★★Mariella's POV★★



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I can feel my patience thinning out as Santino straps on his gloves, clearly not getting my concern. "Are you really sure you want to come?" I ask for the hundredth time, irritation creeping into my voice.

He barely looks up, adjusting his holster with exaggerated care, before throwing me a playful eye-roll. "Yeah, yeah, sis. I'll be fine. I mean, it's not like I'm gonna accidentally get shot or thrown off a building, right?" he says, a smirk tugging at his lips.

I'm trying to keep calm, but it's Santino. He's the kind of guy who can't even figure out the difference between a wrench and a hammer, and he collects car parts like it's some religious calling. "You know, the only thing you can fix is a sandwich. You can't even figure out your own phone half the time," I tease, watching as he finishes securing his gear.

"Ha, ha. Very funny," he fires back, smirking as he straps on his gun, clearly not taking me seriously. "I'm not five, alright? Enzo's been training me, so I'm basically a walking weapon. Don't worry, I'll be fine... unless you want me to start dismantling the whole car while we're on the road. Maybe I'll figure out how to make it fly. You never know with me." He winks, clearly enjoying the chaos he's about to cause.

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, I'll believe that when I see it."

Then, of course, there's Gio—my favorite overconfident headache. He steps into the room, looking far too smug for someone who's about to play chauffeur.

"Not you too," I mutter, realizing he's tagging along. "Gio, are you really coming?"

He looks over at me, cocking an eyebrow. "I'm driving, princess," he announces, and I'm already regretting the day I agreed to this.

"Great," I say, giving him a deadpan stare. "Just don't drive us off a cliff, okay? I like living."

"Wow, Mariella, how did you know?" Gio grins, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Maybe I'll flip the car just to add extra coolness to the day."

I raise an eyebrow, looking over at him with a deadpan expression. "Oh, please," I reply, rolling my eyes. "You're not that cool, Gio. You'd just end up wrecking the car and trying to make it look like part of your plan. But hey, if you flip it, at least we'll all go down in style."

Santino, still blasting his music, chimes in from the back, "Yeah, and we'll be trending on social media for the coolest crash ever."

Gio just laughs, pressing the gas down harder, making the car lurch forward. "Guess we'll find out."

"Ha ha ha, so funny," I deadpan, rolling my eyes. I can already tell this is going to be one of those days.

Santino, who's already in the car with the music cranked, shoots us a thumbs up. Gio slides into the driver's seat, a grin on his face. Then, with a twist of the wheel, we're speeding off, the engine purring as we zoom through the streets.

I glance over at Santino, who's already bobbing his head to some music, clearly in his own little world. "This is why I don't do family outings," I mutter under my breath, but I know it's useless to fight it now. We're in for the ride.

And knowing my luck, it's going to be a bumpy one.

The plan's in motion, and as usual, things are about to get interesting. I check my gear one last time—my knife secured in its sheath, my gun holstered and ready. Gio is on the other side of the hall, giving me a quick nod. Santino? He's still being Santino, blasting music through his earbuds, practically oblivious to the weight of the situation. But he'll pull through. He always does.

Eliseo's voice crackles through our earpieces. "Cameras disabled. Door's unlocked. You're good to go."

I exhale slowly, the tension of the mission settling into my bones. Time to get to work. Gio takes the lead, his usual confident stride echoing in the empty hallway. Santino trails behind, less silent but no less dangerous. And I? I keep my senses sharp, eyes darting from corner to corner, always ready.

The elevator ride is brief, but every second feels like an eternity. When the doors finally open, the faint hum of security lights greets us—too easy. We're not even halfway down the corridor when I hear the soft shuffle of footsteps.

"Guards," I whisper into the comms. "Gio, Santino, stay close. Let's make this quick."

We've done this a hundred times, but the anxiety of each mission never gets easier. The guards are too close, too many. But that doesn't matter. We don't need numbers. We have skill.

Gio's eyes flicker to me, a silent question. I nod. We're doing this our way.

Without a word, I dart forward, slipping silently behind the first guard. He's too focused on his post to notice me. A quick jab to the neck, my knife sliding through flesh with practiced ease. He crumples, silent, before hitting the floor.

