Lady Mafia: Venom & Affection

"Just get it over with. Kill me, you fking bastard," Williams spat. His voice was thick with blood, his words bubbling through a broken lip. A heavy punch silenced him. The impact sent his head snapping back, a wet thud echoing in the sterile room. The man delivering the blow—a mountain of a human with the calloused knuckles of a prize fighter—smirked. He took a moment to retighten the blood-stained cloth wrapped around his fist, then swung again. This time, the cartilage in Williams' nose gave way with a sickening c***k. "No! Stop hurting my papa!" The high-pitched wail of a child pierced the air. Before she could scream again, a gloved hand clamped over her mouth. "One more sound and I’ll rip your head off right in front of him," a scarred man hissed into the girl's ear. She nodded frantically, her eyes wide and shimmering with unshed tears that eventually spilled over, tracing tracks through the grime on her cheeks. Beside her, her mother sat paralyzed, gagged and trembling so violently the chair rattled. She watched her husband’s face transform into a mask of purple bruises and open gashes. Williams was a strong man, but no one could survive this kind of systematic demolition for long. He was passing out, fading into the dark. "Just tell me what you want," Williams wheezed, shaking his head to clear the red haze. "Let my family go." The torturer chuckled, a low, gravelly sound. "We’re just the opening act, Williams. We continue until the Boss arrives." The laughter of the men in black filled the room, only to be cut short by the heavy groan of the double doors swinging open. A woman stepped into the light. She was petite, draped in a cobra-black suit that fit like a second skin, topped with a wide-brimmed feathery hat that cast a shadow over her eyes. Her lips were a shade of crimson so deep it looked like fresh arterial spray. In her hand, she lazily twirled a handgun by the trigger guard. The rhythmic clack-clack of her stilettos against the concrete floor was the only sound in the room. Following in her shadow was a fifteen-year-old girl. Unlike the woman, this girl looked as though she wanted to vanish into the floorboards. Her hands were tucked into her palms, rubbing them raw to soothe her rising panic. Her eyes darted across the room—taking in the armed men, the broken man in the chair, and finally, the little girl whose pleading gaze felt like a physical weight on her soul. The teenager looked away, bowing her head as the woman in black finally spoke. "Well, well, well... Williams. Long time no see." The woman set her gun on a side table and sank into a velvet couch, crossing her legs with predatory grace. "Luna..." Williams grunted, trying to steady his breathing. "So you do remember me. Perfect." She smiled, though the warmth didn't reach her eyes. "What do you want?" Luna’s expression soured. "You know what I want. Look at the photo on the table. Tell me where to find him." "I told your dogs already! I don't know where he is!" Williams yelled. The fighter landed a hook to his ribs, forcing a guttural groan from his chest. "I’m telling you the truth!" Luna stood, her movements fluid and dangerous. She walked toward the bound man and leaned in close. "I hate liars, Williams. I find they have a habit of losing their heads. You know where ‘The Mask’ is. You’re protecting him, but you’re forgetting that your family is currently holding the bill for your silence." "Leave them out of this!" Williams hissed through gritted teeth. "They’re innocent." "Then give me the fking name!" Luna seethed. "I said I don't know!" The air in the room turned frigid. "Fk this," Luna snapped. She snatched her gun from the table, c****d it in one motion, and without so much as a blink, aimed it at the wife and pulled the trigger. The bang was deafening. "MAMA!" the child screamed. The woman in the chair slumped forward, a neat red hole blooming in the center of her forehead. "No! You b!tch! You monster!" Williams’ voice broke into a jagged sob. He strained against his zip-ties, his eyes fixed on his wife’s lifeless body. His daughter struggled against her captor, her small frame no match for the man’s iron grip. Luna brought the barrel of the gun to her lips, inhaling the scent of burnt gunpowder. "She was going to die anyway, Williams. I just gave her an express pass. You should thank me." She winked. "You’ll never get him," Williams snapped, his grief turning into a cold, hard rage. "The Mask is ten steps ahead of you." "Maybe. But you won’t be around to see it. And neither will your daughter." Williams froze. The defiance left his eyes, replaced by a raw, desperate terror. "Not her. Please. She’s just a child. Kill me, but let her go." "I’m not a big fan of mercy," Luna mused. "But I’ll tell you what. I won't