★★Leon's POV★★



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The air buzzed with soft chatter, the clinking of champagne glasses blending with the distant hum of classical music. I stood beside Mariella, pretending to give a damn about whatever overpriced crap they were auctioning off. Events like these were all the same—rich assholes flaunting their wealth, tossing money around just to say they did.

Then, Elena's voice rang through the speakers.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we now move on to a truly exceptional piece—an original Banksy. A rare and thought-provoking work from the anonymous street artist, known for his raw social commentary."

My interest barely flickered. Art wasn't really my thing. But beside me, Mariella straightened, her eyes locking onto the stage.

Huh. That was new.

The sheet was pulled back, revealing the painting, and for the first time, I actually looked at it. It was dark, layered—defiant, like something that had a real story behind it. Not just some pretentious bullshit someone threw paint at.

"Bidding starts at one million."

I barely paid attention as hands shot up.

"One point two million." "One point three." "One point four."

Then, next to me, Mariella lifted her paddle. "One point five million."

I glanced at her, surprised. There was something different in her expression—serious, focused. I'd never seen her care about something at one of these events before.

And for no reason at all, I lifted my paddle. "Two million."

Her head snapped toward me so fast I thought she might get whiplash. "Are you serious? " she hissed.

I smirked. "What? It's a nice piece."

She narrowed her eyes. "You don't even like Banksy."

I shrugged, playing dumb. "Sure, I do. Very... rebellious. Has, you know, paint."

She groaned, rubbing her temples. "Leon, I actually care about this. I want to donate the money to the animal shelters."

I bit back a grin. So that's what this was about.

"I do too," I said smoothly.

She scoffed. "Name one shelter this event is funding."

I paused for a second, then smirked. "The one with the animals?"

Her eyes flared. "Insufferable."

"And yet, here we are," I said, enjoying this way too much.

"Two point five million."

Mariella gasped. "Leon, stop!"

"You stop."

"You're only doing this to mess with me!"

"Obviously."

Her nostrils flared, her fingers gripping her paddle like she was about to use it as a weapon. "Three million."

I had to fight the laugh bubbling in my chest. She was fuming. Actually fuming.

Damn, I liked seeing her like this.

I leaned in, my lips close to her ear. "You really want this, huh?"

"Yes, you absolute menace!" she whispered back.

I grinned. "Alright, then."

She let out a breath like she'd won—but before she could get too comfortable, I lifted my paddle again. "Three point five million."

"LEON!"

The audience chuckled at our exchange, clearly entertained.

She was furious now, her chest rising and falling, her grip tightening on the paddle. Her glare could have melted steel. "Four million," she growled.

I exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking my head. Damn. She really wanted it.

I could have kept going. Hell, I didn't care about the money. But something about the way she was looking at that painting—like it actually meant something—made me pause.

"Sold! Four million to the lady with the fire in her eyes!"

The room applauded. Mariella let out a triumphant breath, finally relaxing.

I turned to her, smirking. "You really just spent four million just to beat me?"

She turned, her lips curling into a victorious smirk. "Worth every penny."

The applause was dying down, and Mariella still had that victorious glint in her eyes as if she'd just conquered a kingdom. She was glowing, a satisfied little smirk playing on her lips as she crossed her arms.

Four million dollars. Jesus.

Then, Elena made her way down from the stage, strutting toward us with that knowing smirk of hers. She barely glanced at me before looking straight at Mariella.

"You two actually fight like a married couple," she teased, arms crossed.

Mariella scoffed, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Not even close."

Elena hummed, unconvinced. "Sure, sure." Then, she tapped Mariella's arm lightly. "I'll have the painting wrapped and sent to you. You can take it home tonight."

Mariella's face lit up in pure joy, and for a second, I forgot about the whole auction. It wasn't often I saw her this genuinely happy.

"Really?" she asked, like a kid on Christmas morning.

Elena laughed. "Of course. You did just fight tooth and nail for it."

Mariella turned to me, grinning like she'd just won the lottery. "See? That is how you do business."

I tilted my head. "Spending four million to prove a point?"

"To win," she corrected.

I smirked, leaning in. "Sure you didn't just want to impress me?"

