Fallen Ashes |✔️

Mania

Venus

"Shit." I hissed at the aching in my neck, the blackness I'd awoken to. My futile attempt at escaping was a blur, the seemingly endless ambush of agents knocking me out and stripping me of every hidden weapon. 

The Italian crime boss had sold me out. 

I swore at him under my breath, judging by my bladder that only a few hours had passed. The sack they'd thrown over my head remained with each breath of mine feeling more suffocated, every thought remaining incomplete as I was left alone for my mind to drive me to insanity. 

From what I'd gathered, the guards were waiting for someone, likely a mafia boss wanting to make a spectacle out of my capture. My wrists had turned bloody during my hours of resisting against the rope and cable ties binding my hands- I wouldn't die like this. Not when I'd disappeared without Ash knowing where, not when part of me wanted to hear his stupid piano symphony, the annoyingly exquisite paintings he came out with. 

Perhaps Ash's father had sold me out to Vero- but with the long list of potential rivals who had set their sights on the red devil, it could have been anyone. My captor must have discovered my supposed allegiance with the Italians, the temporary safety I'd had in their mansion.  

I felt my heart drop to the floor as the sound of heeled boots against the unstable floorboards made me squirm with unease under the mask over my face. 

"Let her hear him." The cool voice of a woman ordered, her savage tone sounding somewhat similar to mine as I continued my attempt to curse and scream at her through the tape that had my mouth sealed. 

Somewhere behind me I heard a chair get dragged in, the sounds of another strangely familiar yet muffled voice struggling against the guards I couldn't see. 

Light invaded my vision as I hissed, the guard removing the sack off my head to tear off the tape as I spat on his face. "Bitch" He muttered whilst wiping his face, retreating to a corner as I still couldn't move my head. Or my hands. In fact, I couldn't manage any movement from any of my limbs, I realised with growing horror. 

"It's a paralytic." The voice of the same woman from somewhere in the dim room made my skin crawl- she must have been of a similar age to mine and just as dangerous. 

"You won't feel your limbs for at least another hour. Enough time for you to shit yourself whilst we pay a visit to your bastard of a father." 

I tried to form words yet I feared I would end up spitting and making a fool of myself. 

"Piss off." The familiar voice behind me struggled, the sounds of his chair groaning against the floorboards. 

"Domino?" I spluttered, my heart splintering at the brokenness in his voice as he called back my name. 

"W-what does this bitch want?" I stammered, cursing myself for how difficult it was to form each word. Perhaps a result of the paralytic- though my own blind fear was enough to choke me, knowing that Domino and I were both prisoners to an unidentified psycho bitch who wanted us dead. 

"Let me introduce myself... my name is Myra." I forced my neck to turn to the figure pacing the edge of the room, her mahogany hair which brushed against her shoulders becoming visible as she stood by a small window through which limited light trickled through. 

"You're American mafia." I audibly realised, recognising the sharp features, the crimson lips which could have been the blood of her victims. Her eyes appeared to be the same hue as mine, her facial expressions a twin to my own but containing a much deeper fury. I promised myself the red devil had nothing to fear from a desperate agent who hardly held any power the last time I'd seen her years ago. Father had always insisted on lengthy trips to the states whilst we were in Greece, and the permanently bitchy expression Myra was giving me looked familiar enough.