Sardonic Burn

ONE

I have severe anger issues.

Untreated anger issues.

Which is why I’m trying my best to hold back right now. If I end up killing him before he tells me everything I need to know, it’ll only provoke the beast inside of me, and someone is bound to suffer if that happens.

Instead of allowing the anger to surface, I inhale deeply, although I barely manage it. My left eye twitches at the sight of blood coating my feet. I’m wearing my regular white slippers, though the white color is long gone.

The knife is still pierced in his thigh, and his screams are just as loud. It nearly gives me a headache listening to his weeping and writhing. He’s chained to the ceiling, hands in the air, and on his knees before me. I didn’t think he’d bleed this much, otherwise I would’ve chosen a smaller knife.

One of my father’s men approaches me with a cigarette and a lighter. They’ve all known me since I was a child, and they are all prepared for frequent situations like this.

I light the cigarette and inhale the nicotine, feeling my lungs open and the air flow through them. It’s liberating and addicting. A dangerous combination, but it’s part of what makes it so fun.

“Now—” I take another drag of the cigarette, “what is the reason for breaking into a lady’s room in the middle of the night?”

The man in front of me is almost unrecognizable.

I’m a night owl, so I wasn’t asleep when he broke the glass door of my terrace. I was freshly out of the shower with nothing but a silk bathrobe on my body.

And my slippers.

Slippers that are no longer white.

He’s an amateur, and I was able to take the gun from his hand, slam his head against the wall, and still tie a pretty bow around my waist before father’s henchmen barged in due to the noise.

And now, we’re here, an hour after the intrusion took place.

He’s bruised from being beaten for the past hour. However, these men aren’t stupid; they made sure his face was kept in the best shape possible. After all, I need him to speak.

“I wouldn’t know. You aren’t a lady.”

His words reach my ears, and I remain silent for a brief moment, thinking about how to properly handle this. The basement is soundproof, so no one will wake up even if I tear his limbs apart, but that is not enough.

“You’re right,” I agree with a nod. “A lady would’ve called the cops on you. I’m not that gracious—or merciful, for that matter. So why don’t you tell me who sent you, and we can both be on our merry way?”

He tries to laugh, but one of the men kicks him in his ribs. His laugh turns into a cough, his eyes filled with anger as he stares at me. I don’t like that stupid expression on his face. As if I’m beneath him. As if I’m less than him.

“We both know I’m dead either way.”

I lift a shoulder. “Sure. You just get to pick how you die. Painfully or extremely painfully. I’m not patient, either, so make your choice now.”

He clenches his jaw and turns his head to the side, refusing to speak. I laugh bitterly and push the cigarette in his eye, enjoying the thrill of his pathetic cries.

“Wrong choice, buddy.”

I throw the bud on the ground and turn to the men.

“Tear his limbs apart. Make it as painful as possible.”

The two men nod, and I walk out of the basement. His wails of despair follow me until I close the door, then it’s radio silent.

This is the fourth time someone has tried to kill me in the past two weeks.

The first time was when I was out doing my nightly running routine. I just came to visit my father for the holiday season and his manor is surrounded by a deep, dark forest. Two masked men jumped me with baseball bats, but, much to their dismay, I had a gun on me.

They were dead before they got the chance to be within breathing distance of me.

The other two times were more or less the same. They always tried to catch me by surprise, but I was always one step ahead of them and quicker than they thought. Their downfall was that after the first time, I expected them.

However, this is the first time they’ve managed to breach father’s over-the-top security and get this close to the manor.

I’m worried because it means the person who hired these men is someone from the De Santis family.

“Motherfuckers,” I cuss under my breath and slip out of the robe and shoes, going into the shower for the second time in an hour. That’s a personal record.

By the time I’m done washing away the stench of blood, it’s nearly four in the morning. A yawn slips through my lips as I exit the bathroom that’s connected to my quarters, only to find my father sitting on my bed with one of my books in hand, reading it carefully.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” I say with suspicion and walk over to him, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

“Are you hurt?”

I snort. “Of course not. I’m used to this. But since you’re here now and didn’t wait until the morning, I get the feeling that you are worried. What’s going on?”

My father, Ray, slams the book shut, stands up, and returns it to its original place, leaving me to sweat in anticipation and anxiety.

When he turns to look at me, his stone-cold look makes the blood in my veins run cold. I’m frozen in place, unable to move under the stern gaze he’s throwing my way.

“I’m assuming you’ve already figured out who is behind these recent attacks on you.” He gives me a knowing look, to which I nod. “You can protect yourself, but I’m worried about Jane. I’m thinking of sending her to Europe, far out of their reach.”

“Do it,” I encourage. “It will be safer for her to leave now. I get the feeling that we might have a war ahead of us and I don’t want her getting hurt.”

My little sister, Jane, is only fourteen.

She’s being trained just like I was when I was her age, but she’s leaning more toward academic achievements, whereas my expertise is combat and killings. She might be the only one in the past three generations not to be involved in the dirty side of this business, and I’ll do everything in my power to ensure that.

