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.

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.”