Alexandra

Exactly midnight, the convoy of all black cars arrived at the mansion’s gate. The car nearest to it horned and the guy in black tux opened. Three to four cars entered in a rush before it was finally closed and locked.

My black cloak danced with the wind. I stood on the rooftop in front of the mansion, looking down. My keen eyes scanned the whole area until I saw the men in tux roaming around. My sight on target wasn’t affected because of that. I glanced left to right checking civilians passing by. So far, there was none.

I went down the building through the fire exit ladder. I jumped almost two feet from the ground in a ninja landing stance as silent as a cat. I stood there, facing the mansion across the street.

The gate wall, filled with vines and bulb wires on top, tried to intimidate me. My continuous search for a passage succeeded when I found a small back gate with losing lock. With a slight dodge, it unlocked. I entered, leaning against the walls sideways to avoid the lights. I scanned the area and noticed the lights in an array above each corner.

I took my caliber .45 with an attached silencer and shot through the lights on the backyard’s posts. Sudden darkness filled the area without anyone noticing the situation. I walked, entering their kitchen.

When I heard two men approaching, I hid behind the wall. “Oh, why is it dark here?” one of the guys asked. "Didn't we buy a new bulb recently?"

“Yeah, we should inform the boss about this,” the other one answered. I eavesdropped until they were gone before heading upstairs and searched for the boss’s room. Doors away from my target, I flinched as I noticed his men coming. I went behind the doors and hid.

“Is the boss resting in the red room?” one of them said in deep, husky baritone similar of a middle-aged man with a smoking problem.

“Yeah. It was a tiresome negotiation with the folks,” the young man, in his twenties, responded in a disinterested manner.

“What is he up to?” the old man asked.

“He wanted to expand his pistol business. So, he talked with Monsour. That bald guy in the old-shabby warehouse near the port?” The young man scratched his head as he took a cigarette stick from his pocket. He took the old man’s lit cigar, pressing it with his.

“What’s the problem with him?” The old man kept his hands inside his pockets. He stood nearer to the young man, leaning to the wall near the door where I hid.

“He wanted more from the boss. Of course, our capo didn’t like his tone. Too arrogant to deal with. Thinking he is stronger than our organization. Our boss has a simple desire. In fact, it was the cleanest and simplest work he has to do. But, ugh, this guy. That damn bald guy needs to learn something,” the young man said.

“Why? Do we have to take his head to the boss?”

“If he asks us, we will. We should,” the young man said in an adamant manner, turning his head to my direction. I jerked and turned away from his sight. They went off away from the door where I stood.

I don’t care what they want.

I want my freedom. Nothing else more.

I peeped through the door and took a glance checking people coming through. Seeing none and getting quieter, I went out heading to the red room I assumed the mafia boss slept.

The door creaked when I entered with a pistol on my right hand. It was dim with only his lampshade on. I stood a meter away from him, sleeping with his back facing me.

As quiet as I could, I stepped a few steps back cautious of his next move. I wouldn’t know what this old man can do. “I knew he would send you to kill me.” His deep hoarse voice revealed his age. Though he looked older, his aura remained the same way when the capo held his power the first time decades ago.

He stood and turned to face me with the gun pointed at him. He smiled. “Finally, I met you, Belladonna."

I went back when I realized he knew me I never had met him before. It was our first meeting yet he acted as if he already knew me a long time ago.

I crossed my eyebrows, holding the gun tighter. “Seems like I’m getting popular these days. Good to hear that, old man,” I said, pressing my lips.

“Did he promise you a freedom in exchange of my life with this weapon of yours?” His question left me flustered, gulping as I felt surprised. Why the hell this old man knew my motive? Was he a mind reader?

As if he didn’t feel fear for his life, he walked to the big doors of his balcony. He faced there with his hands on the pockets of his maroon satin long robe. He combed his white hair strands with his fingers and faced me. “Kill me if that’s what you are here for, young lady.”

“Do you intend saying those words to me? Are you trying to insult my reputation?” My hands trembled almost losing grip on the gun while glaring at him.

“No, not at all. I pity for you,” he said in nonchalant manner. He stood in front of me with the intense glare his eyes fixed on me, raising his eyebrow.

Pity.

“Are you kidding me?” I said, trying to keep my composure. Given my notable reputation as a high-end assassin, I had never felt dejected like this before.

He giggled. “You don’t have to do this actually. You assumed you're free after killing me.” He paused and sighs. “The truth? You can have your freedom anytime you want. That prison you thought real is an outcome of your pure imagination.”

“Shut up.” I sputtered. My loud response caught the attention of some of his men. Before they could enter the room, the old guy walked towards me, trying to grab the gun from me. I dashed to him and held his collar of his sleeping robe, whispering his ear.

“Have you realized your time is almost over?” He didn’t respond nor make a sound out of fear. “I don’t need your philosophy, old man. I need your life. And it will end tonight. In my hands. You die.”

