Chapter 4: Masks and Monsters
961 Words
(Arianna’s POV)
The dress was too tight.
Too red.
Too exposed.
I stared at myself in the mirror, hands clenched by my sides.
The woman in the reflection looked nothing like me.
Painted lips. Smoky eyes. A slit running high up my leg.
All designed to distract, to blend into a world I didn’t belong in.
Maria stood behind me, arms crossed, satisfied.
"The Don says you’ll accompany him tonight. People will ask questions. Don’t answer any."
I gave her a sharp look.
She smirked.
"Oh, right. You can’t."
She walked away, heels clicking like gunshots.
---
Two hours later, I stood beside Leo.
We were inside a marble ballroom filled with gold, glass, and lies.
He wore a black suit again — tailored, sharp. His presence lit up the room.
Every person here either feared him, wanted him dead, or both.
And yet, when he walked in, they smiled.
They raised their glasses. They bowed slightly.
Masks.
Everyone here wore one.
Even me.
Leo leaned closer and whispered near my ear.
"You look... lethal."
I glanced at him.
He didn’t smile.
But his eyes — they held something dangerous.
Something... real.
I didn’t know how to answer that.
So I didn’t.
---
I followed him as he moved through the room.
A politician shook his hand.
A cartel boss kissed both cheeks.
A woman in diamonds touched his arm and whispered something into his ear.
He brushed her off with one look.
He didn’t introduce me to anyone.
He didn’t need to.
They all looked at me the same way.
Curious.
Wary.
Like they didn’t know if I was his mistress… or his blade.
I preferred it that way.
Confusion is a weapon.
---
An hour passed. Maybe two.
I lost count.
Leo met with three men in a corner booth — low voices, expensive cigars, too much cologne.
I stood a few feet behind, quiet, invisible.
But I listened.
Not with my ears.
With that deeper sense — the one that told me when people were faking.
The first man spoke smoothly, thanking Leo for “stability.”
He lied.
The second man laughed, said they’d always been loyal to the Bianchi family.
He lied.
The third man stayed mostly quiet — except for one thing:
"I have no reason to betray you, Leo. We want the same thing."
And when he said that… I felt nothing.
No lies.
No twist in the air.
Just silence.
The truth.
I narrowed my eyes.
Why was that worse?
Because sometimes… truth is sharper than lies.
---
The meeting ended. Leo stood.
As he turned, his hand brushed mine.
It was small. A second long.
But it anchored me.
Reminded me that I wasn’t alone in this storm.
At least, not yet.
---
Then I saw him.
Across the room. Near the bar.
Tall. Slim. Pale skin. Eyes like winter glass.
I froze.
My breath caught in my throat.
I knew that face.
I knew that voice.
Dr. Mercer.
The man who tested us. Trained us. Broke us.
The man who watched while we screamed and took notes.
He was here.
Talking to a man in a velvet suit like he belonged.
Like he wasn’t a monster.
My hands shook.
The room spun for a second.
He turned.
And saw me.
His smile was slow. Calm. Deliberate.
He raised his glass to me — a quiet, cruel salute.
He remembered.
Of course he did.
I turned quickly and walked back toward Leo.
---
Outside the ballroom, the air was colder.
I found a balcony. Empty. Quiet.
I leaned against the rail and let the wind touch my face.
My hands were still shaking.
He was supposed to be dead. Or hidden. Or gone.
Not walking free among politicians and killers like nothing happened.
I felt sick.
---
Footsteps behind me.
I didn’t look.
I knew it was him.
Leo stood beside me, silent for a moment.
Then, softly: "You know him."
I didn’t react.
"You looked at him like you’ve seen a ghost."
Still, I said nothing.
Couldn’t say anything.
He sighed.
"Who is he?"
I looked down at the garden lights below.
They blurred slightly.
Then I turned, slowly, and traced the letter M on the railing with my finger.
He watched.
His voice dropped.
"Mercer."
He wasn’t guessing.
He knew the name.
"The one who trained you?"
I nodded once.
"You thought he was dead?"
Another nod.
Leo’s jaw tightened.
He looked back toward the ballroom.
"And now he’s here… in my house."
Not a question. A realization.
Then: "He’s not on the guest list."
My eyes widened slightly.
That meant he came in under someone else’s name — or with someone powerful.
Leo’s expression darkened.
"I’ll find out who brought him. And why."
He turned to me again.
And what he said next caught me off guard:
"I won’t let him touch you."
I stared at him.
Those words…
They didn’t come from a Don.
They came from a man.
A promise.
And for the first time, I felt something warm inside me.
Not love.
Not yet.
But something like… safety.
---
That night, in the quiet of my room, I sat on the floor and pulled out an old blade.
The one I used during my first mission.
The metal was worn now. The handle scratched.
But it reminded me of who I was.
What I had survived.
And what I was becoming.
Leo didn’t treat me like a tool.
He treated me like a weapon he wanted beside him — not in front or behind.
But beside.
And Mercer…
He reminded me of the cage I escaped from.
Of the girl I never wanted to be again.
I wouldn’t go back.
Not for anyone.
Not for anything.
- Writer
