The Kiss Of Vengeance

They say time numbs pain.

That grief fades. That with some time, the past releases its grip.

They lie.

Ten years, and the pain has not dulled, instead, it has sliced more deeply. It has transformed into something else.

Thirst for Revenge.

I ghost hunted for years, shadow chased, after the men who took my parents away from me. I wanted their names. I wanted their faces. And sought them for years and when I found them, I did not just kill them instead I made them feel immense pain.

They thought they were above the law, deep beyond the reaches of the government . They did not expect me. They did not expect what I would do to make them talk.

I tortured them for days. I cut open their skin, crushed their bones. Deriving joy from their muffled screams in the darkness of my cell.

But no matter what I did to them, they didn't give anything. Even when I wrung the knife deeper, even when I cut my rage into their flesh, they never spoke.

It was not fear that silenced them,

It was something greater than myself. Something beyond my understanding.

Maybe it was because I was a woman.

Maybe they thought I lacked the brutality to break them. That I wasn't scary enough. That I would stop before things got too far.

They were wrong.

I turned my head slightly, my voice even. "Vito, get me my lipstick,the deep maroon one"

Vito, my right hand, nodded without question. He knew me well enough by now. When I asked for my lipstick, it meant the fun was about to begin.

A moment later, the sleek black tube was in my hand. I twisted the base, watching as the deep maroon emerged. Slowly, methodically, I applied it to my lips, taking my time. Letting them watch.

The two men I'd been torturing for days sat in their chairs, bound with thick rope, their faces swollen and bleeding. They were drenched in sweat, mixed with the dirt of the dark, damp prison cell. The stench of blood and terror clung to the air.

I went to the first man, the weaker one, the one whose whimpers had filled the room for the past two days.

He did not glance at me. Coward!

With dramatic caution, I leaned forward, my lips grazing his cheek as I kissed him. Then another on the other cheek. And then one on his forehead.

A blessing. A farewell.

I inhaled and took a step back, cocking my head to look at what I'd created. Red lipstick stained his sweaty, pale face.

Then I pulled out my gun.

The second man, the one with the smart mouth tensed, his bruised eyes opening another fraction of an inch, but he didn't speak.

I sighed, allowing the silence to fill the cold room.

BANG.

The head of the first man snapped back, blood splattering on the wall behind him. His body convulsed once, then fell forward. Dead.

A strangled sound ripped from the throat of the second man. His whole body shook, his breathing in rapid, shallow gasps. He hadn't seen it coming. Good, just what I wanted.

I looked at him, wiping down my gun with a cloth. His eyes darted from the freshly dead body beside him to me, alarm beginning to creep into his stare.

"Vito," I drawled, nodding toward a chair. He dragged it over, screeching the stone floor beneath the legs.

I sat back in my chair, uncrossing my legs and then crossing one on top of the other, completely unmoved by the pool of blood at my feet.

"Start talking," I whispered.

He swallowed hard but remained silent.

I sighed. "You're making this very difficult for yourself."

Tears leaked from his eyes, but he gritted his teeth, shaking his head stubbornly.

I leaned forward, studying him. His body was trembling, his fingers twitching against the ropes binding him. He was scared, terrified even, but he was holding on to something stronger than the fear of death.

Loyalty. Or perhaps, fear of someone else.

"Is that the best you've got?" His voice was croaky, weak. "Why don't you shoot me in the head like you shot my friend?"

I smiled, twirling the gun around my hand. "You want to die?"

He gritted his teeth, his lips pressed together.

I sighed and stood up, using my foot to push my chair back. His body became rigid as I drew near. He tried not to flinch when I knelt down and did the same thing all over again. A peck on both cheeks, then one on his forehead.

His breath stopped. I could feel the war going on inside him.

"Don't do it," he whispered, his throat raw.

I turned away from him, retreating a step and holding the gun against his chest, just below his heart. "Last chance."

He squeezed his eyes shut, mouth pressed into a tight line.