She rolled her eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck in the back of her head. "Please."

Elena watched us with amusement before shaking her head. "Well, I'll leave you two lovebirds alone—"

Mariella groaned. "Oh my god."

I chuckled. "Don't fight it, princess. It's destiny."

Before she could throw something at me, Damien and Antonio walked up, their expressions unimpressed as usual.

"You two really had to put on a show?" Damien sighed, taking a sip of his drink.

Antonio smirked. "It was highly entertaining, though."

Mariella glared at them both. "I was serious about it!"

Damien raised a brow. "Mhm. And Leon?"

I smirked. "I just like to make her mad."

Antonio chuckled, shaking his head. "You're gonna get stabbed one day, you know that, right?"

I glanced at Mariella, who was still glaring at me, arms crossed, definitely plotting my murder.

"Wouldn't be the first time," I muttered.

****

By the time we stepped into the building of our headquarters, exhaustion was weighing on all of us. The charity event had drained whatever patience I had left for the night, and I was already looking forward to crashing on the nearest couch and shutting my eyes for a few hours.

But, of course, Antonio—who seemed to live life like he was constantly running on espresso and bad decisions—clapped his hands together and said, "Alright, just a couple of shots, yeah?" His grin was wide, eyes already sparkling with mischief.

The room collectively groaned.

"Read the room, man," Damien said dryly. "We look like we just survived a hostage situation."

Before anyone else could protest, Mariella piped up with far too much excitement. "I'm down!"

All of us turned to stare at her like she'd just suggested robbing a bank for fun. She kicked off her heels, sighing in relief, and stretched her arms above her head.

Damien scoffed, crossing his arms. "You guys are so predictable. Like, wow. I should start placing bets on your bad decisions." He rolled his eyes dramatically. "Go on, then—ruin your livers. I'll try to act surprised when you're all hungover tomorrow."

Antonio snickered. "Oh, come on, mother Damien, don't be like that."

Damien held up a hand. "Correction—stepmother Damien. I would never claim you two as my own."

I smirked, shaking my head, but then Damien turned to me, raising a brow. "Not that it matters, since Leon isn't gonna join you degenerates."

That got Antonio and Mariella's attention. In perfect sync, they both turned toward me with identical expressions of challenge.

I met their stares with a blank one of my own, shrugging off my jacket.

Mariella tilted her head, her grin growing. "Come on, old man," she taunted, her voice sweet but smug.

Antonio burst out laughing. "Yeah, gramps, you need your beauty sleep?"

I glared at them both, but Mariella only doubled down. Her big, blue, way-too-dangerous eyes blinked up at me, all innocence and manipulation. "Pleaseeee," she dragged out, exaggerating the plea, practically batting her lashes.

Oh, for fuck's sake.

I sighed, rubbing my temple. She had no idea how unfair she was.

"Fine," I muttered, rolling my shoulders. Then I looked at Damien, smirking. "Come on, baby brother."

He instantly narrowed his eyes. "No."

Mariella grinned. "What he said," she chirped, nudging him.

Damien groaned, glancing between all of us like he was reconsidering every life choice that had brought him to this moment. Then, finally, he huffed. "Ugh. Fine. But if Antonio tries to convince us to dance on the tables, I'm leaving you all for dead."

Mariella and Antonio whooped in victory, practically jumping up and down like kids who just got away with sneaking cookies before dinner.

I shook my head, amused despite myself, and we made our way toward the living room. This was either going to end in disaster or be the highlight of the night.

Probably both.

I sank into the couch, spreading my legs apart with my arms draped lazily over the backrest, watching as Antonio grabbed a bottle of tequila in one hand and Tito's vodka in the other. Mariella trailed behind him, balancing four shot glasses like she was carrying something sacred.

She set them down in the center of the coffee table, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

Antonio grinned as he filled up the glasses. "Alright, let's make this interesting."

I raised a brow. "How interesting are we talking?"

"But first—bottoms up." He smirked, raising his shot.

We all grabbed ours, clinking them together before downing them in one go. The liquor burned its way down my throat in that familiar, satisfying way. Antonio groaned dramatically, while Mariella made a disgusted face, sticking her tongue out. Damien? He just sat there, completely unfazed, like he'd just taken a sip of water.

