A Dangerous Woman

Chapter 8

Blaise Taylor

I slowly lifted my head, from my resting on my chest, where it had drooped while I was unconscious. I squinted my eyes open and was greeted by a dim light that ironically blinded me briefly.

The place I was in, was dark but my experience of being captured before and capturing people, was already helping me to figure out where I was.

The lack of natural light and how cold the air was as it painfully filled my lungs, showed that I was underground, possibly in a basement.

The room was commonly used for torture or general murder, as shown by the dried and fresh blood splattered along the floor and up the walls. The blood belonging to the unfortunate souls who came before me.

Helpless and hollow screams floated through the room, showing I was not alone in being tortured and that there were other rooms like this one.

I was tied to a chair with rope, and my mouth was gagged to stop me from speaking. My head was pounding, my throat was raw from dehydration and my stomach growled in starvation. But my recovering memory was reminding me of how I got here.

I flexed my fingers causing pain to shoot up through my body. I glance down at my hands to see they were purple from bruising. My knuckles were cracked and crusty with dry blood. A trophy that was painful but nonetheless one I was proud of earning.

I knew that the reason I was alive, was because they wished to find out who I was and why I was trying to kill Aidan.

Unfortunately for them, I was trained for situations like this one.

I knew all the techniques they would use and I knew how to power through them as I had learnt to do in staged torture sessions. I would not reveal any information, such as my English accent and stall as long as it took to figure out a way to escape. 

Not revealing my English accent was essential, as it was to ensure my crimes against the Italian Mafia would not be able to be traced back to the English Mafia, as it would give them reasoning to start a war.

The more I thought about it, the more I realised I deserved this punishment, I had allowed my anger get the best of me despite years of training telling me to stay calm in fights. I had allowed my emotions to distract me from completing my mission and in so endangered my Mafia family. I was clearly unfit to be a leader.

All of a sudden, ripping me from my thoughts, a deep Italian voice yelled out from the back of the room, "La cagna è sveglia!"

{The b***h is awake}

I internally smiled, there was a huge chance they didn't know I could speak Italian and it was something I could use to my advantage.

In a blink of an eye, four men were suddenly present in front of me, gathering within the range of the single light shining down on the room. I could not recognise two of the men but the other two were Aidan, Luca. The room was silent as they all openly looked me up and down. I only made eye contact with Aidan whose eyes had just finished hungrily looking down my body.

Luca stopped aggressively staring at me and turned to face Aidan, "Non so perché tu abbia insistito per essere qui, non è come se una persona non abbia tentato di ucciderti prima e abbia fallito,"

{don't know why you insisted on being here, it's not like a person hasn't attempted to kill you before, and failed}

I had seen Luca before in photos, but in person it was more obvious as to why the ladies liked him. He was admittedly an attractive man. Not my type but attractive in his own right, not as god-like as Aidan also, but that was a standard barely anyone could reach.

Not only this, in a weird twisted occurrence, Luca reminded me of my Father. His black hair, ice blue eyes and pale skin, made for an unusual combination for a person of alleged Italian descent.

My blanketed mind was instantly exposed as the word 'failed' echoed around the room. I flinched; I had not prepared myself to be drowned in the reminder of what I had not accomplished.

Aidan picked up on my flinch despite my speed to cover it up. I could tell he was already connecting the dots, another slip up and they'd know that I spoke Italian, if he hadn't already. It would only lead them one step closer to figuring out who I was, something I'd sooner die than let them know.

Aidan turned back to Luca, "C'è qualcosa in lei, la riconosco da qualche parte e lei mi conosce. Per non parlare del fatto che non ha alcuna registrazione di un certificato di nascita esistente, nemmeno."

{There's something about her, I recognise her from somewhere and she knows me. Not to mention she has no record of existing, not even a birth certificate.}

One of the two men that I could not recognise, spoke, "Not to mention, she would have killed you, if it wasn't for Luca!" He finished with a loud, bellyaching laugh.

Aidan let a slight amused grin touch his lips before he became emotionless once more.

He turned to me, "So amore, I need you to tell me your name." He took the gag out of my mouth to allow me to respond.

I spat at him.

He glared at me, while the blood that had been pooling in my mouth, dripped down my chin in a psychotic manner.

Luca threw Aidan a knife from a table in the back of the room, whist the two other nameless men left the room.

Aidan effortlessly twirled the knife around in his hand, handling it with ease.

I gritted my teeth in defiance.

Aidan raised the knife against my shoulder and applied pressure. He steadily dragged the knife down my arm, which left blood in its wake. 

I distracted myself from the pain, by focusing on the sensation of blood trickling down my arm, pooling at my hand and then dripping onto the floor. A sensation I was familiar with, but the blood usually was not my own.

He abruptly stopped and my singular thought was of how pathetic he was.

Luca broke the silence, "nemmeno un piagnucolio, sarà difficile da decifrare!"

{not even a whimper, she is going to be a hard one to crack.}

Aidan smiled in reply and then swiftly jammed the knife he was holding, through the centre of my hand. I could feel the blade shatter one of my metacarpals as it was driven through it.

Although Aidan's mutilation of my hand had been excruciating, I was unwillingly to give him the satisfaction of the reaction from me that he wanted. Instead, soundlessly, I turned my head to look at my hand, and then back at Aidan, as if to silently question his efficiency and calling his skill into question.

Aidan seemingly found my actions funny as he laughed in response. The laugh however, was humourless and only a feeble attempt to mask his frustration and anger.

"This is going to be fun!" He purposely uttered just loud enough for me to hear.