Gio's next, moving like a shadow through the hall. A guard reaches for his gun, but Gio's faster—two shots, two bodies down before they even knew what hit them.

Santino, on the other hand, is all noise and chaos. He barrels into one guard, knocking him into a stack of crates. A few punches, a headlock, and Santino's target goes down. "See? Easy," he grins, wiping blood off his knuckles, clearly enjoying the action a little too much.

"Keep it quiet, you idiot," I mutter, but I can't help but feel a little proud of him. He may be a pain in the ass, but he's got the instincts.

We press forward, but we're not alone. Another guard rounds the corner, his eyes locking with mine just a moment too late. I move swiftly, bringing my elbow up to block a punch, and then my knife slashes through the air, catching him in the side. He stumbles but doesn't fall. I press the blade deeper, twisting it until he crumples to the floor.

That's when everything goes wrong.

Santino's laughing, clearly proud of his latest takedown, when a massive figure steps into view—a bodyguard bigger than any man I've seen before. He's got brute strength written all over him. Santino doesn't even see it coming. The guard grabs him by the collar, lifting him off his feet. His grip tightens, and for a split second, I swear I see Santino's feet dangling.

"Let go of him!" I yell, adrenaline shooting through me.

The guard laughs, hoisting Santino toward the open window like he's some kind of ragdoll. "You gonna stop me, girl ?"

I don't hesitate.

My body moves faster than my mind can catch up, and before I even think, I throw my knife, the blade sinking deep into the guard's side. He stumbles back in pain, but he doesn't release Santino. In that moment, I know I have to act fast or this situation could turn deadly.

Gio's already on it, sending a precise shot that hits the guard in the knee, bringing him down. But it's not enough. The bastard is still holding on tight to Santino, his grip like steel. I sprint toward them, delivering a powerful kick to the guard's chest, sending him flying into the wall.

Santino's gasping for air, but he's not out of it yet. His face is pale, but he's still alive. "I swear to god, I'll kill him," Santino growls, struggling to stand.

"No time for that, idiot. We need to move," I snap, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him toward cover.

The fight's not over yet. The remaining guards—two more—are closing in. Santino grabs his gun, pulling it from his holster. Gio's already there, steady as always, taking out one guard with a shot to the head.

I face the last one, ready for this to be over. He charges me, his fist swinging wide. I duck just in time, my hand slicing through his defense, my knife finding its mark in his side. I twist the blade, feeling the resistance as I strike, his last breath escaping as he falls to the floor.

The room falls silent.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady my heartbeat. I look at Santino, who's still shaken up but now fully on his feet. Gio's wiping his gun clean, his usual smirk back in place. But I can't shake the feeling of worry that crept into my chest when I saw Santino nearly fall out that window.

"You good?" Gio asks, his voice low, eyes scanning the hallway for more trouble.

I look at Santino, who gives me a half-assed grin. "Yeah, sis. I'm good. Thanks for not letting me die."

I roll my eyes. "You're lucky I didn't just leave you out there."

"Ah, come on, you love me," he teases, before glancing at Gio. "Now, let's finish this."

I nod, my grip tightening on my knife. "Yeah. Let's finish this. Together."

We head up to the top floor, no more interruptions. The businessman's office is just ahead, and when we walk in, I know this is the moment everything changes.

Santino, Gio, and I—perfectly in sync, perfectly lethal. Ready to collect what's ours.

We reach the final floor of the building, where the real work begins. I hear the sounds of movement up ahead—four guards stationed just outside the businessman's office. It's not exactly a surprise. Every high-profile person thinks they can hide behind their guards. They forget that it's the ones with the real power who don't need protection. I glance over at Gio, who's already prepping his gun, and Santino, who, as usual, is grinning like he's about to ruin someone's day.

I pull my knife from its sheath, feeling the weight of it in my hand. There's something satisfying about knowing that every swing, every strike is calculated to do exactly what it needs to do.

"Ready?" Gio asks, his voice cold and commanding.

"Born ready," I answer, my eyes locked on the guards.

I motion for Santino to stay low, moving fast and quiet. We don't have the luxury of wasting time.