Antonio rolled his shoulders, grabbing four apples from a nearby fruit bowl. "Alright, here's the game." He set them down in a row on the table. "You take a knife and strike the apple. But we're playing in teams of two. Losers take two shots each."

Mariella's eyes sparkled with interest as she shook her head, amused.

Damien groaned. "I'm not good with knives."

"That's why you're gonna be partners with Mariella since she's good." Antonio smirked, pointing at her.

Damien scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Oh, great. We'll be unstoppable."

Mariella clapped her hands together, completely ignoring Damien's sarcasm. "Our team name is..." She tapped her chin, pretending to think hard before gasping dramatically. "Stabitha & The Fruit Ninjas!" She grinned, looking way too proud of herself.

Antonio burst out laughing. "Oh my god—what?"

Damien groaned, rubbing his temples. "I regret everything."

Mariella just winked. "Too late, partner. We're iconic now."

I smirked as Damien looked at me, unimpressed. "You owe me," he muttered.

"Loosen up, brother," I said with a grin. "The night's just getting started."

Antonio clapped a hand on my shoulder. "Me and Leon are teaming up."

"Alright, ready?"

Mariella saluted playfully. Then her eyes flicked to mine, full of that fiery competitiveness I'd come to love about her. I smirked, tilting my head.

"I hope your aim is good, baby."

Her eyes narrowed slightly, her lips curving into a smirk of her own. "You're about to find out, Grim Reaper."

I chuckled at the nickname. She was confident. I liked that.

Our gazes locked, the tension thick enough to cut with the very knives we were about to throw.

This was going to be fun.

The air in the room was thick with tension as Damien and I locked eyes. Neither of us moved for a second, silently measuring each other. I could feel the competitive fire between us—his glare sharp and calculating, mine calm but simmering with a quiet intensity. It wasn't just about the game. It was about pride.

Damien lifted his knife to eye level, mirroring my stance. The room fell silent, everyone watching us, waiting for that first move.

"Fire," Antonio said, breaking the stillness, his voice full of energy.

Without hesitation, both of us swung our knives. I knew exactly what I was doing. The blade flew through the air, and with a satisfying thud, it struck the center of the apple, splitting it cleanly in half.

Damien's knife, on the other hand, missed its mark entirely. It stuck to the wall above the apple with a dull thunk.

I couldn't help but snicker quietly under my breath, watching as Damien cursed under his breath, eyes narrowing at me.

"Guess you need some practice, huh?" I couldn't resist the taunt, letting the words roll off my tongue with a casual smugness.

Damien shot me a mocking look. "Just wait until it's your turn against Mariella, Leon." He didn't bother to hide the irritation in his voice, but it only made the win feel that much sweeter.

Antonio clapped his hands together, grinning. "Wow, one point for us!" he said, clearly excited. "Nice job, Leon."

Damien huffed, clearly not ready to let it go.

I flashed a grin over at Mariella, still standing there with her competitive fire in full force. "What's wrong, darling? Not used to losing?" I teased, leaning back with that smug look on my face, eyes never leaving hers.

She rolled her eyes, clearly not amused by my jab. But then, before I could even register it, she grabbed my knife from my hand, her fingers brushing mine in the process, and she met my gaze with a quiet intensity.

"Leon" she said softly, voice laced with challenge, "Enjoy the victory while it lasts. Because it's not going to last very long."

I raised an eyebrow, smirking. "I think I'll be just fine, baby," I leaned in, blowing her an exaggerated air kiss before pulling back and letting her take her position.

She just shot me a look—half-annoyed, half-amused—and placed the knife loosely between her fingers, like she was born for this.

Antonio was next, preparing his knife with his usual carefree energy, his eyes darting between the rest of us. But I couldn't help but keep my focus on Mariella.

"Shoot," I said, a little too smugly, and immediately, both she and Antonio swung their knives.

Mariella's knife made a sharp, satisfying swish through the air, and before anyone could blink, it was buried halfway into the wall, the apple crushed against it with a solid thunk.

