locked onto mine. Fear flickered in his eyes for just a second before arrogance took over. "Who the hell-" BANG.

The shot rang out, swift and precise. Dominic screamed as the bullet tore through his leg, the impact knocking the wine bottle from his grip. It crashed onto the floor, staining the white fur rug beneath him. He clutched his bleeding thigh, panting, eyes wide in disbelief.

The women shrieked, scrambling backward, clutching silk sheets to their bodies. I tilted my head, watching them with amusement. "Go. I didn't come for you."

They hesitated, eyes darting between Dominic and me, their bodies frozen in indecision. Still not moving? I sighed, tapping the barrel of my gun against my chin. "Huh. Seems like they want to stay, Dominic." I smirked, eyes gleaming with mock sympathy. "Maybe they'd like to bear witness.See you at your lowest.

After all, you treat them like dirt. Wouldn't it be poetic for them to watch you die?" Dominic groaned, his fingers pressing desperately against his wound. "You-" "Shhh," I cooed, taking a slow step forward, eyes flicking back at the women.

"Do you all want to watch him die?" Some nodded. "You bitch-" I let out a soft, amused chuckle, twirling the gun in my hand before pressing the barrel against Dominic's temple.

He flinched, his breath coming in ragged gasps, blood pooling beneath him. "Now, now," I purred, my lips curling into a smirk. "That's no way to talk to the woman holding your life in her hands." He gritted his teeth, sweat dripping down his forehead.

I could see the panic beneath his anger, the helpless realization settling in. He knew there was no bargaining with me. No bribing. No escaping.

I tilted my head at the women still standing there, frozen in a mix of morbid curiosity and fear. "You're really staying?" I mused. "Damn, Dominic. Looks like your charm isn't enough to make them not want to see you suffer." One of them-a striking brunette-crossed her arms, her voice laced with bitterness. "He deserves it."

Dominic let out a breathless laugh, half-crazed. "You whores think you're any better? You-" Crack. I slammed the butt of my gun into his mouth, cutting him off mid-rant. A sharp cry escaped him as blood dribbled down his chin, staining his teeth. "Tsk." I crouched beside him, tapping his bruised cheek with the barrel. "You really don't know when to shut up, do you?" His breath hitched, his eyes darting between me and the gun. Fear.

That was what I wanted to see. I dragged my finger slowly along the trigger, leaning in close, my lips ghosting over his ear. "Here's what's going to happen, Dominic," I whispered, my voice dripping with venom. "I'm going to take my time with you. And you? You're going to beg. Not for your life, no. That ship has sailed. But for the pain to stop. I leaned back, my smirk deepening. "And you will beg. Even a bastard like you has limits." Dominic's body trembled, his pride battling his survival instincts.

But I saw it. That flicker of surrender in his eyes. I lived for this moment. "Let's have some fun, shall we?" "You will regret this. People will come after you." I let out a soft, throaty laugh, dragging the barrel of my gun down his jawline. Predictable.

They always said the same thing. Empty threats spat from bloodied lips. "People?" I echoed, feigning interest. "Oh, Dominic, you flatter me. You think I don't want them to come after me?"

I leaned in closer, my breath warm against his ear. "It's adorable, really. Like a dying dog still trying to bark." He gritted his teeth, his fingers twitching as he tried to move, but the wound in his leg kept him pinned. "You think you're untouchable," he rasped, his voice shaking. I rolled my eyes. "No, darling. I know I am."

---

The elevator doors slid open with a quiet chime, and I stepped into the grand marble lobby of the Aneres organization. The pristine floors reflected the dim glow of the lights above, but what truly caught attention wasn't the luxurious surroundings.

It was me. Blood seeped through my clothes and splattered on my arms. The dark red stains stood out on my black clothes. The smell of blood was strong and unmistakable. With each step, my boots left faint red footprints. I thrived on these moments.

Every gaze that flickered toward me-hesitant, cautious, some even daring to hold admiration-fed the satisfaction curling in my chest. No one spoke. No one dared. Then, a voice. "The chairman called for you." I turned my head slightly.

The man standing to my right kept his posture stiff, his eyes firmly locked on the ground. He wouldn't meet my gaze. Even among killers, I was a different breed. And my eyes-my unnatural, haunting violet eyes-reminded them of that.

