The Mafia's Plaything: His To Ruin

Brinda

“The mission was smooth, Boss." Bullet's voice was flat, yet her eyes glinted with an edge that made me wonder just how much of her soul was buried under the mask she wore.

Francesco’s gaze didn’t leave her, his eyes cold and calculating. “And you ensured all the evidence was cleared?" he asked again.

The tension in the air was palpable. Bullet didn’t respond verbally, but I could feel the answer in the silence. She nodded.

Francesco's grip on my hand tightened, his fingers digging into my skin as I fought to free myself.

“Whether you want it or not, Bullet is your partner now. She’ll be by your side on all operations. Your mission begins once we touch down in New York.” His words were sharp, as though he’d already decided my fate.

I pretended not to hear him, staring out the jet window, the cold wind biting at my resolve. The minutes dragged on, stretching into what felt like hours. I was trapped. There was no escaping the web Francesco had spun around me.

Soon, we were at the airport. I was yanked from my seat and pulled, not toward Francesco, but to the back of the jet.

The cold hands of his men guided me into a separate section, forcing me to sit apart. They shut the door with a finality that made my blood boil.

The muffled sounds that followed made my stomach turn — low moans from behind that closed door.

Francesco had locked himself in with Bullet, his toy, while I was left outside, helpless and burning with jealousy, fury, and something darker.

I tried to block out the noises, but sleep eventually claimed me. Exhaustion took over after hours of forced stillness.

When the night began to fall, Francesco called for me. I walked into his room, my every step filled with dread. He sat there, sprawled out as though the weight of the world couldn’t touch him. His posture screamed dominance.

"Sit," he commanded sharply, his voice carrying an icy authority that left no room for defiance. I hesitated, but only for a second, before I took my place opposite him, my gaze cold and distant.

“Purab Chaturvedi,” he said, breaking the silence, his tone casual but deliberate.

I looked away, pretending to be uninterested, but the name struck a chord. It felt like a puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit, and I hated how much I wanted to know what they shared.

“Purab Chaturvedi runs a media empire and has deep ties in the oil business,” Francesco continued, his voice colder now, with a hint of contempt. “Two years ago, he struck a deal with my father, but there’s more to that deal than what meets the eye. People like him aren’t to be trusted.”

"Why are you telling me all this? I didn’t ask," I shot back, my eyes narrowing as I met his gaze.

Francesco ignored my defiance. He picked up his glass, swirling the wine before taking a slow sip. The smoke from his cigarette filled the air like a cloud of menace, his every movement deliberate.

I couldn’t help but notice how much he smoked, his health slowly deteriorating with each drag. It was only a matter of time before it killed him — and I’d be there when it happened.

He leaned back, crossing his legs, his expression unreadable. “This is for your mission. You’ll need to set fire to the rain.”

“What mission? What fire? I’m not running errands for you,” I fired back, unable to contain my irritation.

He leaned forward, his eyes locking onto mine, the air around us suddenly feeling colder. “You will. And you will die if you don’t listen. Remember, Deadly Nightshade runs through your veins.”

His words hit me like a physical blow. The threat was real. I sighed deeply, the weight of his ultimatum pressing on me. “And what exactly is this mission?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Francesco stood, his tall figure casting a shadow over me as he moved toward the balcony. “Retrieve the crypt key,” he said, his words sharp like the edge of a blade.

I frowned, confused. “Crypt key? What is that?”

“You don’t need to know the details,” he replied, his voice devoid of warmth. “Just do as I say. No questions, no attitude.”

"Where is it?" I pressed, my impatience showing.

“The Fernandez family,” he said, his words dripping with disdain. “They’re my family’s greatest enemies. Their leader died recently, and now, it’s the perfect time to strike. The hideout’s location will be shared with you.”

I shook my head in disbelief. "How am I supposed to carry out this mission if you won’t tell me anything?"

Francesco’s gaze sharpened, and he raised an eyebrow. “You were once a spy. You know how to connect the dots. Do your job.”

With that, he walked away, disappearing into the bathroom and leaving me standing there, lost in a swirl of questions.

I couldn’t help but wonder — what had I gotten myself into? Purab Chaturvedi, Francesco, the Dante family, the Fernandez family... the pieces didn’t fit together, not yet.

I made my way to my room, where a well-packaged box awaited me. I opened it slowly, unsure of what to expect. Inside was a black suit, pistols, and a phone. The phone buzzed with a message.

Francesco: Ensure you set a lock screen password. Through this phone, I’ll know if things go wrong.

I tossed the phone aside, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on me.

I didn’t want to do this, but if it was the only way out, I’d do whatever it took.

After slipping into the black outfit, I covered my face with the mask Francesco had provided. My hair was pulled back tightly, and the pistols were tucked into my sides. The phone slipped into my breast pocket, the screen set to silent.

As I stared at my reflection, memories from the past flooded my mind. This was too familiar. The sleek black costume, the weapons, the mask — it was all too much like my old life.

The clock struck midnight.

I moved quickly, making my way down the silent corridors. The house was eerily quiet, and I quickened my pace. When I reached the door, I heard footsteps behind me — footsteps that didn’t belong to Francesco or his men.

I turned to find Bullet standing there, her eyes sharp and calculating, like a predator preparing to pounce.

"What do you want?" I snapped.

She ignored my question, rolling her eyes before walking past me. "Boss doesn't trust you. From now on, we’re partners on missions."

With that, she entered a black car parked outside, and I followed her. The driver, covered in tattoos and with his hair braided, gave us a nod before taking off.

We reached our destination, a dark building nestled in the shadows of the night. Bullet and I stayed low, blending into the darkness, moving swiftly like shadows. We had a mission to complete.

We approached the building, two guards standing at the entrance. Bullet gave me a sharp look, then raised an eyebrow, echoing Francesco’s signature gesture.

“Stay here,” she whispered. “I’ll go around. We take them down together.”

"I’m ready," I replied, already feeling the thrill of the hunt rise within me.

With a clean swoop, the men were down.

I shot one in the head, while Bullet took a more brutal approach, slitting her target’s throat.

Bullet turned to me, her expression unreadable. “These people are more dangerous than you think. Now I understand why Boss doesn’t trust you.”

She moved towards the entrance. “As we go in, we have two choices: come out alive or get killed. Make your decision.”

I followed her into the building, every step taking us deeper into the unknown. The mission had begun.

$Chapter