Antonio's knife, on the other hand, dropped harmlessly to the floor with a soft clink.

I couldn't help but laugh at the sight of Antonio groaning in defeat, his face flushed with frustration. Meanwhile, Mariella danced in victory, her smile as bright as ever, looking like she'd just won the world.

"Bullseye, stronzo, (bitch)," she called out, tossing me a playful smirk.

I couldn't hide the smile that tugged at my lips, despite myself. But I wasn't about to let her get away with it so easily. "Yeah, yeah, lucky shot." I rolled my eyes dramatically, but she didn't let it slide.

She threw me an exaggerated air kiss, mocking me, and I just shook my head, grinning. She had this way of getting under my skin, and it only made me want to challenge her even more.

Damien burst out laughing, clearly enjoying the drama between Antonio and me. He clapped Antonio on the back, giving him a sarcastic pep talk. "Wow, I didn't know you sucked that much, Tony."

Antonio shot him a look, his pout deepening. "Don't talk so soon, Damien. Leon is still on," he said, trying to redeem himself, but his tone was far from convincing.

I shot him a smug grin, fully aware that the next round was mine to win. "Let's see what happens next, shall we?" My eyes flicked to Mariella, who was still glowing from her victory, and I couldn't help but lean forward slightly, the challenge in my voice unmistakable. "You may have won the first round, but the night's still young."

She shot me a look full of defiance, her eyes narrowed in a way that said she was ready for more. "Bring it on, Reaper."

Antonio clapped his hands together with way too much excitement, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Alright, I'm switching it up. We're using blindfolds."

Before I could even react, he reached behind him like some kind of magician and pulled out two black blindfolds.

I narrowed my eyes. "Where the hell did you get those?"

Antonio waved me off, acting way too suspicious. "Let's not worry about that," he said quickly, a little too defensive.

Oh?

Damien side-eyed him too, but Mariella, of course, didn't care. She was already grabbing her blindfold and tying it over her eyes, ready to go. I sighed and did the same, adjusting the fabric over my face.

Everything went black. But it didn't matter. I had a clear sense of where the apple was before I put the blindfold on. As long as I didn't move a muscle and repeated my last motion exactly, I'd make the shot.

"Ready?" Antonio asked, his voice dripping with amusement.

Before I could respond, Mariella beat me to it. "Ready for Leon to take the L? Then yes."

I scoffed. "Keep talking, princess," I muttered.

She giggled, which was both cute and irritating at the same time.

Antonio didn't give me a chance to respond. "Alright, 3... 2..."

I took a deep breath, steadying my grip.

"1."

I flicked my wrist, feeling the knife slip out of my fingers, cutting through the air. A solid thump echoed in the room.

But then—gasps.

"Oh shit," Damien mumbled under his breath.

Antonio whistled low.

I yanked off my blindfold, blinking a few times as my vision adjusted. My eyes snapped to the target. My knife was right above the apple, barely missing it by maybe a damn centimeter.

Fuck.

I clenched my jaw, suppressing a groan.

Then I turned to Mariella's side.

Her knife? Dead center through the apple. Sliced clean through, buried deep into the wall.

Are you fucking kidding me?

Mariella gasped dramatically, then jumped up and down, cheering way too loud. "BULLSEYE, BABY!" she yelled, grinning from ear to ear. She turned to me, practically glowing in victory, and smirked. "Well, well, Reaper, looks like death just took an L for once," she teased, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief.

I sighed, rolling my shoulders back like I wasn't bothered. "Yeah, yeah," I muttered. "But let's be real—what kind of psycho can aim that well blindfolded?"

She batted her lashes innocently. "Maybe I'm just better than you."

I scoffed. "Or maybe you cheated."

Antonio cut in, shaking his head. "Nah, man. She destroyed you, fair and square." He patted my shoulder, clearly enjoying this too much. "Now, shots."

I exhaled through my nose, dragging a hand down my face. "Right."

Antonio grabbed the bottle of tequila and poured two shots for himself and me.

Mariella, still riding high on her win, leaned in close as I grabbed my shot glass. "Aww, don't pout, Leon," she cooed. "You still look very handsome when you lose."