One of the guards steps forward, clearly not paying attention. I seize the opportunity, gliding behind him like a shadow. Before he can even react, my arm wraps around his neck, pulling him into a tight headlock. The pressure builds, my muscles coiling as I choke the life out of him. His struggling grows weaker, and with one final twist, he goes limp in my arms.

I drop him like dead weight, my gaze shifting to the other three. They've all turned their attention to me, weapons drawn. Too bad they don't stand a chance.

Gio's faster—two shots, two guards down. Santino follows suit, taking out another with a swift kick that sends him crashing into the wall. I turn to face the last one, who's trying to scramble for his radio. I don't give him the chance. A quick jab with my knife, and he crumples to the ground.

I wipe the blood off my hands, turning to face Gio, who's watching me with an approving smirk.

"Nice one, bambina," he says with a wink, his eyes gleaming.

I feel my cheeks grow hot, irritation bubbling to the surface. "What? You want a medal?" I roll my eyes, but there's no hiding the smirk tugging at my lips.

Santino lets out a laugh, clearly amused by the exchange. "Hey, Gio's right. That was pretty smooth, sis."

I glance at him, narrowing my eyes. "Don't get any ideas, Santino. I'm not your personal cheerleader."

"Yeah, yeah," he says, holding up his hands in mock surrender, "Just giving credit where it's due."

We move forward, the final door looming in front of us—the office of Luca Santini, the businessman who thought he could skip out on paying the Italian mafia. His mistake. And he'll regret it soon enough.

I push the door open with a soft creak, and the man himself stands behind a polished desk, clearly shocked by the sudden intrusion. His hands tremble as he looks us over, his eyes lingering a little too long on the guns in Gio and Santino's hands.

"You—you can't be serious," Luca stammers, his voice cracking. "I—I've always paid my dues. You can't do this."

I step forward, my voice low and dangerous. "Not paying the family was your first mistake. The second one is thinking we'd just let you walk away without consequences."

Luca's eyes dart nervously between me and the two men behind me, his face pale. "I—I'll transfer the money, alright? Just don't—don't hurt me."

I smirk, crossing my arms over my chest. "Good choice. You'll send the payment now, or I'll send you straight to hell."

He swallows hard, visibly trembling. "I—I'll do it."

I watch as he hurriedly scrambles to his computer, fingers shaking as he sets up the transfer. I can almost hear the desperation in his breath as he clicks through the process. It's pathetic. He's just another weak man thinking money can save him.

Once the payment is confirmed, I lean against the desk, my voice dripping with mock sweetness. "Now, Luca...here's the thing. You've got one shot. If you fuck up again, there's no going back. You'll never be able to run far enough to escape the consequences."

Luca's eyes widen in fear, but I can see the defiance in him, too. Too bad. I don't give second chances.

I give Santino a nod, and he walks over to the liquor cabinet, grabbing a bottle of expensive whiskey. He smashes it against the wall, sending shards of glass flying.

I step back, allowing the sound of the breakage to fill the room. It's almost poetic. "Oops," I say, not even bothering to look at the wreckage. "My bad. Guess I got a little too excited."

Santino grins. "I mean, it's practically baseball, right?" He swings another bottle into the wall, and I can't help but laugh at the absurdity of it.

Luca's eyes are wide, his hands shaking in panic. "W-What are you doing? What do you want?"

I step forward, close enough to see the sweat forming on his brow. "I'm doing exactly what I said I'd do. Now...you won't forget this lesson, will you?"

His voice cracks, and I know he's terrified. Good. He should be. "No. I won't."

"Good," I say, straightening up. "Send my regards to the devil will ya?"

With that, I turn and head for the door, Gio and Santino following behind me. As we step into the hallway, I light a match and toss it toward the liquor-soaked office. It ignites in an instant, the flames licking up the walls, casting an eerie glow over the corridor.

We walk out of the building, the fire burning behind us, and I can't help but feel a thrill surge through my veins. My smirk grows bigger once I hear his gut-wrenching scream echo through the air—Luca's desperation now a distant, fading noise as the flames take over. That sound? It's the sweet music of someone who finally realizes they're not in control anymore.