I touched the trigger. And then...

"Lombardi!" His name burst from his lips, like a wail of despair. "Vincenzo Lombardi! He sent us to do his dirty work. Please, please don't kill me. I can help you. I can help you get rid of him."

My finger lay poised on the trigger.

Vincenzo Lombardi. At last.

The name settled into my bones like ice, cold and chilling. It was the truth I had been searching for. The specter I had been chasing.

Lowering my gun, I tilted my head, studying the man before me. His breathing was ragged, his shoulders heaving with relief, as if he actually believed his life was important to me now.

Fool. I let the silence hang, watched hope kindle in his weary eyes.

Then I smiled. "Fine then," I whispered. "There it is. Finally, a name."

He nodded frantically, his bruised lips parting to shape more words, maybe to beg, maybe to bargain.

Then in one swift motion, I pulled the trigger.

His body jerked in pain as the bullet tore through his head, spattering the floor with his blood.

I let go of my gun, slowly breathing out as I watched him drop beside his friend.

The air stank of gunpowder and death.

I wiped my hands clean, my movements slow and deliberate. The rage inside me had not been extinguished, it had only been fueled.

I turned to Vito. "We have a name."

He gave a slow nod, eyes dark with understanding. "What's the plan?"

A smile curled at the edges of my lips.

"We're going to tear him apart."

Chapter Two

I turned to Vito, who stood at the door, waiting for my command. His face, though impassive, held an unspoken approval. He knew why I did it. He always knew.

"Clean this up," I said, slipping my gun back into its holster. "Make sure my uncle doesn't find out. I want the bodies somewhere they'll be found. Somewhere public."

Vito nodded. "Understood."

"And Vito," I added, meeting his gaze. "Make sure it makes the news."

A small smirk tugged at his lips. He liked it when I played the long game. "Consider it done, Francesca."

As I turned to leave the basement, stepping over a pool of blood, I felt lighter. I had a name. Vincenzo Lombardi. It was no longer just a shadow in my mind. It was real, tangible. And soon, it would be dead.

..........

The next day, I stood in front of my mirror, fastening the collar of my white coat. My hands trembled not with fear, but with anticipation.

I took up the remote and switched on the TV. Morning news blaring, the usual politics and scandals were displayed on the screen until the tone of the anchor shifted to announce something more serious.

"Two bodies have been found early today near the docks in a sensational case of murder.

Police are investigating the possibility that these killings may be linked to the infamous 'Red Reaper' serial killer who leaves lipstick marks on the faces of the victims.

The brutality of the crime would usually suggest a man but the lipstick mark has led us to believe the suspect is a woman. It has also been discovered that her victims are criminals that have been able to avoid serving time due to lack of sufficient evidence .

It could be said that this is vigilante murder,the suspect may believe to be fighting a wrong and saving the people

There is no additional information forthcoming from the authorities at the moment, but the underworld is already in confusion, wondering if this is an omen for a new era of terror."

I smiled. Just perfect. The seed had been planted. I had shaken the table, and Lombardi would soon be able to sense it. With all the breadcrumbs I had left for him. He might suspect that someone was coming to get him. But he'd never know it was me, not yet.

Satisfied by the turn out, I grabbed my bag and went to the hospital sure that my scheme was taking shape.

..........

The incessant beeping of the monitors and the pungent smell of disinfectants filled my senses as I finished suturing my last patient. Surgery had always been a way to calm my mind, to focus on something other than the ghosts that haunted me. But today, even while I worked, I felt the weight of what was to come.

"Dr. De Luca," my supervisor said as I made my way out of the OR, removing my gloves. "There's a special request for a surgeon. A VIP client."

I raised an eyebrow. "What kind of special request?"

"A private procedure," he explained. "You'd be doing the surgery in the patient's home. In light of your track record, I believe you're the best man for the job."

I folded my arms, incredulous. "Who is the client?"

He peered down at the file. "Alessandro Leonzio."