Jane deserves better than this.

“The only safe option is Russia,” Dad mumbles in distaste. “The mafia will protect her until she comes of age, but it means taking on more clients from them for a lower price. Are you fine with that?”

I nod before he can find fault with this. “Yes. I’ll manage, don’t worry.”

“Good. Do you have a plan?”

I frown at his question.

Usually, he tells me what the plan is, and I follow his lead, executing it without a single flaw. I’m shocked that he’s asking for my opinion, so I can’t help but ask.

“Why are you asking me?”

“You’re twenty-three, Noelle. You’ll be my successor. You need to start doing your part.”

I raise a brow. “As opposed to the lazy schedule I’ve been keeping since I was seventeen?”

He gives me a pointed look. “That’s not what I mean, and you know it. You need to stop this before a war occurs.”

He’s right.

There’s nothing I’d like more than to kill everyone in the De Santis family, but I can’t do that right now. Just like my family, they also have too much influence and are needed. If I do it recklessly, there will be more bloodshed on my plate. Right now, my priority is making sure Jane travels and arrives in Russia without a hitch.

“Are you giving me full authority?”

He pauses, then narrows his eyes at me. “Temporarily. But beware; your actions and decisions might have consequences. Do not disappoint me, Noelle.”

I grin in response. “Have I ever?”

He leaves right after, and I lie in my bed, staring up at the ceiling.

They chose the worst time to attack. It’s the holiday season; you’d think they would be busy preparing for the festivities, especially after what they did two months ago.

One of my aunts on dad’s side, Luciella, was murdered in her hospital bed. She’d been in a bad car accident. A drunken driver had hit her, and she was slowly but surely recovering. Until someone came into her room, managing to sneak past the guards and then smother her with a pillow.

We all know who did it.

And now they’re targeting me.

During Luciella’s funeral, I wanted to rebel and put a stop to it, once and for all. My father told me it wasn’t time yet and that he wanted to mourn his sister in peace, so I allowed it.

Now, with full authority, it’s time for the Campbells to strike back.

And my target is none other than the next head of the family, Franco De Santis.

“I’m not going,” Jane protests, folding her arms in front of her chest. She all but cries at the littlest mention of her leaving the States. If there was even the slightest possibility of her being safe here, I wouldn’t be so adamant about sending her abroad.

“I’m not asking you. I’m telling you and you’re going.”

She throws me a dirty glare. “I have friends here. Everything is here.”

“You’ll make friends over there, too. I’m not risking your safety for your comfort, and I won’t apologize. Who knows? It might not be until you’re an adult, or it could be sooner.”

Her eyes narrow at me in suspicion. “What are the chances of that happening?”

I give her a tight smile. “It all depends on your departure date. Which is tomorrow, by the way.”

Jane groans and starts throwing a tantrum.

I shut out all of her complaints and focus on finishing getting ready. It’s already nine o’clock in the evening and if I continue to act lazy, I’ll miss the window of opportunity. I don’t have the luxury of doing that.

While Jane is still busy ranting about her displeasure of going abroad, I put on a blonde wig. I’m not an expert, but it doesn’t look half-bad. It’s probably because the wig is high quality, and I have beginner's luck when I put it on.

Does beginner's luck count in this instance?

Once I’m done with everything, I look at myself in the mirror. I’m unrecognizable—an entirely different person.

Instead of my deep, brown eyes, the blue contacts look foreign to me. I’m used to wearing contacts because of my poor eyesight, so switching them for a colored pair seemed good enough.

The blonde wig truly ties it together. Unless he stares at me, thinking I look familiar, there’s not a chance he’ll be able to recognize me. Especially with the bangs that I don’t normally have.

“Where are you going?”

I turn to look at Jade while rummaging through my closet, trying to pick an outfit.

“Out.”

“Out where?”

I groan. “What are you, my mother? Stop asking me useless questions and get ready for bed.”

“Are you going to do something dangerous?”

“Of course.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

With a sigh, I walk over to her. She’s sitting on the bed, fiddling with her fingers on her lap. Jane’s eyes find mine and swell with tears.

I hug her tightly, and it’s all it takes for her to break down. She’s sobbing into my shirt, clutching onto me tightly.

Jane is scared. I see it in her eyes.

My heart aches for her. It’s difficult to not only change houses and schools, but also to be on a different continent than the rest of your family. She’s too young to be on her own, which is why I’m afraid of how she’ll cope once she’s in Russia.

“You’ll be okay,” I whisper and kiss the top of her head. “Niko will come in the spring to be with you.”

Jane sniffles and slowly puts distance between us, staring up at me with teary eyes. “Promise?”

I smile. “I promise.”

Niko is our brother, the middle child. He’s two years younger than me and will finish his studies in the spring. He’ll be able to look after Jane for a couple of years, though I’ve yet to ask him. I doubt he’ll say no, since he’s still pissed about not being named the official heir. It will give him time to cool off.

