The Mafia's Plaything: His To Ruin

Brinda's POV

“The Black Rose… The most wanted spy and criminal in New York City. The one who had executed over a hundred assassinations in three years. Who hasn't heard of the Black Rose? As for me knowing that you are Black Rose, you shouldn't be surprised. Did you forget how we were? I simply went through your things but… I kept it a secret.”

“You're a cheater. And why was the need to kill Peter?” I demanded as color drained out of my face.

“All cheaters should die.” He said acerbically. “Put that aside. All I need you for is to help me find my father's killer, retrieve the crypt key to open the Black Book, and sideline my opponents in the Mafia…”

“Mafia? What the hell have you gotten yourself into?”

“I am trying to be nice to you because of our past. Don't take advantage of it and look me in the eye while I'm talking.” He growled and pulled my head downward. “In return, I promise to save your mother.”

When I realized I had just few hours left, I made up my mind but I won't do the wrong thing. “I can't accept your offer.”

I looked at Francesco annoyingly before I turned to walk away but the men that alighted from the other cars earlier with Francesco had guns in their hands, particularly, pointed at me.

A mischievous smile played on my cheek as I ignored them and walked away peacefully not thinking of anything else but to save my dying mother.

As I settled at the backseat in the taxi, I lowered my head and tears came rolling down my cheeks. All I could say was, “Francesco, why? Why are you back?”

And my Peter? He's gone? Just like that?

Quickly, I pushed the thought away and focused on the issue at hand—How to save my mother.

But I couldn't help but be reminded of Peter. He had always stood by me. Ever since I met him years ago and still had a broken heart because Francesco disappeared out of the blue.

Now, I was the one who killed Peter. I would assume I did.

Brinda, why?

I tapped my head gently as a series of headaches awakened in my head. I managed to open the door and entered the house. When I got to Mom's room, there was nothing. Mom was missing as well as her medical treatments and the like.

“Francesco,” I called out. I wailed as hot tears poured out of my sockets heavily.

My phone rang and I crawled to where it lay not faraway. “Francesco, you had better not try me. Where is my mother?”

“Relax, damsel. I sent you a live location. Meet me there. More surprises awaits you,” he sang which made me quake concerning the surprise he talked about.

