There was blood on my hands.
It coated my skin like a satin glove and peppered my face like colored freckles. It was thick and warm. I rubbed my fingers through my palm and scrunched my nose at its stickiness. There was no one to wipe it on because, while my hands were a deep, ruby red, that same color adorned everyone else in the room. Not a single spotless space.
You—we can't! We just came back from all this...carnage! And you expect us to go back out for more? We're tired, we're hungry and we need rest. No more.
I looked down at the floor. The blood seeped into the crevices of the wooden planks, absorbing into everything that gave it way. It puddled around my boots, sticking to my soles as I made my way around the crimson pool.
Bodies littered the floor like they've been doing as of late. The sight was far from welcome, but had somehow turned into normal. Staring at the still-bleeding bodies of the people we killed and those of us who died, I can't bring myself to even bat an eye. I just hear the blood pumping in my ears and see red. Everywhere.
You see, darling, in this life you're either the butcher or the cattle. I love being butcher and I sure as hell won't mind making you deadstock. You in or out? Permanently.
They tried to stand up to me. I gave them a place to stay while we protected ourselves. I gave my people's life for this cause. All I asked for was cooperation and even then, they didn't want to give.
So I made them. In or out. Do or die. People don't get to choose to defy me anymore. I won't allow it. I am the only choice. Unless they count a bullet to the head as number two. Because it's utter shit.
So when half the room stood up to me, demanding why I'm sending them out to die, I let them know my change of heart. They don't get to walk away. They get to never walk again. Or breathe, for that matter.
I proved that point when seven still tried to come for me. Demanding, accusing, insulting. Click, clack, bang. My gun had seven less bullets and the room had more oxygen to spare. The others realized very quickly their new lack of choice. In half an hour I had three dozen men getting into jets and preparing for a brand new fight.
They can hate me. I don't give a shit.
Now, seeing a good half of those who had stood up to me with terror in their eyes, demanding me to fulfill my end of the bargain and keep them safe, I see they were kind of right. They did get sent here to die. Not purposefully, of course. Then again, it probably doesn't mean much to them. They got that bullet-to-head thing going on either way.
But we won and every enemy in this fucking wooden box is soaking up these floors with their blood. And shit, too. It stinks in here.
I holster my gun back, having to grip it extra hard to keep it from slipping. And now my holster is wet. Great.
The deeper into the cabin I go, the more the pile of bodies grows. Some are still breathing and moaning, so I take care of them as I inspect for any loose lambs. And when I'm done and all counted sixty five of theirs are deader than dead, I head back.
The sweet smell of metal and sweat that blood emits sweeps over me as I cross through the cabin once more. It weighs on my clothes and skin, beginning to dry and creating a giant scab all over me.
Onr of my men, also coated in blood from head to toe—blood from the previous battle and new blood from right now—opens the door to the basement as I approach.
The wooden stairs creak under my feet, warning those inside of my return. All the murmuring ceases as I reach the bottom of the steps and every pair of eyes is on me.
All but one.
A laugh so wicked I could have feared it had it come from someone else came out of me. Typical villain's giggle. Oh, the joy.
"Look at me," I cooed, nothing short of mockery and contempt dripping from my words.
Normally I'd keep it cool and emotionless. But fuck if I gave a damn now.
"Look at me," I repeated.
"Fine, if I'm too uninteresting to look at, then look at them instead."
I snapped my fingers and in came my little sacrifice.
Twenty Seven Hours Prior
"Julieta." I knocked on the door.
Julieta jumped, spinning around to greet me. "Boss! Hello. How may I help?"
I walked inside the room. Computers adorned every small space. I had never bothered to pay much attention to the Eyes. They were Gabriel's people and Gabriel's responsibility. I had sovereignty over them, but rarely ever used it.
Now they were very much my problem.
"Actually, yes. If you found where he resided and his double life with the alias, you think you can figure out if he has, I don't know, anyone close to him?"
The request took a second to sink in. Julieta snapped her fingers once it did, going to her computer and typing away. I looked around the room, my mind humming with all the little traces of Gabriel's touch and influence.
He never used natural light. The windows stayed closed and the curtain remained drawn. Half the light bill was his fault. And the coffee, tea, and hot chocolate pots on the table at the back of the room. He thought of something for everyone. And—
"I had actually thought of covering all the bases, in case for some reason you guys didn't manage to get him at his own cabin. So I had the team deep dive into everything about Donnie Marino. And we found that he has two people he frequents with. A man and his boy. The funny thing is, they're pretty well-known."
That piqued my interest. I lifted an eyebrow at her wording. "Funny why?"
