I groaned as I slowly regained consciousness, my body aching all over. As I blinked my eyes open, the dim light of the room revealed rough, uneven walls that indicated we were carved out inside a mountain. The air was heavy and damp, making me feel confined and disoriented.
Before I could fully grasp my surroundings, the memory of the car explosion flooded my mind like a violent wave. I saw it again—the moment I intercepted Adele's getaway car, her tossing a makeshift explosive against our windscreen, and the ensuing chaos. The explosion had been so sudden, fire and shards of glass blasted towards me. Instinctively, I raised my arms to shield my face, feeling the searing heat and pain on the back of my forearms.
The side of my face and chest were also slightly burnt from the blast, and the pain lingered as I woke up panting. I could still feel the shock of the explosion reverberating through me, and my breaths came in ragged gasps.
But my disorientation was short-lived as I noticed Mamante ‘The Shark’ Mattiace, the head of the mercenaries I had teamed up with, sitting at the foot of the bed, watching me intently. His stern expression gave away no emotions, but I could sense the tension in the room.
Mamante 'The Shark' Mattiace was the epitome of a typical macho guy—rough, rugged, and intimidating. He had a tall and imposing stature, with broad shoulders that seemed to fill the room. His dark, weather-beaten skin bore the marks of a life spent outdoors, and his eyes were sharp and piercing, like those of a predator sizing up its prey.
His thick, black beard was slightly unkempt, adding to the aura of danger that surrounded him. His hair, cropped short, gave him a no-nonsense look, and his strong jawline hinted at the resilience and determination that defined his character.
Mamante's clothing was utilitarian and practical, befitting a man who was always ready for action. He wore a dark, tactical vest over a plain black shirt, showing off his well-built physique. His cargo pants and sturdy boots completed the ensemble, giving him an air of readiness and preparedness for any situation.
On his forearms, were faded tattoos, symbolic of his past and the battles he had fought. Scars and calloused hands told tales of the countless encounters he had faced, each one adding to the legend of 'The Shark.'
His steely demeanor and controlled expressions made it clear that he was a man of few words but great authority. I knew better than to underestimate him; his reputation as a formidable leader and ruthless enforcer preceded him.
But I really could care less right now, I was intimidated when I first saw him but not right now after his strings of failure. I was enraged and in pain, and I didn't hesitate to unleash my fury upon him. "You and your damn men are incompetent!" I screamed, my voice hoarse with frustration. "You had Adele right in your hands, and you let her slip away not once, but twice! How could you be so careless?"
Mamante's face hardened, but I refused to back down. "You're supposed to be professional mercenaries, the tough guys. And yet, you let a little bitch outsmart you at every turn. I could do a better job, and I'm just a woman, untrained in combat!"
“Shut your trap!” He shot back at me, clearly angered by my taunts. "I lost a lot of capable men because of you," he retorted. "You didn't tell me Adele was dangerous and a chemist. You should have warned me."
My anger only grew, and I scoffed at his excuses. "It's not my fault you couldn't handle a simple job. If you can't handle the heat, get the fuck out of the kitchen!"
Despite my bravado, the pain in my body served as a constant reminder of my failure, and I knew I had to regain control of the situation. I couldn't afford to leave; there was nowhere safe for me. Victor was actively searching for me, and at every turn, I faced the risk of being snatched up by his men. He had promised me pain, and after my last encounter with him, the last thing I needed was to fall into his hands again.
"My men heard something…" Mamante began, his voice firm. "They heard that you killed your own mother; Patricia, is that true?"
"Why the hell would I kill her?! I told you Victor did it!" I snapped, frustration and anger bubbling within me.
"That's not what we heard. Besides, if Victor Donovan was going to kill your mother, he would have made her disappear without a trace of her remains. Yet, she was found in some canal in Duport…" he retorted, his gaze unwavering.
"I have no idea how or who, but I know Victor was responsible. And how about your men make themselves useful by eliminating our targets instead of listening to gossip like bloody maids!" I lashed out, attempting to divert the focus from my supposed involvement in my mother's death.
Mamante's face remained stoic, but I could see a flicker of doubt in his eyes. I needed him to believe me, to accept my truth behind my mother's death, and most importantly, to keep me safe from Victor and his relentless pursuit.
"Watch it…" Mamante warned, gripping my chin firmly, forcing me to meet his gaze. "You are cute, but not that cute. Don't mess with me, don't lie to me, and don't try to manipulate me. I wasn't born yesterday. I agreed to do this job not because of your threats of exposure or your dead mother or your cute little face and delicious body. I agreed to do this job because your little nemesis is tied to an old friend of mine…"
"You knew the enforcer; Mark Rutherford?" I asked, surprised by the revelation.
"I knew him as Gonzaga ‘The Shadow’ Dragonetti. He owes me a life debt, and his sister would be the perfect repayment. When I catch her, she will take me to his grave, and I will fuck her till she dies on top of it…" he said, a sinister grin spreading across his face.
"That is not the plan!" I growled, trying to assert some control over the situation.
"There was no other plan," he said, leaning forward until there was only a hair's breadth between our faces. "It has always been the plan, cutie. If you don't like it, you are free to go and take your chances with the Donovans. Your men will die, but on my terms. I will have the Rutherford girl, and anyone who stands in my way will die," he threatened, his cold eyes boring into mine.
“Fine! But kill Victor Donovan first!” I replied through gritted teeth.