He had just passed the boundary and I would make him pay. I walked into the kitchen and grabbed two knives, tucked them carefully in my pocket and headed out.

~~~~~

I found myself standing before a massive mansion, towering like the haunted memories of the high-profile targets I had once eliminated without a second thought.

The gates creaked open, and there they were—three men in black suits. My fists clenched at my sides, desperate for a reason, any reason, to strangle them where they stood.

They moved swiftly towards me like an agile predator. My launched myself at them and attacked them brutally, their blood spilling on the side of my face.

I ushered myself into the mansion, everything around me was unnervingly still. The air was thick with tension, every step I took echoed in the silent space.

Then, out of the quiet, Francesco’s voice sliced through the room, sending an icy jolt down my spine.

“Non ci vediamo da un po—Long time no see. Can you see who you are? Killing man lives right in your blood.”

I froze before I turned to his direction, his words playing in my head.

Blood drained from my face, leaving nothing but a cold, burning emptiness that settled deep within my soul. My legs gave way, my chest constricting, every breath a struggle against the rising panic that threatened to consume me.

I staggered backward, clenching my fists against the sharp ache in my lungs, unable to scream while my body betraying me as I sank to my knees.

And there, just feet away from me—was my mother. Her body laid lifeless.

Francesco stood beside her, his hands casually tucked in his pockets, exuding arrogance that bordered on insanity. He stood there like a god, looking down on my suffering with the same detachment he had shown countless others before me.

I let out a gut-wrenching wail, the sound raw, full of anguish. “Mom!” The word tore through me as I cradled her body, my fingers trembling as I removed the cotton from her ears and nose then hurled it away.

Francesco’s smile was wicked, cruel, as he took a slow, deliberate step closer. His eyes glinted with a sadistic delight. “Isn’t that the best surprise ever?” His voice dripped with mockery. “Perhaps the greatest of your life. And don’t get too comfortable… There’s more coming. Every hour, maybe.”

I glared up at him, shaking with fury. “How dare you, Francesco?” My voice cracked, barely able to contain the storm within me. “You’ve taken my love from me. Now... you take her?”

His smile only deepened, a cruel twist of amusement playing on his lips. “They had to go. No hard work without sacrifice, right? I never thought I would see you cry like this. After all, you’ve taken the same toll on others. What do you think happened to the families of those you killed, Brinda?” He let the words sink in, cold as ice. “This... is karma.”

A wave of disgust rolled through me, but I said nothing. I could barely look at him, my chest tightening with grief and helpless rage.

“Anyway…” He waved a hand dismissively. “No time to waste. We have work to do. You and I.” He paused for a moment, clearly savoring my pain. “I know what you can do, but I have the solutions to all your problems.” He raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing wider.

I stood up shakily, still clutching my mother’s body, refusing to let them take her from me. “Damsel, I’m the leader of the Dante family—Mafia. We control the hardest drugs in the market. But it’s not just that. There are bigger things in play, and guess who I think can solve them?” He leaned back, puffing a cigarette with an almost smug satisfaction.

I locked eyes with him, my heart pounding in my ears. “No, Francesco. You’re wrong. I’m not your solution.”

But before I could say more, he barked out an order. “Time’s up. Guards, remove the body.”

His men closed in on me, and I fought them with everything I had. But my body was weak, my spirit drained by the grief, and I could barely hold myself upright. I wanted to fight and tear them apart, but I was powerless.

Helplessly, I watched my mother’s body being dragged away, out of my reach, disappearing into the darkness beyond the door.

A roar of fury erupted from deep within me. I darted for the table, grabbing the knife that lay in front of Francesco.

With everything I had left, I lunged at him. But he was faster. His hand shot out, grabbing mine, and before I knew it, a sickening crack echoed in my skull.

I crumpled to the floor, unable to keep my eyes open. A primal scream tore through me as I succumbed to the blackness closing in.

Some time later… minutes? Hours?—I awoke to the sound of slow, mocking applause. My hand instinctively went to my head, where the pain throbbed like a pulse, steady and unforgiving.

The room was dimly lit, and I could see Francesco standing there, a wicked smirk twisting his features.

“Welcome back!” His voice was taunting, like a predator savoring its catch. “Hope the journey wasn’t too stressful.” He laughed, but there was no humor in it—just a cold cruelty.

I shot to my feet, rage and desperation fueling me. “Do you think this is a joke?” My voice cracked, my throat raw with emotion, but I couldn’t stop myself.

“Do you?” He cocked his head, his smile never faltering. “I’m not here for games, Brinda. I’m here for business.”

He walked toward me, a glass of water in one hand, a tablet in the other. “Take this,” he demanded, his voice cold, authoritative.

I recoiled, pushing the glass away, my body shaking with anger. “Stop! Stop whatever you’re doing!” I struggled to stand, to escape him, but the weakness from earlier had returned. I couldn’t move fast enough and I fell to the floor.

He shook his head, exhaling a long, patient breath. Then, with deliberate slowness, he reached for a small black bottle from the table. “I thought you’d prefer the gentle way. Guess I was wrong.”

His words cut through me like a knife. He crouched down in front of me, cupping my chin with his cold, cruel hands. His fingers dug into my skin, forcing my mouth open, and I gasped in horror as he tilted the bottle.

The liquid slid down my throat, burning, choking. My body convulsed in protest, but I couldn’t stop him. The poison—Deadly Nightshade. I had used it before to end my targets. To send them to a world of pain before death. And now I was forced to take it.

All I have left is a year to live.

His smirk deepened as he let go of me, watching with sadistic pleasure as I gagged. My hands flew to my mouth.

Tears stung my eyes. The bitter, metallic taste of death filled my mouth, and I could do nothing but cry. My vision blurred as the poison coursed through me, but I couldn’t let go of my rage.

Francesco’s voice was low, almost gentle, as he spoke the words that felt like a death sentence. “Sometimes, the person you once loved may end up killing you,” he said, the twisted satisfaction in his voice unmistakable.

“The epic love story that never really was,” I whispered, my voice thick with tears and grief.

He laughed, cruel and triumphant. “I have no comfort to offer you. Your little prank is over. The real game begins now.”

“I still won’t work for you,” I managed to say, my voice barely audible. “I would rather die.”

Francesco’s eyes gleamed with something darker. “Success is the key when you have a willful mindset. I know you have hope in you, Brinda. You want to live. Don’t lie to yourself.”

“No,” I whispered weakly, but even as the words left my lips, doubt gnawed at me. I didn’t want to die.

“Welcome to the gate of hell,” he murmured, his grin widening. He poured whiskey into a glass, savoring the slow, deliberate motion. He raised the glass to his lips and took a sip, eyes never leaving mine.

“And I’ll be the one to usher you in by the devil’s grace.” My words hung heavy in the air, thick with finality.

The clock ticked loudly in the silence, each second pressing closer to the doom awaiting us both.

But deep inside, a spark flickered—small, fragile, but undeniably there.

The game wasn’t over because Francesco would regret every moment of it. I would make him bleed for every second he thought I was broken.

And I would make him remember exactly why they used to whisper my name like a curse—The Black Rose has just begun to bloom

$Chapter