Belladonna (Tom Holland)

Three

    Tom offered me his cigar and I found myself accepting it. I hadn't had one in years, but tasting the sweetness of it brought me back to my high school days. I took a drag and gave it back as I released the cloud of smoke. Tom watched me in interest as I did so and I began to wonder if he laced it with something. I put that thought aside almost as soon as it came to fruition. He needed me. For as long as I was needed, I was invincible.

    "Harrison wants to kill you, you know," Tom said after a moment's silence, "He wasn't fond of your outburst. Hurt his pride." "Am I supposed to feel remorse?" I asked, "He killed my family. I'm sure his pride can take a hit." "Speaking of your family, I want to delve into that while I have you," He left his position at his desk and walked behind me. I felt as if I was being interrogated again and that within seconds I would be bound hand and feet for what seemed like the umpteenth time today. He then sat down behind his desk and put his elbows on the wood, leaning in with interest. "Your father was Freddy Dante, am I correct?"

    "Now, don't stab me, but that is a dumb question," I said, "Of course Freddy Dante is my father." A smirk flickered on his face before he opened his drawer and revealed my best friend, the Bowie knife. "As much as I loved having you at my mercy, Miss Dante, I prefer to speak to you in a cleaner manner than before, wouldn't you agree?" "This will be the only time we reach an agreement," I said and he clicked his tongue. "I'm quite a persuasive man with or without my weapons. I'm sure we'll reach an accord in the near future. Now tell me, what's your relationship with Lorenzo Biancatti?"

I shrugged, "He was like family." "He was also the one that helped get you into the Program?" Flashes of that night reappeared in my mind. I wasn't traumatized by them, however, it just replayed like a movie I'd seen a million times.  At this point I didn't know whether to consider my parents' deaths traumatic still. If you don't feel anything, what does it mean? "Yeah," my mind was elsewhere now, I didn't notice him taking notes of my answers.

    "You were in the program for how many years? Six?" He asked and I nodded, "What were you able to do?" "It wasn't much. I changed my name and couldn't be in any school photos. I wasn't allowed to have close friends in this age of social media nor could I have the same phone for more than two months. College was a bit easier since there were more people and professors didn't know your name until the last day of their class. I blended in and got myself a degree that wouldn't stick out. I even dumbed myself down so I didn't risk my chances of being in the newspaper. If anything I became a master hider."

    Tom finished his cigar and placed it on the ashtray as he wrote. I had no idea of the significance of my words, this just felt like another day at the therapist. "How did you find me?" I spoke after about a minute of silence. Tom stopped his writing and kept his eyes on me. "Why? Afraid you're not the ghost you thought you were?" "More or less out of curiosity. I thought after a year or two everyone would forget about me. Why turn up after six years?"

    "We knew where you were ever since you were put in the program," Tom answered, "It was the first thing I wanted to do when I took over: find and kill you. But I was young and rash and my father told me to wait and so I did, but I never took my eyes off of you, Miss Dante. I figured when the timing was right we would pop in and say hello before returning you to your former life." "Why now, then? What's so serious that you bring up a former mafia princess?" I was intrigued and frightened. I was never really safe. Throughout all these years they watched me, waiting. Tom wanted me dead ever since he heard my name and here I was, sitting in front of him. I was practically a celebrity to him, if you put it in perspective. Here he was, a seventeen year old kid getting trained to lead the largest organization in the world, tasked with tracking down the daughter of Biancatti's hand. He probably knew my Social Security number better than I did.

    Whatever expression was on Tom's face before I asked the question died and was replaced with one filled with unbridled rage. When he spoke, his voice became quiet, but not soft. "It seems that you and I have something in common, Miss Dante." He didn't elaborate, but I knew exactly what he meant. His family was dead. I had no words; I was in shock. Someone successfully killed Tom Holland's family, restarting the war, first ended with my family's death. Here we both were, orphans sitting across from one another.

    "You have a lot of enemies," I spoke softly, "What makes you think it was the Biancattis?" "The way they died," he answered, "It was the same way your parents died. A five star restaurant, a substitute host. The only difference is that my siblings weren't spared." I didn't know how to react- I did actually, but it wasn't appropriate in front of the man who held my life in his hands. He was expecting pity from me, but I had none to give. He killed my parents, took everything away from me, and forced me to leave my life behind. Of course, I felt nothing for him. If I were a less forgiving person, I would have told him karma was a bitch.

    "So you wanted to apologize?" I asked. However, he didn't have the same sense of humor I did. "You have no idea the things I wanted to do to you when they died, Miss Dante. I wanted to invent the tenth circle of Hell. I wanted to leave you in a ditch with absolutely no way for anyone to recognize you. But you got lucky. You moved away when my rage was at its worst so when I found you, I had everything planned." "

    "This isn't a villainous monologue, is it?" I asked, this time getting a laugh from him. "I'll keep it short. I'm sending you back to the Biancattis, but only to give me information. I have an inside man within their facilities, you'll stay with him until next week. There's a meeting at the nightclub, Wonderland. You're going to extract some important information I need and return back to me. It takes baby steps to break down an organization, Miss Dante."

    "What makes you think I'll go along with this plan of yours? Or that it'll even work?" I folded my arms across my chest, curious to what he had to say. He couldn't be that naive just to let me loose in the Biancatti organization. "During the many times you were unconscious, Harrison put a tracker in your neck that tells me of your whereabouts and records your audio. One wrong move and it will self destruct, killing you immediately," Tom explained, "I recommend you not kill yourself before the Wonderland meeting. It'd be a waste."

    "Don't you think it suspicious that I show up after six years, begging to be part of the organization when I had no knowledge of it before I disappeared?" I asked, "That's begging for my cover to be blown." "You majored in writing, yes? So you can tell stories," Tom said, "Invent a cover story they wouldn't question. After all, it's your life on the line, not mine." He then stood up and made his way to the door, but not without stopping behind me, grabbing the back of my neck forcefully. His thumb was pressed to the side, hard enough that it was sure to leave a bruise. He then leaned in so he could whisper, his lips tickling my ear. "You belong to me now, Miss Dante. I hope you remember that for the duration of your stay," he said before releasing me and helping me up from the chair. "It's always a pleasure doing business," he said, a faux smile painted on his face, "Harrison will help you with your things. I expect great things from you."

Don't forget to vote, comment, that good stuff.

~Not edited~