I reached the chairman's office and stepped inside. The air smelled of old leather and expensive cigars. Behind a huge wooden desk sat the chairman.

His brown hair was neatly combed, and his dark eyes watched me with a mix of amusement and caution. He was used to my dramatic entrances, even when I showed up covered in blood.

But he knew better than to look worried. "I heard the news," he said, leaning back in his chair. "Dominic Vance. From what I've gathered, you probably did too much to him." A slow smirk curled on my lips. "Any man who harms women, treats them like shit, deserves no mercy."

My voice was smooth, but laced with venom. "And you knew what he was involved in. Human trafficking. Selling girls like products. The world is better off with his insides decorating his sheets."

The chairman chuckled. "I never expected restraint from you." "And you never will." He tapped his fingers against the desk before sliding a black folder toward me. "I have another job for you." I raised a brow but took the folder, flipping it open. "Another molester?"

"No." His voice lost its amusement, turning cold. "This time... it's about her." I froze. My fingers tightened around the edges of the folder, the paper crinkling under my grip. Her. My twin sister. I lifted my gaze, my purple eyes burning into his. "Go on."

Francesa's POV

Later...

It's the weekend.

And I am at the club. The music was too loud. Like someone had handed a malfunctioning speaker system to a drunk DJ and told him to blast it until the walls cracked.

Strobe lights danced like frantic lightning across the bodies grinding on the floor. Perfume thick enough to choke a corpse.

And in the middle of it all, there is me.

Sitting in the darkest corner, a glass of something I wasn't drinking resting in my hand. I twirled the stem with two fingers, watching the amber liquid swirl like it might offer me answers.

It didn't. Nothing did.

Not when that instruction the chairman gave me with that folder still ringing in my head like a second heartbeat.

Her.

I pressed my tongue against the inside of my cheek, my jaw tightening.

Why the hell was I here? Because someone thought I needed to "blend in," "recharge," or whatever delusional excuse passed for getting us all drunk in one location with no target in sight.

I hated parties. Too many people pretending they're not seconds away from dying if I got bored enough.

Someone plopped beside me like she had no survival instinct.

"God, Francesa."

Ah. Claudia. Sweet but deadly.

She looked like she belonged in a goddamn bakery commercial. She has bright eyes, pink lips, the kind of softness that made grown men drop their guard and then their pulse.

Too bad I'd seen her shove a knitting needle through a diplomat's jugular once. Never batted an eye.

She grinned at me.

"You're such a party pooper," she said, tossing her golden curls behind her shoulder like she wasn't trying to get me killed by volume alone. "You could at least try to act like a normal human being. For once."

I turned to her slowly. Not annoyed. Just... intrigued. "You want me," I murmured, my voice barely audible over the music, "to act like a normal human being?"

She blinked, beaming. "Exactly!"

I leaned in, letting my lips curl into a slow, razor-edged smile. "You mean lie, pretend to care about irrelevant social rituals, drink diluted alcohol while fantasizing about slitting the bartender's throat, and giggle when men touch my waist uninvited?"

Claudia laughed, her nose scrunching like a little bunny. "God, you're so dramatic."

"No, darling," I purred, lifting the untouched glass to my lips, letting the scent burn my nose before setting it back down. "I'm just awake in a world full of sleepwalkers."

Claudia rolled her eyes, leaning closer. "Well, the next time I might spend time with you might be never."

I arched a brow.

She twirled a lock of blonde hair around her finger, her voice dropping. "I heard the next mission you have will take long. Months. You'll be off-grid, won't you?" I didn't answer.

Claudia's smile wavered for just a second, enough for me to catch the edge of worry. "So... just for tonight-can you, I don't know, act normal? For me?"

I stared at her, deadpan. "You're asking a predator to dress like a lamb."

She grinned. "Exactly. You'd make a really cute lamb." I groaned and tilted my head back, sighing toward the ceiling. "I genuinely don't understand how we're friends."

Everyone else kept their respectful distance. They nodded, exchanged intel, avoided eye contact. The smart ones never lingered in my shadow. But Claudia danced straight into it like it was a sunbeam.

Was it because she reminded me of-

I stopped that thought. Slit its throat mid-sentence. I am not going to think about that.