I turned my head slightly, locking eyes with her. "Careful, Mariella," I said lowly, letting my voice drop just enough. "Your little victory dance might get you in trouble."

She tilted her head, biting her lip, her expression playful. "Promise?"

I shook my head with a smirk before throwing back the shot. The liquor burned down my throat, but it wasn't nearly as hot as the tension still crackling between us.

Antonio poured more drinks, the sound of liquor sloshing against the glass filling the room. The initial thrill of the game had settled, leaving behind the comfortable haze of alcohol and warmth of shared company. I leaned back against the couch, watching Mariella as she nursed her drink, her fingers idly tracing the rim of the glass. She was still glowing from her win, but there was something softer in her expression now—something... different.

Antonio, as nosy as ever, couldn't help himself. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Alright, I gotta ask," he said, eyes flicking between Mariella and the knives still embedded in the wall. "How the hell are you that good with knives? That wasn't just luck."

Damien hummed in agreement, swirling his drink. "Yeah, I've seen skilled people, but blindfolded bullseyes? That's something else."

Mariella tilted her head, a small smirk playing on her lips. "Wouldn't you like to know?" she teased, taking a sip of her drink.

Antonio groaned. "Yes! That's why I asked."

She chuckled, setting her glass down. For a second, she hesitated, like she was debating whether or not to actually tell us. Then, with a slow breath, she leaned back into the couch, stretching out her legs. "I had practice. A lot of it," she finally admitted. "A couple of years back, when I was younger, I spent time in Japan. I trained there."

That caught my attention. I studied her as she spoke, noticing the way her fingers lightly drummed against her thigh.

Damien raised a brow. "Japan?"

She nodded. "Yeah. But my father didn't send me—I went on my own. He doesn't even know about it." She glanced at her drink, swirling it absentmindedly. "I trained under some of the best. Knife work, hand-to-hand combat, the art of moving unseen. I learned how to strike quickly, efficiently. No wasted movement. No hesitation."

Antonio whistled. "Shit. And here I was thinking you just had natural talent."

Mariella smiled slightly. "That too."

I rested my forearms on my knees, intrigued. "And you still use it?"

She met my gaze, something sharp glinting behind her blue eyes. "More than you'd think."

The room grew quieter, the weight of her words settling in.

Then, almost casually, she added, "I've built my own little organization."

That got all of our attention.

Damien's brows furrowed. "Wait—what?"

Mariella exhaled, tapping a nail against the glass in her hand. "It started small. Just me, really. But I've been working on expanding it—recruiting people with the right skill sets, the right drive." Her lips curled into a small smile, but there was something dark underneath it. "I call it Serpente."

"Serpente," I repeated, the word rolling off my tongue. "Fitting."

She tilted her head, that amused spark in her eyes again. "You know why?"

I had a good guess. But I wanted to hear her say it.

She leaned in slightly, resting her chin on her hand. "Because I poison my knives."

Antonio's mouth parted slightly. "Holy shit."

Mariella chuckled, twirling a strand of her hair between her fingers. "It's a quick kill. Precise. Clean. And it gives me the thrill I need." Her voice lowered slightly. "I don't do it for fun, though." She took a slow breath, her gaze flickering toward the flickering candlelight on the table. "I do it for my mother. All of it is for her."

Silence stretched between us. Not the awkward kind, but the heavy, unspoken kind. The kind that meant something.

I watched her, the way her mask had slipped just enough to show the weight she carried. The vengeance that fueled her. And maybe—just maybe—the loneliness that had come with it.

But she wasn't alone anymore.

Damien was the first to break the silence. He raised his glass. "To your mother."

Antonio followed suit. "To Serpente."

I held her gaze as I lifted my glass. "And to you, Mariella."

She blinked at me, lips parting slightly, like she hadn't expected that. Then, slowly, she smiled—not the playful smirk she usually threw my way, but something real. Something rare.

We clinked our glasses together, the sound ringing through the dimly lit room.

And in that moment, I realized something.

Mariella wasn't just dangerous. She was unstoppable.

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She's finally opening up...

I tried to make this chapter cute and fun. <3 hope u like :)

Bye, lovies! (っ◔◡◔)っ

Maddie♡