Jane leaves my room soon after, and I find the perfect outfit. It’s a gift from my mother that I got for Christmas. It’s a baby-pink dress that reaches just around my thighs, leaving enough room for me to have a knife on the upper part of my thigh.

I pick my favorite ring, which is a ruby with a little hidden compartment underneath the jewel. It’s big enough to put a drug inside and easily slip it into his drink.

All of the people working for the De Santis family have an upside-down cross tattoo on their right wrists. I bribed one of their men last year to take a picture of it and send it to me, so now I’m prepared. One of my own has the tattoo on his wrist, ready to listen to my commands.

The plan is fairly simple.

I’ll go to their club while my man takes over the position of Franco’s chauffeur. After I slip the drugs in his drink undetected and flirt with him a little bit, he’ll want to take me home.

He’s never been discreet with how frequently he spends time with different women, and that works in my favor perfectly. He prefers blondes, which is the reason behind this wig.

As soon as I arrive, I walk inside and make my way toward the bar. There’s barely any space left, but I manage to squeeze myself through, trying to seem like I’m not out of place.

It’s my first time visiting their club. As expected, it’s extravagant and filled with people. Since the party is in full swing, everyone is either getting drunk or dancing. The loud music fits the scene before me perfectly.

I order a martini neat and carefully observe the bartender as he pours my drink. I’m still reluctant to drink anything from this place but in order to blend in, I’ll have to at least order something.

I’m looking around with my palm covering the glass. Being too careful isn’t a thing. In this world, it’s either kill or be killed. And I’ll be damned if these bastards will ever be able to lay their filthy hands on me.

I spot Franco De Santis in the corner of the room surrounded by three blonde women. They’re laughing and touching him, and he’s enjoying it. A smirk is attached to his face, and it’s obvious to everyone what will happen later in the night.

I’m contemplating how to approach him. He has three guards on him, and, to anyone else, he probably looks like the heir to the mafia throne. However, he’s just one of the people the mafia will use as pawns if necessary.

He’s overestimating his value by a lot and doesn’t seem to think it’ll all catch up to him quickly.

The more I look at him, the angrier I get.

They killed one of my favorite people in the world. My aunt didn’t stand a chance in her state, and they took advantage of it. Now, it’s time for him to see how strong karma can be.

I’ll be the villain of his story, and I love every aspect of that. I want this entire family to hate me until they’re so absorbed by their hatred that they won’t see me coming.

I’ll slash their necks without mercy.

With a little shake of my head, I take a deep breath. This isn’t the time or place for me to act like that. Instead, I focus on slowly approaching him.

I walk confidently with my drink. It’s hard to get through the thick crowd of people, but I manage without spilling the alcohol all over myself. The guards are immediately on alert. They straighten their posture and stare at me.

I stumble over my heels and land on my knees, spilling the drink on Franco.

This is going to leave a nasty bruise, and I’m already pissed that I have to go to such lengths to get the attention of a simpleton.

“I’m so sorry.” A tear rolls down my cheek. “Are you okay? I’ll buy you a drink as an apology.”

By now, Franco is wiping his ruined shirt with a cloth, but the anger seems to disappear as soon as he looks at me. A wide grin spreads across his face, and he tosses the cloth to the side, dismissing the women he is with.

He takes a step forward and extends his hand.

Oh, thank fuck. It worked.

“No need to apologize. It happens.” His rough voice makes my skin crawl.

“Thank you.” I grab his hand, and he pulls me up, leading me toward his private booth.

The guards are no longer paying attention to me. While Franco has his back turned to me, I use the opportunity to open the small compact of my ring and slip the drugs into his glass.

I’m careful not to be seen and then glance at my wristwatch.

I have approximately fifteen minutes before the drugs start working, which means only fifteen minutes to get him away from his guards and into my territory.

Franco turns to look at me, and I stand in front of his glass, waiting until the drug is completely dissolved.

“I’m truly sorry,” I say, trying to buy time.

“It’s alright. Accidents happen. Are you hurt? You fell pretty badly.”

He reaches behind me and takes the glass of whiskey, bringing it to his lips while holding eye contact. He doesn’t look at the glass, which I’m beyond thankful for.

“It will heal.” I smile.

“What would you like to drink, since yours is spilled all over me?”

I laugh it off and playfully touch his shoulder. “I’m good with anything.”

“Is that so?” he muses with a raised eyebrow. “How do you propose making it up to me for ruining my shirt? It was quite expensive.”

“I can think of a way or two,” I tease with a sly grin.

Barf.

I’m trying my best not to throw up in my mouth and choke on my vomit. If that happens, not only will I die in vain, but I can perfectly imagine the laugh coming from my father. What an embarrassment.

“Can you?” He grabs my hand and places a kiss on the back of it.

“Yes, I can.”

He pours me a drink and we both gulp it down in one go. Now that the drugs are in his system, I have to work quickly.

I take a step forward, lightly touching his forearm and trailing my hand upward until I reach his neck.

“Should we head out so I can show you?”