I turned to her again, letting my eyes narrow to slits. "Stop making that face." She blinked, all wide eyes and innocence. "What face?"

"The one that says, 'if you don't do what I want, I might start fake-crying in public.'"

She pressed her lips together, doing that obnoxiously exaggerated pout she knew drove me insane. "Is it working?"

"I wish," I muttered, dragging a hand down my face. "Fine. I'll try." Claudia squealed. Actually squealed. "Yes! That's the spirit!"

"I'm already regretting this." She was already on her feet, practically skipping across the floor. She returned with a half-empty bottle of something gold and mean, holding it up like a prize.

"Step one," she declared, unscrewing the cap. "You're going to drink." "Do I look suicidal?"

"Relax," she said, pouring into two plastic cups. "It's not poisoned." I eyed her. "How sure are you?"

Claudia's smile sparkled. "Only one way to find out." She shoved a cup toward me and lifted hers high. "Cheers!" I stared at her, then the drink, then back to her. Her eyes danced.

I clinked my cup against hers with a long-suffering sigh. "To probable liver damage."

She downed hers in one clean gulp like it was water.

I took mine in smaller sips. It was bitter, and it was biting my throat. It tasted like fermented regret.

My face contorted. "That tastes like pain."

Claudia grinned, licking her lips. "It's the sacrifice for a happy feeling."

I gave her a long look. "You like pain."

"So do you."

Fair.

Claudia kept pouring.

One shot turned into two.

Two turned into "oh my god, just one more, you're not even tipsy yet!"

The alcohol burned hotter with each swallow, slinking down my throat like fire with fangs.

I could feel it pooling in my stomach, slow and heavy, coiling like a serpent. My limbs got warmer.

My vision sharpened and blurred in the strangest way, like I could see the room clearer but care less about it.

"Claudia..." I muttered, wobbling slightly on the seat, "If I end up killing someone tonight, it's your fault."

She just laughed, then grabbed my arm. "Come on!" I didn't get a say. She was already dragging me toward the dance floor.

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes!"

The music felt louder now. My head pulsed with the bass, each beat a dull throb behind my eyes. The lights flickered violently. Everything was disorienting. I could hear every lesson drilled into me when I was taught to be a ruthless killer. Don't drink to the point of dull senses.

Don't allow your awareness to fade in a crowd.

Control is survival.

Right now? Control was slipping through my fingers. Claudia danced like she didn't have daggers hidden beneath that pretty little dress.

But more than that-

She danced like she was free.

Her arms above her head, hips swaying like sin wrapped in innocence. She turned to me, cheeks flushed, eyes bright.

"You're the best friend I ever had," she said breathlessly, her voice floating through the music. That... did something.

It cracked something.

Not that I'd ever admit it. Not even under torture.

I looked away, scanning the dance floor. Mostly just making sure Claudia didn't bring too much attention to herself-

Too late.

Some idiotic men had already noticed her. Their eyes shameless. Their grins wide and oily.

But then they noticed me. My stare met theirs.

Just the slow lift of my head... and that look.

That look I'd perfected. The one that whispered: Come closer, and I'll gut you where you stand. And I'll enjoy every second of it.

They looked away. Smart little boys.

Claudia, of course, paid no mind to the chaos she summoned with her hair flips and breathless laughs.

She twirled and grabbed a random man's arm-tall, tanned, built like a regret waiting to happen.

"I'm gonna get laid!" she called, already tugging him toward toward an hallway. "Claudia!" I called after her, eyes narrowing. "Are you insane?!"

She blew a kiss over her shoulder. "Love you! Bye!" I stared. Was she crazy? Yes. Always.

Could she defend herself? Absolutely. Probably better than anyone else in this room.

Still, she was mine to protect.

Even in this half-drunken haze, I couldn't shake that. So I moved. My footwear were heavier than usual. My steps wobbled. I blamed the lights. And the drinks. And Claudia being an impulsive little hell-angel.

I weaved through the crowd, ready to trail her like the overprotective psychopath she'd turned me into.

Then I slammed into something solid.

A hard and solid chest.

Fuck. I stumbled back a step, my fingers brushing fabric, muscles.

And scent.

God.