It didn't sound familiar. Some rich businessman, I was certain.

I shook my head. "I have better things to do. Decline it."

He exhaled. "All right, all right. But this is a once in a lifetime opportunity for the hospital. Are you sure about your desicion?"

"I'm sure," I cut him off, heading into my office. "I've got too much on my plate."

He nodded. I knew he wasn't happy with my answer but he really couldn't argue, I made the most money for the hospital and I was by far their best surgeon "Understood."

I slammed the door shut and breathed a sigh, rubbing my temples. I didn't want to be playing doctor to some spoiled rich kid, not when I had real work to do. I like my job but I didn't go into surgery to be at beck and call of the rich especially if I could be helping other people.

But fate had a twisted sense of humor.

About an hour went by before my boss rapped on the door of my office.

"Dr. Marino," addressing me with my actual last name. I hadn't liked the idea of being traced back to my mafia family, especially with my quest for revenge. Only a number of people are aware of this last name."There's someone here to see you. The high profile client."

I glared. "I just told you, I wasn't interested."

He came in, his voice low. "This is different. He requested to speak with you personally."

I stalled. Something in the manner in which he'd spoken sent a shiver running down my spine. My survival instincts told me this was no normal client.

"Fine," I said, standing up. "Let's get it over with."

He led me along the corridor, past the curious glances of the other hospital staff, and into one of the hospital's private consultation rooms. There were two men waiting inside. One was a bodyguard. I could tell by the way he stood, tensed and vigilant.

And the other.

My heart nearly stopped.

It took all my training to keep me from reacting. From having my body stiffen, my face shift, my breathing change.

I had imagined getting to see him a thousand times in the last 12 hours after looking at his picture.

In my mind, it had always been with a blade to his throat, terror in his eyes, specters of my parents witnessing me taking my revenge.

Not like this. Not in some chilly white room with my boss standing over me, not realizing that he had just taken me to the lion's den.

"Dr. De Luca," said my boss, smiling, not realizing that a war was raging beneath my skin. "This is Mr. Lombardi. He's the one who's seeking your services."

Vincenzo looked at me, his black eyes weighing, unyielding. Up close, he was enormous, tall and broad shouldered, the kind of stature that kept men on guard and women uneasy. But I was not most women.

I opened my mouth and put on a civil smile. "A pleasure, Mr. Lombardi."

His gaze settled on me a beat longer than necessary before he spoke. "Likewise, Doctor."

I could feel my boss's gaze, so I kept my tone light. "I thought the job was already filled."

Lombardi relaxed slightly, his expression pleasant but gaze sharp. "When I require something, I do not take second best."

Arrogant self-confidence. He had no idea he was letting a wolf into his home.

I tilted my head to one side. "And what do you want me for, precisely?"

"A personal physician," he said smoothly. "I require someone first rate and completely discreet. My line of work requires... certain cautions."

Discreet. Was this what he told the men who had killed my parents?

"The pay is wonderful," he continued. "And you will never have to step foot in a hospital for the duration of your contract. You will work exclusively from my estate."

My boss smiled, trying to make the sale for me. "It's a great opportunity, Francesca."

This was perfect. This was fate.

I smiled, shaking the hand of Vincenzo Lombardi. "You obviously don't take no for an answer ,so in that case, Mr. Lombardi, you have yourself a doctor."

His hand shook mine, having no idea that by doing so he had locked his own destiny into place.

Chapter Three

I followed Vincenzo back to his villa, this task weighing so heavily on my mind like a cloak of iron.

I was following his car but all I had on my mind was revenge, he was a minute away but I had to be patient. Lucky me for using my mothers maiden name otherwise my surname would have jingled something.

The man who had earlier been taken into the hospital was now wheeled into an exclusive clinic deep within Vincenzo's estate, where secrets were concealed as easily as corpses.

As my car crested the long, sweeping driveway, the massive shape of his villa rose before us in the darkness, its stone façade lit by the eerie light of garden lamps.