"Well," she paused, cheeks growing pink at whatever she was going to say. "Mr. Lombardi had me as his right hand in the team. He told me a lot of things that went on as context for many of our searches. In one those he told me about the traitor countries that didn't join your side when you gave the ultimatum."
I tapped my nails on the table, taking in the new information. "Hmm. Yapper mouth, that one. Who would have guessed?"
She didn't utter a word, looking at me as if she tried to decipher my next move.
"Alright. Then what?"
Julieta blew out a breath. "We kept tabs on those countries. Him and I mostly. Making sure how their organizations were doing. Some died in the fights that have been organized because they, too, are being brought to fight. Ukraine is one of them. More than half their forces are gone. They're next to nothing now.
"Yet, one of the organizations that has been relatively untouched is the Chinese one. Most others have been somewhat affected so it struck me as strange. I looked into it and found nothing. But when I started looking for Donnie Marino, I found that Ru Tai Wang is an old friend of his.
"Marino's mother, Estelle Lombardi grew up poor, I found. She lived in slums most her life. At twenty-two, she got kidnapped and sold to a trafficking ring. It ended up in Russia. After two years, she was bought by a Chinese family. It was Wang's grandparents. Estelle was pregnant with Donatello by then. I could never find who the father could be. But Wang's grandparents bought her with the intention of having her partake in sex work. Being pregnant, I'm guessing she couldn't. It gets hazy after that, but she ends up working directly for the Wangs.
"Donatello was brought up by the Wangs as his family. His son, Gabriel's dad, was also brought up there. There's nothing about the mother anywhere. But he left. I don't know if it was escape. But he got back to Venice, where he met Gabriel's mother. They had Gabriel a year later. From the looks of it, Donatello Lombardi sees Ru Tai Wang as more of his son than his biological one. And to him, Wang's son is more of his grandchild than Gabriel himself. They meet at cafe's, spend nights over in the cabin and have reoccurring phone conversations."
All the information just sent my way glued me to the chair. I don't remember even sitting down, but there I was gripping the armrests.
Only one question crossed my mind. "Did...Did Gabriel know any of this?"
Julieta shook her head, eyes cast at the computer screen. "No. I found this out myself. Gabriel didn't ever say much about his family, but the bits he let out always pointed to the same. He knew as far as his parents being murdered instead of killed in an accident."
I nod, my tongue sticking to my mouth. Resentment builds in my chest too fast for me to do anything about it. And the hate floods inside me until my conscience chokes on it.
"Do you know where they are? Wang and his kid?"
Julieta's wide eyes met mine. I kept my face cool, enough for her to get back to her task. "They haven't been to China in a while. They visited Donatello some time before...before he came here. I tracked them to Greece in a vacation spot."
My eyes went wide. "Greece?"
"Yes, ma'am."
I'll be damned. "You have an exact location?"
"I've been following their every movement since I found out." She clicked on a page in her computer. An image of a boy in a beach appeared, through the lens of a cell phone camera. He was laughing as he caught a ball. I clenched my fists. "At the beach right now."
Standing, I nodded. "Send it to me. We're revising the plan. Let everyone know."
"Of course, Boss."
"Good work."
Now
Donatello Lombardi's eyes raked up, emotionless and in-control. I let my grin show, reveling at the sight of the exact moment where that assurance wavered, then fought to remain, and failed terribly. His blue eyes, so familiar it made me want to puke, overcame with horror.
I made my way to Ru Tai Wang and his boy, a little jump to my step. Diego had them chained at the neck, like I'd asked. I watched as Diego and Carlos looped the chains over a pipe on the ceiling and tested the durability. Both choked for a single second before I ordered my men to release.
"Oh," I laughed Donatello's eyes on me, placing a hand to my chest. "Am I interesting enough now?"
My hand came over the boy's head, patting his thick, black hair. He squirmed under my touch, choking on the chains every time he tried to escape it. I ignored the glare Donatello sent my way. "It totally makes sense why Mr. Wang here declined my offer to destroy you all. Hah! Look where it got y'all."
"Kill me," Wang spat, trying and failing to turn and look at me. The chains cut the skin on his throat enough to prevent him from moving any more. Diego, you tyrannical fuck. Got a little carried away, eh? Genius. "Don't kill my son."
I gasped, walking ahead to meet his eyes. "What makes you think I'm going to kill your son?"
He only glared at me. I grinned. "Horrible actress, I know."
"Sia."
I turned to Nicolas, who had been standing there the entire time, waiting patiently for this very moment. Blood colored his skin like paint, dripping from his hair and neck. He didn't feel like using guns. I went against the notion until we actually arrived. The urge to kill with my own hands won over. Our knives had to be dull by now. All the better.
He said nothing more, but the meaning was well conveyed. Wrap it up.
