Fallen Ashes |✔️

Sniper

Myra

I was going to kill Venus Castellanos.

I groaned as I rolled out of bed, frowning at the man who lay there asleep- I hadn't cared to remember his name. My willowy toned figure shivered as I scrambled for the clothes I'd torn off in my drunken state last night.                                                                                                                                          

I had more important things to do, I thought without further procrastination before picking up the revolver I carried without fail.

13 months. That's how long I'd been trying to kill the red devil, the fabled princess of the underworld, humiliating crime bosses and making dramatic exits out of her own wedding.

God, I despised that bitch.

And now the entire world of organised crime did too, I supposed with her now being on the radar of every mafia agent who had half a clue of what they were doing. For anyone who cared, she was the key. To glory, to a potential alliance with the Greek mafia lord and the red devil herself. And with a considerable bounty on her head, anyone would sell themselves for a chance to put her head on a spike.

She plotted against some of the most powerful mafia bosses, rumours had claimed. Others claimed she was plotting the assassination of her ex-fiancé with her father's greatest enemy. She wanted to rule over every crime organisation in the states by killing the the heirs of every crime boss, starting with the Belgian ape and the Italian prince who had supposedly formed an alliance with her.

I didn't care which of the rumours were truths or not- I'd been trying to put her in the ground for much longer than anyone else before her sudden rise to significance in the underworld. Others could attempt at it, but no others had the experience, had tried- and failed- as I had.

The woman was made of smoke, drifting upon the wind and gone between one second and the next. Every time I advanced on her, she changed residences or had some spectacle prepared to foil my plans. The ball invitation had seemed too good to be true- at first I'd been hesitant to attend an event hosted by the Greek crime boss, likely to be part of a much deeper scheme for him to invite allies who could hardly be called that. Part of me didn't care if it meant getting a bullet through my chest- but I wanted to live long enough to kill the Greek crime boss- kratos or whatever crap name they called him these days.

If you can't get the head, go for the body of the snake, were some of the last words my mother had said to me.

The American mafia always had a tense relationship with the Greek crime boss for years, even before the red devil permanently made her move to the states. Power was what you made it and alliances were how shady you let them become. I didn't fear them- and I wanted more. For too long we'd been passed off as weak and insignificant compared to the other powers. Too far we were said to have fallen. Not anymore, I'd promised myself and every drop of blood I'd spilt to get here. We would rise, and bite back stronger than ever. 

It had been eight years since my mother had died, leaving me to the stepdad who showed no mercy in leaving me to train myself only to become his right hand whether I liked it or not- a girl with nobody left in the world used to become his weapon. And I'd showed no mercy in setting him up for a mafia rally destined to end with him receiving a bullet through the skull.

The American mafia boss had left no biological heirs- except for an orphaned stepdaughter who clawed her way to claim her throne. I promised I'd never be weak again, to never let anyone take away what was mine. His people, his assets, his wealth was all mine. And my mother would have been proud to see her daughter poised to give back every bit of pain dealt to us both. The Greek lord would pay too when the time came- all of them would. Starting with Venus Castellanos, the perfect killer who had no idea what was coming her way. I'd harboured my secrets for years- and If the truth didn't kill her, I prayed the shock would leave her to roll over and die.

I'd been so close to pulling the trigger of my sniper that night, perched in a tree not so far away from the mansion at the night of the ball. But then there was the issue of the masks, separating friend from foe as they all clustered and glided across the ballroom floor, letting the red devil become the centre of attention. Aimed to go through her skull- and I would have done it had the dark haired prick not shown up to dance with her, sending men all over the place to try and seize him. I almost wanted to spare her as I watched her snap the wrist of the Belgian grunt. But I knew it was already too late as she made her way out of the ballroom, with the security increased to an inconvenient amount for me to shoot her brains out the next night.

___

The nightclub was teeming with party-goers, mostly drunken fools who had no sense to not fear the killer in their midst as I shoved my way past them, ignoring the looks of mafia agents who often frequented here.

My lips curved into a fiendish grin as I tracked down my next prey, a lot more distraught than previous targets. A few nights he'd left with mafia girls, his tall figure often dressed expensively enough that it was easy to spot him as a filthy rich mafia boy from a mile away.

Tonight he looked rather miserable in some corner in a loose white shirt, his features looking partially illuminated by the subdued neon lights of the bar. The outline of sculpted muscles was visible through his shirt and his expression seemed to be one of permanent exhaustion as he bent over a mixture of coloured cocktails he clearly showed no interest in.

It felt like a good night to 'run into' him- preferably with my dagger and bonus points for myself if he stopped breathing. But he was nothing more than bait for me to lure the real prize.

I almost pitied him for how miserable he looked, and perhaps if he had been someone else I supposed I could have found his dark curls attractive. But not him- for he was my enemy just as the others. The air of despondence around him was pathetic- I'd partially been hoping for more of a fight, for him to know he'd drained his last reserves and was still no match against me. 

I sauntered over to the bar he sat at, my ears threatening to burst from the monotonous beat of the music. His face was accented by the flashing hues of colour from the lights as he paid no attention to me- his first mistake.

I let my fingers play with my burgundy hair, the embodiment of a besotten girl desperate for his attention.

His glance to his side at me showed little interest, his face a mask of pain.

I schooled my sharp features into calmness, plastering on the crooked smile that was often enough to gain temporary trust before I slit the throats of countless enemies.

"You drink like a mafia man." I chuckled with distaste, taking a sip from his glass of alcohol strong enough to set my lungs on fire.

I frowned at his nonchalance- killing him would have been more thrilling if he was begging me in the end.

"I don't want to know who you are." He began to dismount from the bar stool as I grabbed his wrist with enough force to stop him in his tracks.

The glass shattered in his hands, sending shards of glass spraying at my face as I pivoted in an attempt to sweep his legs.

I almost didn't see his lazy right hook swinging towards my face as he hissed at me, his aim slightly askew from the alcohol as his face blanched with well-contained fear. 

I pouted, letting out a small mocking laugh at the sight of him. 

My knife was at his throat in a heartbeat, his slender fingers gripping my arm in pathetic resistance as he groaned like a wounded animal. His body writhed against mine as I held him in that position with my unyielding grip, moving my lips to his ear to ensure he heard every word I hissed at him.

"My name is Myra you asshole. And I think it's time for us to get to know each other better, Domino Castellanos."

___

Thanks for reading this chapter- see you soon :)