He smelled like leather, smoke, and something dark I couldn't name. Like danger bottled into cologne.

A voice followed. It curled down my spine. "You alright, beautiful?"

The voice did... things.

To my ears.

To the haze in my mind.

I blinked and looked up.

Holy shit.

His face.

Sharp jaw, shadowed stubble, deep-set eyes that looked like sin dipped in secrets. He looked handsome and deadly.

Sexy in a way that felt illegal to be near.

Okay. I was definitely drunk.

Because I never thought things like that.

Not out loud.

Not even in my head.

And yet... My hands swayed, unsteady and slow, landing over his chest like I needed something to hold onto. Something solid.

His voice slid between the music.

"Did a beautiful woman like you... come here alone?"

God.

The bass in his voice could bring down the heavens.

Or bring someone to their knees.

I tilted my head, my lips curling as I peered up at him through lowered lashes. "Yes," I said, letting the word roll off my tongue. "Why? You planning to kill me?" He chuckled.

And fuck-

Even that sounded like sin. Deep and rich, like it came from somewhere buried in his chest. Somewhere warm and wicked. He leaned in just enough for his breath to graze my cheek, his eyes smoldering with something that felt too deliberate.

"No," he murmured. "I'm planning something much better."

I raised a brow "Better?"

A pause. Then his voice dropped.

"I'm going to claim you." My thighs pressed together instinctively.

It was faint. But the heat that bloomed there wasn't alcohol.

It wasn't imagined.

And it sure as hell wasn't safe.

Shit.

Matteo's POV

The only reason I came to this circus of flashing lights and sweating bodies was to see the owner of the club. One of my best friends, unfortunately.

He'd been pestering me to show up for weeks..

So I showed up reluctantly.

Half-expecting to be bored out of my goddamn mind.

Then she ran into me.

Correction, she slammed into my chest like the universe had just tripped and fallen into my arms.

My first reaction?

Annoyance. Obviously.

People don't bump into me. Not unless they want to lose something important-like teeth. Or lungs.

But her scent.

Fuck.

It hit me like a blade pressed against skin. It was so unexpected and sharp, beautiful in the way poisons are beautiful.

A subtle blend of danger and sweetness. Spice and smoke and something feral beneath it all.

I looked down, and hell opened a door.

Shoulder-length hair, slightly mussed from dancing.

Light caramel skin kissed by the chaos of neon strobes.

And unnatural and haunting violet eyes.

They pinned me before I could even think of blinking.

The music felt like it'd dipped below the surface of the world. Muted. Distant.

Like time itself was smart enough to pause.

What the fuck are you?

She looked up at me, swaying slightly, her hands pressed to my chest like I was the only thing keeping her upright.

She was drunk.

Trying not to look it. Failing in the most fascinating way possible.

My lips curved and I leaned in.

Close enough for only her to hear.

"I'm going to claim you."

And there it was.

That beautiful, involuntary reaction.

Her legs shifted. She felt it. And she hated that she felt it.

God, I loved that. I didn't give her time to form a sentence.

I swept her off her feet in one smooth motion-one arm under her knees, the other behind her back.

She gasped, trying to protest. Her hands clutched my shoulders.

But she didn't fight me.

I cut through the crowd like a shadow through fog. Up the stairs.

Down a quiet hallway pulsing with distant bass.

Click.

I opened the door to my private room. A dark and sleek room.

Just dim lighting, velvet couches, glass and steel.

I stepped inside, kicked the door shut with my footwear, and placed her gently on the leather couch like she was made of glass. But glass I wanted to shatter.

I stood over her, unhurried, letting my eyes rake over her from head to toe

Violet eyes. Stubborn jaw.

Full lips that looked like they'd curse me out mid-kiss.

I grinned.

Not the kind that says I like you.

The kind that says I know exactly how you'll break, and I want front row seats.

She looked like sin wrapped in silk.

Violet eyes that didn't blink. A mouth made to make men kneel and bleed. And not a single trace of fear.

Intriguing.

I leaned in, slow and deliberate, inhaling the scent of her like she was already mine.

She smelled like trouble. Like gunpowder and temptation in a dress.

My hand slipped beneath the hem of her gown, fingers trailing up smooth skin, hungry for more.