"See ya in hell, Luca," I mutter under my breath, just as the building starts to collapse in on itself.

By the time we reach the car, the flames have fully consumed the office, the entire building starting to crumble. I turn to Gio, who's watching me with that unreadable expression of his.

"Well," I say, grinning, "I think we've made our point."

Santino slaps me on the back, nearly knocking me off balance. "Damn, sis, that was straight-up savage. You're like a fucking hurricane in heels!" He laughs, loud and unbothered, clearly buzzing from the chaos we just left behind. "Next time, maybe we'll throw a party with the fire and the bodies. You know, for the vibe."

I roll my eyes but can't hide the grin pulling at my lips. "Careful, Santino, or you'll end up asking me to start the next fire with a cake and confetti."

He snickers, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. "Shit, don't tempt me. I'd totally let you light the candles."

Gio keeps his focus on the road, but I swear I see the corners of his lips twitch. "Can't take you two anywhere without turning it into a circus, huh?"

I glance back at him, smirking. "Just the way we like it."

****

As I head into my room, kicking off my boots and pulling off my pants, I hear my phone buzz.

It's Eliseo, of course. Now?

I answer without hesitation. "Yes?"

His voice crackles through, business as usual. "You said to inform you if there were any intel on Niko's dealings. Well, there's a gala tonight. Nicolás Arias will be attending. He's one of Niko's top guys, heavily involved with the cartel, imports, exports... you name it. He'll be there."

I pause, letting the information sink in. Then I shrug and continue rummaging through my closet. "Don't you think it's a little late notice for this kind of intel?"

Eliseo, ever the professional, responds with a hint of an apology. "Apologies, boss. I just found out five minutes ago. He RSVPed last minute. It's in Madrid. Your jet is ready."

I let out a frustrated sigh, still flicking through the hangers. Madrid, of course. Then I spot it. The perfect gold dress, the one I've been eyeing for weeks. I smile to myself. "Fine, but only because I can't let this gorgeous gown go to waste."

He chuckles on the other end, and I can almost hear him nodding. "Perfect. I'll let the crew know. Your appearance will be expected."

"Mhm," I murmur in approval. I hang up, a grin spreading across my face. I take a moment, letting the idea of this spontaneous trip settle in. Then, looking at the mirror, I mutter to myself with a small laugh, "Spain, where I come... and probably leave them all questioning their life choices."

As I hurry downstairs, fully dressed and ready to go, I spot Gio lounging on the couch, dressed in sweats, sipping his usual cup of tea. His head lifts at the sound of my heels clicking against the floor, and for a moment, he just stares.

His usual smirk falters, his eyes dragging over me in a way that's... different. Like he wasn't expecting me to look like this. Like it actually caught him off guard.

I raise an eyebrow. "What?"

He clears his throat, shifting slightly, trying to play it cool. "Nothing," he mutters, then, in an attempt to sound like his usual self, he smirks. "You just—uh—you clean up nice, that's all."

I blink. That's all?

I tilt my head, studying him, and for once, Gio is the one looking a little uneasy under my gaze.

"You sure? Because it kinda looks like you forgot how to talk for a second there," I tease, a slow grin forming on my lips.

His smirk twitches, but there's something else in his expression—something softer, something unguarded. "I just—" he starts, then shakes his head with a chuckle. "Never mind. Where are you sneaking off to looking like that, anyway?"

I let out a nervous laugh, quickly scrambling for an excuse. "Oh, Iyana's having a gala for her archery graduation. Big party thing."

Gio's brow furrows. "Archery graduation? That's a thing now?"

I internally curse myself for coming up with the worst excuse possible. "Uh... yeah. Huge milestone. Very serious business."

His gaze sharpens slightly. "Does your father know?"

I nod quickly. "Of course. You can call him if you want, but... might not be the best idea unless you wanna be the reason he starts yelling this late at night."

Gio watches me carefully, clearly trying to decide if I'm full of shit. After a long pause, he finally sighs, shaking his head. "Fine. I trust you."

Relief floods me as I turn toward the door, ready to make my escape, but just as I reach for the handle, I hear him call after me.