“Here. Shoot me. Shoot me, if this will give you freedom. Shoot me, Belladonna! Anyway, I’m already old enough to die tonight.” Already shaking, I felt confused. Should I pull the trigger or believe the old man’s wisdom?

For the first time, tears surround my eyes, an unusual event for me. For a woman like me capable of slaying many numbers of murders in the town’s history.

“Why are you doing this to me?” Tell me the truth, old man, why am I confused? I am Belladonna. I don’t feel anything when I kill. It’s either kill or die. I shouldn’t feel this way.

“Before you take my life, dear, let me tell you something.” A sense of panic kicked in, as I heard his men approaching the room. The old man continued to hold the gun tight, pointing to his chest. I don’t have time for this. I need to shoot him and escape.

Anxiety hit me hard. Sweat began crawling down from my forehead down my cheek. That was the first experience I couldn’t imagine happening to me in my entire assassin life.

“Before I die, always remember you deserve a good life. Start anew, Belladonna. Don’t waste your life this way. You’re a fine, beautiful woman. Live like the other normal women. Fall in love. Get married. Have kids. Not like this. Leave this dark life. Let my life be the end of it.” His pleading voice broke my heart. Too much guilt to handle.

Then, he pulled the trigger himself through my fingers. A loud gunshot echoed through the building. Surprised, I was aback seeing the old man covered with blood landed on the floor in supine. What the hell?

My hand trembled and my breath held back in, as my eyes fixed on the dead old man below me. Cold sweat covered me and panic enveloped my being, clueless about my next move. I cussed, more like a mutter. I pressed my lips while I glanced at the door.

His men opened the door and jaw-dropped seeing the capo on the floor. They pointed their guns at me.

Left without a choice, I have to fight back.

I grabbed my gun on the floor and made my offensive move. Trained for a one-shot killing, I kicked one man to the other with my knee kicks, shooting one man to the next. I jumped through the wall, back-flipped three hundred sixty degrees. I stabbed them with my dagger hidden in black leather boots.

I landed on the ground with my hand on the floor, knees bent. In a panic, I made a series of hard punches to the coming attacker. I stabbed the other behind after throwing ringed ninja blades. Pushed the next one with my long legs and stabbed its face with my high heels, gushing blood through its face.

I did the same with the second batch of men armed. They entered and pulled my gun shooting them like an array of human targets in a shooting range. All bull’s eyed. The others shoot but they failed to hit me, as if my body danced in rhythm with the bullets dashing towards me. I couldn't help but smirk.

They screamed others grunted loud glaring at me, desperate to land a single bullet on my body. Yet, none of them succeeded. I spun and landed high kicks targeting their guns now flipping on the ground.

Before they picked their guns, I stabbed them three times behind their necks, near the medulla, in one blow. Immediately taking their lives. Countless attacks made as the men rush through me. Not every single man was alive after each attack. Blood sprayed through my cloak.

Without knowing it, I smirked to the last man standing near the capo’s cold body. Cold as ice. Terrified, he took few steps back while pointing the gun at me. “W-who are you? D-did Monsour sent you to kill everybody?” I nodded, walking towards him with a dagger in my right hand.

“W-who are you—”

I jumped forward, leaving him frozen in fear and stabbed his chest until he laid on the capo’s bed. While he struggled below me, fighting for life, I placed my knee on the bed staring at him. “Do you want to know who I am?” I asked almost whispering. He didn’t seem to know whether he has the energy to respond with the deteriorating energy left.

I whispered. “I am Belladonna.” His eyes widened as a ball, turning his head facing me, scanning my features. Pale white skin. Pink cheeks, pink cracked lips. A beautiful woman. Who would’ve thought a beautiful woman like me do something like this? Only me.

“Belladonna!” He released his last sigh after saying my name in dying tone. He laid on the bed, looking more like a crucifixion on the soft mattress. His eyes opened. I rubbed his face from his forehead down closing his eyes.

Dead men piled on top of the other covered with blood. I walked towards the balcony fixing my eyes on the moon as if he looked at me with disgust and disappointment. I closed my eyes and breathed in the fresh air with a hint of strong, stench smell of death. I whispered, “It’s over.”

A sudden gust of wind caressed my face with its soft touch. My black cloak, now stained and ruined from the scratches after the fight, danced along. The deafening silence made the final touch. It was the first messed up murder I had within years. “Damn it. I almost lost,” I whispered, releasing an exasperated sigh.

I stepped towards balcony rail and climbed over. Glanced at the piles of bodies left inside the room and jumped to the ground. When I stood, glanced to the men running upstairs. I ran to the main gate and opened. I flinched.

A six-feet-tall young man stood in front of me. A good-looking man. A man who everyone described stunning. Pale white skin, pink lips, and cheeks, as if dabbed with lip tint. On top of that, a chiseled jawline and lean body impressed me. His classic fringe cut waxed and slicked back matched his black unbuttoned tux.

We stared for a second. “W-who- w-why-” Before he could continue to utter a word in a deep tone, I turned my back and ran away. Live like the other women. Fall in love. Was it possible for a woman like me or a mere fantasy?