The estate stretched out in unspoken mastery, an empire forged in blood and strength. I stepped out of the car, my sharp eyes scanning as the night air enveloped me cold and fresh like a warning whisper.

Inside the clinic, the sterility smell of antiseptic hung on the air, mingling with the faint, unmistakable scent of blood. The walls were white, too white, as if trying to cover up the savagery that had brought us there.

The man was cold on the table, his flesh a battered palette, torn muscles, jagged wounds, and the tell-tale signs of a battle that no one should have survived.

The entry wound just beneath his left shoulder blade had been treated at the hospital already, but the danger lay under the surface.

Dark bruises spread out from the cut, swelling and indicating that he was bleeding internally. The deep slash down his side was worse, ragged and open.

Whoever had attacked him had meant to kill him.

I took slow breaths, my head clear and thinking. This wasn't an accident. This was a fight that had been abandoned.

Rolling my sleeves up, I began. The operation light shone its brassy light onto the oily red of exposed tissue as I repaired what had been destroyed.

My fingers wove with unshakeable routine, each stitch carrying me a little bit further in here, further into Vincenzo's territory.

And he observed me.

I did not have to look up to feel the weight of his stare. It was piercing and critical, the kind of gaze that measured a person's worth in silence.

There was something about being stared at this way that disturbed me, but I would not be shaken.

I just focused on the rhythm of the motion, on the effortless movement of my hands. I was being extremely careful, I had to prove to him that I was brought here by the hospital because I was the best.

I could not afford to destroy the future of my plans. I was not here accidentally, I was karma and I had finally caught up with Vincenzo.

By the time I finished, the man's vitals were steady, and the room was too still to bear. I ripped off my gloves and turned to find Vincenzo looking at me with blank eyes. He did not speak, merely a slow, approving nod.

This was definitely a test, then. And I had passed.

I packed up my things, and the weight of the night descended upon me. This was it. I'd gone down a road from which there was no turning back, and soon enough, I'd be too far gone to turn around.

..........

The drive home was quiet, but not my mind. My heart rate remained steady, but beneath it, a tension coiled in my chest, tightening with each passing moment.

The city lights blurred by the windshield, their glow streaking through the night like gold, but I barely noticed. My head was too tangled, too rough. I needed to talk to Vito.

The air at night was cool as I stepped out of the car. I drew my coat closer around me and put the phone to my ear and dialed him. The line cleared after a single ring.

I cut straight to it, telling him everything, the recommendation, Vincenzo's proposition and the timing. It was too good to be true.

Vito was silent on the other end, his breathing steady in the distance, a sign that he was on the move. There was a silent moment between us before he spoke at last, his voice carrying an edge I couldn't quite identify.

"What a coincidence, and yet, a pleasant one. Fate made it a lot easier for us and now we can proceed to phase two.

Stay close to him, and let me know what you need." He said.

A ghost of a smile appeared on my lips. "Be ready. You will be receiving plenty of work.".

I ended the call, but a creepy unease crawled beneath my skin. It was a strange feeling, one that I couldn't shake, no matter how much I tried.

..........

By the time I reached home, the air in my flat was still. The sweet, comforting scent of coffee and old books hung in the air, embracing me warmly.

Further away, the dull hum of the streetlights filtered through the curtains, casting shifting shadows on the walls, stretching the furniture into strange, misshapen forms.

I exhaled slowly, attempting to roll my shoulders to banish the lingering tension. It did not work.

Something felt off.

The moment I turned on the light, I gasped.

Lounging on my couch, his black suit unwrinkled, legs crossed in casual grace, was my uncle.

His presence dominated the room without making a single gesture, an unspoken authority of command draped in subdued menace.

His sharp, intelligent eyes drilled into mine, their intensity heavy with unspoken meaning. His face held no anger, no particular show of displeasure, just a patience more disturbing than any yelling.

Ice-cold fear crept into my belly, slow and insidious.