kill you." Williams looked up, a flicker of hope in his battered face. "She will," Luna whispered, pointing to the teenage girl standing in the corner. Williams gasped as he recognized her. The high cheekbones, the set of the eyes—she was the image of the Wolves’ former leader. "Kyla?" Luna held the gun out to the teenager. "Take it, Kyla. Finish him." "No... I can't," Kyla whispered, her entire body beginning to shake. "We discussed this," Luna’s voice was a low warning. "But—" "Take the fking gun and blow his head off!" Kyla’s fingers closed around the cold metal. She stepped forward, the weapon feeling like it weighed a hundred pounds. She looked at Williams—his face was a map of agony—and then at the little girl on the floor. The child’s eyes were wide, begging. I have no choice, Kyla thought, her heart hammering against her ribs. If I don't, Luna will kill us both. She squeezed her eyes shut and pulled the trigger. The kickback jolted her arm, and a split second later, Williams’ head snapped back. He was dead before he hit the floor. The little girl’s wails filled the room, but Kyla couldn't hear them over the ringing in her ears. Then came the sound of slow, rhythmic clapping. "Good shot," Luna purred. "Now, the girl. Do it again, and try not to shake this time." Kyla looked at the child, who was now curled into a ball on the floor. Her heart ached so fiercely she thought it might stop. She raised the gun, but her finger refused to move. "Kyla? Don't make me lose my patience," Luna warned. With a ragged scream, Kyla squeezed the trigger again—but her hand jerked at the last second. The bullet embedded itself in the wall, feet away from the girl. Kyla’s legs gave out. She dropped to her knees, the gun clattering to the floor. A second later, a stinging slap across her face sent her spinning. "Bastard," Luna spat. Present Day "Argh!" I bolted upright in bed, my chest heaving. My nightgown was soaked with cold sweat. I glanced at the clock: 3:00 AM. "s**t," I muttered, rubbing my face. The nightmare was always the same because the memory was always the same. It didn't matter that ten years had passed; the sound of that gunshot still echoed in my sleep. I kicked off the blankets and walked to the cellar, my flip-flops slapping against the cold floor. I didn't reach for a glass. I grabbed a bottle of wine, ripped the cork out, and took a long, burning swallow. I needed to numb the heat behind my eyes. I lay back on the bed, recollecting how I got here. Luna made this possible; too bad she is lying nine feet beneath the earth now. Ten Years Back~ "Kyla... Kyla!" Luna’s voice barged into my room. I jerked up from my bed, dropping the novel I’d been engrossed in. "Don't tell me you heard me and decided to snub me," she yelled, walking closer. I rolled my eyes, pulling off the blanket. I stood akimbo, my hands folded. I used to be a very rude kid, to begin with. "What do you want, Luna?" I snorted. "And what happened to 'mother'?" she snapped. "Fine... mother," I retorted. I could feel her blood boiling, but she didn't seem ready for a quarrel. "Pick up what you need. We’re leaving." "You’re joking, right?" I asked. "Do I look like a clown to you?" "A little," I snapped. "You don't just barge in and tell me to pack. Where are you taking me?" "You don't need to know. Just get on it!" "Does Dad know about this? I want to speak with him. Now!" "You can't, Kyla. You’re making this hard." "No, you are! Where is he?" "He’s dead!" she screamed, ruffling her hair in frustration. "Your dad is fking dead. He was shot hours ago." The world went ice-cold. I couldn't process it. My spine felt like it had been struck by lightning. "What?" I croaked. "You heard me. Get your ass in your wardrobe and pick out your clothes before I kick it for you." She left before I could reply. I sank into the bed, the first tears beginning to fall. Later, we were in a car heading into the unknown. A man I recognized from my father's circle was driving; another stranger sat in the front. Beside me, Luna puffed out clouds of smoke, looking bored while my world was ending. "Can I at least know where we're heading?" I asked. "To your dad’s clan," she replied simply. "And his corpse? Are we just leaving it? You're acting like you weren't even his wife," I snapped. Luna tilted her head to glare at me. "The only thing stopping me from slapping you is that we’re still mourning. Mind your tongue, Kyla." She turned back to the window. "His body is already at the clan. We’ll bury him there." I didn't care about her explanations anymore. I just wanted to go back to my book, to a world that made sense. "And one more thing," Luna added, blowing a large ball of smoke into my face. "I'm in charge of the Wolves Clan now. From now on, you and everyone else will refer to me as 'Boss'."