VI

"𝐈 don't have time for your games, Marco." I say, turning back around to the elevator we came up in. Suddenly, he grabs me and forcefully pushes me up against the wall to catch my attention, his other hand wrapping around my throat. I flinch from the impact as he slightly leans down so his face is in line with mine.

"You think this is a fucking game? The French are here, my team have notified me that they have been spotted on a CCTV camera outside. You wont know this but they have been working with the Mexican's for years." He explains.

I lift up my dress and pull out my gun that was hiding beneath it. Marco's eyes follow my every movement as I position it directly between his eyes. "Don't lie to me." I snap, hovering the gun around in the air.

"I wont repeat myself again, Lana." He contests, pushing me harder against the firm wall. I look away for a split second and when I look back, find the gun is now turned on me. His eyes go cold and he steps back. With brutal efficiency, he grabs me and spins me around, pressing me against the wall. He then grabs my hands and puts them behind my back, gripping them tightly. Suddenly, I feel the cold muzzle of a gun pressed onto my head.

"Is that supposed to scare me?" I ask, spinning myself around and kicking him hard, breaking free from his grip. The gun falls to the ground and I take this opportunity to grab it.

I point the gun back at him.

"Fuck you." I yell.

"You should slow down on that champagne." He says, pointing to my half empty glass. "Seems to be getting to your head."

I cock an eyebrow before reaching for the glass but Marco moves hastily and grabs it, drinking the remaining contents to irritate me. I step closer to him and trace my thumb across his champagne-wet lip, then seductively put it in my mouth and suck off the alcohol. I look up at him and sneer under my lashes. "I'm going to protect my family." I say.

"You will get yourself killed, Lana." He replies, still fazed from my previous action. "I don't care." I spit, before stepping back into the elevator. Marco tosses the glass across the room and quickly follows.

The elevator comes to a halt and I quickly spring out of it. My thoughts cannot process themselves before two men come running at me, both equipped with knives and guns. One of the two men throw a knife but I instantly duck and it pierces the wall behind me, just inches from Marco.

Next, the same man raises his gun. I quickly pull out mine, giving him no time to think, and shoot first. The bullet punctures it's way through the man's head, creating a gaping hole which instantly fills with blood. The other man throws another knife. This time it lands on the cold tiled floor a few inches before me.

"Shit aim." I remark, before picking up the knife and hauling it at him. The knife lands directly in the centre of his chest and blood erupts from it, dripping down his body. I watch in exhilaration as he falls in anguish. "Not bad." Marco remarks. "Yeah, not bad, just years of target practice." I boast before stepping over the bodies.

Both men were dead, that's for sure. I whip my head around to see Marco grabbing the gun from the pool of blood on the floor. He then carefully lifts the mens collars down to check for tattoos.

"Mexicans." He points out.

Of fucking course.

The Mexican's have always liked to be known as animals, wild animals. They say the title reflects the way they kill people mercilessly. They kill without thinking, innocent's lives are simply an inconvenience to them. Now that is the difference between me and them.

I actually use common sense before killing.

We walk a little more before reaching the end of the seemingly long hallway. "Try not to get yourself killed." Marco calls out before hurrying ahead. We both enter the ballroom to see blood arranged in splotches all over the flooring, staining the original white colour to a now cardinal tint. In a panic, I check for my family but quickly let out a sigh of relief when I notice them bunched together holding machine guns.

Bullets are flying everywhere and my family hold off one side of intruders while Marco's hold off the other side. I reach for my gun so I can help my family assassinate the invaders but quickly realise it is missing.

Shit. I must've left it in the hallway.

I quickly sneak out to the hallway to retrieve my gun when three substantial men come at me. They direct a few punches to my chest and I put up a good fight but quickly become overpowered. One of them holds my hands behind my back while another secures a duffel bag over my head.

Another blow hits the same spot in my stomach as I attempt to wriggle free from their grip. They drag me along the floor and black spots begin to overtake my vision. The last thing I remember before seeing darkness is feeling the cool breeze from outside against my skin.

***

I wake up and feel something is not right. I look around and do not recognise my surroundings. And that's when it hit me. The memories from last night come flooding back to me, all at once, taking control over my body.

All I remember is gunshots firing everywhere and bodies scattered all over the place. They must've drugged me, I have been out all night. I raise my hand to my throbbing head to seek some comfort but sigh in displeasure as I don't seem to get any. My head is pounding and a single line of blood trails down from a cut in my arm.

I attempt to move my other hand to soothe the pain from my wrist but briskly realise that it is chained to the bed. I use all the strength in me in attempt to break free but it's no use. The bed squeaks with movements but the chains just wont budge. My eyes stray towards the doorway and I notice a man who I am unfamiliar with, leaning against the doorframe.

I do recognise one thing though. The tattoo on his neck, he's with the Mexican's.

I try to analyse the situation in my head but am panicking and cannot think straight. I take a deep breath and count to ten in my head.

It's always the fucking Mexican's.

"What do you want?" I snap. The man lifts his arm to slap me but my quick reflexes take over and I catch it with my free hand. I slap him. Hard. "Fuck you, little bitch." He yells as he kicks me in the stomach. "Tell me what you want!" I demand, subsiding the trepidation and dismay I have.

"Nothing really with you." He says, biting down on a hot dog. It feels me with contentment to see he burns himself on it. "So why the hell am I here?!" I ask in anger.

He sighs and places his hot dog down on a napkin. He steps closer to me and perches down on the leather chair beside the bed. He crosses his arms over his chest and looks down at me with a victorious smile as if he had won some sort of game.

"Marco Cortez, name ring a bell?" He asks, scanning my face for answers. "Depends why you're asking." I reply. "Me and my family are going to take down his empire. His family have been after us for years and we want our revenge." He explains.

"What does that have to do with me?"I question, scooting back on the bed. "It actually has everything to do with you." He remarks. "I don't have time for this just tell me what you want!" I shout.

The man chuckles at my sudden outburst and leans forward on the chair. "Information on Marco and his family. I know you two have a past and I also know you are the reason he went to prison." I fall silent for a moment, unaware of what next to say. I struggle in the hold of the chain binding my left arm to the bed.

"And if I don't talk?" I ask. "You die." He snaps, grabbing a knife out of a nearby draw and lowering it to my throat. "Why didn't you just kidnap Marco and torture him for the information!?" I yell.

"He would die before he'd tells us anything." He explains. He was right. Marco would never tell these assholes anything. My eyes travel down to the mans hand and I notice a knife laying flatly on it.

Who holds a knife like that?!

With ease, I snatch the knife for him and hastily plunge it in the skin on his arm, he clutches his wound and stumbles down onto the bed. Blood gushes out all over the white sheets.

"Maltida perra." He groans, before death creeps upon him.

[Fucking bitch]

God. Men can be so annoying sometimes.

I roll my eyes and let out a little laugh. How stupid can someone get? Firstly not chaining both my arms to the bed and secondly holding a knife that way.

I can just about reach the knife that is sticking out of the mans arm, but don't have time to do anything with it before the sound of the door handle twisting snaps me out of my trance. A man walks in and freezes in place when he acknowledges the dead body on the floor. He mutters something into his walkie talkie and soon around four more guards flood into the room.

While most are fixated on the deceased man on the floor, I notice one pull out a needle and inject something into my already sore arm. I open my mouth to object but no sound escapes as my eyes flutter shut and I feel like I am falling into a void of nothingness.

------------------------------------------------------- Thanks for reading🤍

I wonder how Marco will react to all of this... Next chapter is in his POV so you can find out. 😋