I nodded at both of them. Veronica stood further into the basement, barely noticeable in the dark. She said she had to be here and I get that. But she couldn't bring herself to participate. She said she didn't want to be covered in blood, but it was fear in her eyes. By the time it happened, I was too preoccupied to question her.
"I am going to kill your son," I say to Wang. The boy's face morphs into something between fear and sorrow. I turn to Donatello, who's trying hard to suppress the same feelings.
"And I'll have you watch."
Donatello shakes his head, straining against the rope around his body and knives pressed to his neck. "He has nothing to do with this. Neither of them, too."
"Now that's a lie," I quip. "Wang would have died sooner or later. This just makes it more fun. The kid, however... Tell me, motherfucker, is he who you wish Gabriel was?"
He has the audacity to look guilty for a second, but it quickly vanishes, reminding me what Gabriel meant to him. Fucking nothing. I'm going to bleed him to death.
"Gabriel was—"
"Don't you fucking say his name." I'm surprised when the same phrase comes out of the three of us, each with enough venom to kill.
Donatello gulps before talking again. "I tried with him. To teach him our ways, but he didn't meet the expectations. He latched onto your family, abandoning his own just like my worthless son. I wanted to change him—"
"Shut the fuck up," I say, yanking the knife from Carlos' hand and holding it to Donatello's throat, poking just enough to draw a steady stream of blood. "Shut your fucking mouth."
Taking the silence as my cue, I kept going, feeling every word like gasoline to a raging fire inside me. "I'm so sick of hearing your stories. You never deserved me, or him or Mateo. You, Angelo and Michael deserved nothing but death. I've given it to two of you and I'll do it to you too. So, I'll give you a courtesy I didn't give the others. Call it a good deed," I shrugged.
"Any last words?"
Pure hatred filled his eyes as he spat a response at me. "Michael made a mistake with you."
I hooted, grinning the entire time as I trotted behind Wang and the boy. Both their bodies tensed, one in alarm and the other with his uncontrollable crying. Someone needs to tell this little shit to zip it. "You are so fucking right," I say back, feeling every word deep in my gut.
I motion for one of my men to raise the chain. Donatello begins to curse and fight against his restraints as the chains strangle Wang, lifting him off the ground until he's right by my face. I lean into his ear, whispering so only he can hear.
"You should have chosen me."
The screams of Donatello and the boy drown out the sounds of Wang kicking and choking. Five excruciating moments of a family being destroyed. I wait until the moment Wang's body goes limp and order for him to be released. His body plops on the ground, the chain rattling as it falls over him. With my eyes on Donatello, I step over the body and stop right where his spit can't land on me. Can't be too careful.
His eyes burn through me, but I revel in their hatred. With a smile on my face, I say, "that one wasn't the real show. That was me getting back at him for choosing the wrong side. The real performance is coming right up. Diego," I throw over my shoulder.
The sounds of the chain rattling and the sight of Donatello as his face fills up with anguish and desperation is like a little prize. His eyes go from the boy behind me to mine, curse after curse spewing out of him. The wooden chair groans every time he jerks against it, trying and failing to get away. I only smile and, when I hear the chains stop rattling, I lean in. Donatello's face battles between grief and anger, the boy and me.
"Where are your nine circles now?"
The response, if there was any, never came. In a flash, Nicolas comes up and grabs Donatello by the hair, yanking his head back. Leaning in, Nicolas holds one of those blunt knives to his throat and says, "burn, motherfucker."
Nicolas steps back and pulls out another knife. Donatello's head stays back, breathing harder with every second. Holding both knives over his head, Nicolas' face contorts in anger so strong it makes me stagger. Never in my life have I seen him act so brutal. Everyone in the room is reduced to spectator as he curls his lip and brings both knives down, each one sinking into the eye sockets of Donatello Lombardi.
I flinch, my eyes shutting for a moment as the screams of agony, grief and pain drown out every noise. They echo and bounce in my brain endlessly. And then silence comes and the image of Gabriel clenching his fists and standing tall as the blood poured from his throat comes so fast that I'm snapped out of that moment.
I reach into my pocket, pulling out the blindfold I'd been carrying since it happened. The screams don't stop. Donatello screams and shrieks as he cries blood. Shut. Up. With the knife I took before, I slit his throat, replacing the very screams with the muffled sounds of him gurgling on his own blood.
Slowly, as carefully as I can, I wrap the blindfold over his eyes, unconsciously shushing him as he chokes. Shh. Shh, shh, shh. Shhh.
He falls limp into the chair, blindfold over his face. It quickly becomes damp with blood, dripping down his cheeks like tears.
It feels like shit, I realize in that moment. Not sweet revenge or a satisfactory punishment. Just empty. A scorching fire eating through everything inside me. Now there was nothing left.
Just ashes.