And then, like a trap snapping shut, she caught my wrist.

"Clothes stay on," her voice purred. She didn't sound nervous or shy.

I blinked once, slowly. Then let out a low chuckle.

"Pity," I murmured. "But I'm a generous man."

Lie.

But she didn't need to know that yet.

I adjusted. No pressure.

I was here for the game. So I kissed her.

And-

God have mercy on my soul.

It was like kissing fire. It wasn't soft or sweet. It was Devouring.

Like she wanted to eat the chaos out of me before I could do the same to her.

Her arms looped around my neck, dragging me closer. Her tongue fought mine like it had something to prove.

Which was adorable, considering I had every intention of winning.

Suddenly, the world flipped.

There was no warning or visible effort.

One second I was over her, the next I was the one laid out on the leather couch, breath knocked clean from my lungs.

What the-?

She stood over me, cool as nightfall, packing her hair back into a loose twist with a few precise fingers.

Like rearranging me had been an afterthought. Like I was the appetizer, not the threat. My heart thudded hard.

Not from surprise.

From arousal.

There was a pressure building in my pants, thick and pulsing and impossible to ignore.

All from a kiss.

A fucking kiss.

What the hell was she made of?

Then she tilted her head down and smiled-slow, dark, and amused.

"Close your eyes," she murmured, voice slick and quiet like oil spreading over water. "Unless you think I'm about to kill you."

That smile said she could. That voice said she might. And fuck me, that only made me harder.

I closed my eyes.

Not because I trusted her.

But because I didn't.

And that made it so much more fun.

Then I felt her hands, cradling my face like she was handling a loaded gun. She felt delicate yet dangerous.

Her hips found the rigid line of my cock, pressing down in a slow, maddening grind that pulled a groan straight from my chest.

And then her mouth found mine again.

Hot. Starving.

She kissed like she was trying to set a precedent-I'm in control.

But if that was the case, she shouldn't have let me grab her ass.

Because once my hands landed there, I pulled her tighter. Forced the rhythm faster.

We ground against each other like we were trying to carve out something new with our bodies and our mouths.

My shirt didn't survive the next minute.

She slipped it off with an efficiency that made me suspicious and aroused.

And then she finally peeled herself out of that dress.

It hit the floor with a whisper.

And fuck me. She was art.

Carved curves and wicked thighs I would've gladly died between.

But she was more than beautiful. She was lethal.

And I didn't want to look.

I wanted to consume.

I yanked her forward by the waist and snapped her bra loose, not caring how it tore.

One of her perfect breasts filled my mouth a heartbeat later, and the sound that followed, I don't know if it was her moan or my groan.

Might've been both. Might've been neither.

All I knew was this:

I wanted to unravel her. With my tongue, with my teeth.

I licked. Bit. Sucked.

Her nipple peaked harder in my mouth, and the noise she made-Christ.

It wasn't sweet.

It was raw. Like pleasure dragged straight from the back of her throat.

Her hips didn't pause. She kept riding the ache between my legs like she wanted to break me, grinding down over my cock with increasing force, pace building like a storm about to hit.

And fuck, I felt it.

Every rub. Every drag of heat against the bulge.

My dick throbbed like it was going to split through the seams and finish this for both of us.

I groaned again, deep and hoarse, grabbing a handful of her ass to pull her harder against me, grinding her into my lap until friction wasn't enough.

Wasn't fucking close to enough.

I wanted to be inside her. I wanted to be buried inside her, to be lost. To be gone.

But I didn't stop her. Didn't take control.

Because I didn't want to.

She had me on my back. Hands full of curves and heat and a mouth like ecstasy.

And I was loving every goddamn second of it.

What kind of woman flips a man like me onto his back and makes him feel like he's about to come just from dry grinding and a taste of her skin?

A dangerous one.

A different one.

The kind you don't just fuck and leave.

The kind that wrecks you, and somehow, you thank her for it.

I looked up at her-lips parted, hair loose now, violet eyes locked onto mine like she could see every unhinged, broken part of me and wanted to play with it.

It was beautiful and wicked.

And completely unknown. What's even her name?

I didn't know and I didn't care. I'd ask tomorrow.

If she didn't kill me in my sleep. But something told me this wasn't over.

Not even close.