"You look beautiful, Mariella."

I freeze.

Not stunning. Not a tease. Not some playful jab.

Just beautiful.

I glance over my shoulder, and for once, Gio isn't smirking. His expression is unreadable, like he's debating whether or not he should've said it at all.

I swallow, caught off guard by the unexpected sincerity in his voice. My fingers tighten around the door handle, and instead of my usual cocky retort, all I manage is a quiet, "Thanks."

Then, before he—or I—can make this moment any weirder, I step outside, my heart hammering just a little faster than before.

I head straight for the car, feeling the thrill of getting away building in my chest. I turn the engine on and floor it, speeding off into the night, finally free from the web he's always trying to weave around me.

A few minutes later, I drive onto the tarmac where my crew and the pilot are waiting. There's no time for pleasantries. I just nod in acknowledgment as I march up the stairs of the jet.

"Cutting it close, huh?" the pilot calls as I step inside.

I throw him a playful grin. "Better late than never."

The door closes behind me, and the jet starts to taxi down the runway. With a deep breath, I lean back in my seat, finally feeling the weight of freedom settle in. Time to go see what Nicolás Arias has to offer.

****

As I step out of the car and the valet takes the keys, the sound of the crowd at the gala hits me—laughter, clinking glasses, and the unmistakable buzz of high society. The stone building looms in front of me, grand and imposing, with its towering pillars and white lights casting a soft glow against the night sky. I can feel the weight of the moment settling in my chest as I give a polite smile to the valet. "Buenas noches, señora (Good evening, madam)," he greets me, his voice polite, almost rehearsed.

"Buenas noches (Good evening)," I respond, my tone a little colder than usual. I hand over the keys without a second thought and start making my way up the stairs, my heels clicking against the stone. The air is heavy with the scent of expensive perfumes, and the hush of the crowd fills my ears as I lift the hem of my dress, my eyes scanning the people around me.

Inside, the gala is everything I expected and more. A sea of polished faces, the faint hum of whispered conversations blending with the clinking of champagne glasses. It's all a bit too much, but I've been to enough of these events to know how to blend in without drawing attention. But tonight, I'm not here to socialize. My mission is clear: find Nicolás Arias has to offer. He's the one with the connections to Niko's operation, and I need him.

My gaze sweeps over the room, carefully scanning the faces of the guests. That's when I see him. The only tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a suit that hugs his frame perfectly. My heart skips a beat, and my stomach tightens.

It's him—Leon.

But something's off. I watch him, mesmerized in a way I can't explain, and my attention shifts. He's laughing, his lips curved into a smile—a real smile. And not just at anyone, no. He's smiling at her.

The woman beside him is everything I'm not: blonde, effortlessly stunning, and wearing a blue dress that seems to shimmer with every movement. She laughs, and it's clear from her easy smile and the way she looks up at him that she's enjoying every second of his attention.

I'm about to drag a bitch.

My breath catches in my throat. My nostrils flare.

What the hell is this? Why the hell is he smiling like that?

Leon never smiles—at least not like that. My heart races in a way I'm not used to, a dark and suffocating feeling creeping up on me. I curl my fist, grinding my teeth. The jealousy claws at me, wild and unforgiving. Why is he acting like he's so fucking interested in her?

I force myself to keep my distance, but every part of me wants to march up to him, grab her by her perfect little neck, and drag her away. The thought of Leon looking at someone else like that twists something deep inside me.

I let out a shaky breath, trying to regain control, but it's hard. This burning, possessive feeling is clawing at my chest.

"Get it together, Mariella," I mutter under my breath, but even I can't fool myself.

I can feel the heat building in my face as I watch them. They're still talking, still laughing—she's still smiling at him. No. Not when he belongs to me. No one else gets to see him like that.

I step forward, my heels clicking a little too loudly as I make my way through the crowd, eyes locked on them. But there's something in my gut telling me this won't end well. Not for her. Not for anyone who tries to take what's mine.

And as I draw closer, the game's just beginning.

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Leon is talking to another girl??

how scandalous.

Bye, lovies! (っ◔◡◔)っ

Maddie♡

*Mariella's Outfit*