Page 47 of Mafia Princess

“I can make this quick. Or I can make you scream for your mom. Just tell me why they killed her?” I watch him pissing his dignity all over his polished wooden floors.

“I don’t fucking know,” he groans, reaching for his stab wound.

Swinging my leg, I kick him in his side and he crashes to the floor, landing in his piss. I stomp my boot on his wrist closest to me and squat down. His face resembles a smashed tomato, all sweaty and red. The funny thing when death stares you in the face, you either take it like a man or try to outrun it. This piece of shit is handling it like a big girl.

He swings his arm to get a hold of me, but I’m too quick for him, I snatch out my gun and aim at his hand. The bullet makes a dull fleshy sound as it shreds his hand to pieces, the blood splattering all over him and me. He cries out and thrashes his arm about, trying to escape me.

“Tell me why she was killed,” I whisper as I slice my knife tip over his skin until the blade hits my boot, watching the bright red blood pour out in mesmerizing patterns.

“Because she was a martyr,” he howls, the pain finally getting to him.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I press the gun to his head as his whimpers bounce off the office walls.

“I will never tell you,” he spits at me.

The moment is here and I put pressure on the trigger, savoring victory. “Who killed her, Bianchi?”

“Fuck you.” He glares at me, his breaths heaving in his chest.

“Wrong answer, fucker.” I pull the trigger and put a nice hole in his head.

Standing back up, I look at my handy work, dissatisfied with it. This was too easy and too clean a kill. I need to make a statement. I want whoever killed my mom to know I’m coming for them.

I turn the safety back on and tuck my gun in my jeans against my back. I look at my knife and then at Bianchi’s neck and the best fucking idea pops into my fucked up head. I squat back down and hack at his neck, slicing my blade through his flesh like butter. The first few layers are easy to cut through, but the fleshier parts are giving me trouble and I feel as though time is getting away from me.

I pull out my phone and text Luca to come help.

“The fuck are you doing?” He barges through the door and stops mid-step.

“Trying to make a point,” I huff. “This is fucking harder than it looks.” I stand up and survey my progress, wiping my arm across my forehead.

Luca closes the door behind him and strides around the desk to stand next to me. “Give me your knife.” He takes it out of my hand and squats down next to Bianchi.

In a few seconds flat, he’s severed the dead mobster's head straight off. I’m a little turned on.

“We need to get the fuck out of here.” He jumps back up and hands me my knife.

“I’m fucking impressed.” I look down at Bianchi’s head as it sits separated from his body.

“You just need to know where to cut, babycakes.” Luca winks at me, grabbing my hand and dragging me toward the door.

“Hold up, I have another idea.” I squat down and grab Bianchi by the hair and haul his head to the desk, dumping it in the middle. I collect the cash that he was counting before I rudely interrupted him and follow Luca out the door.

We emerge to see the two dancers still waiting around to lock up. “Here, take this and get out of here. Don’t ever come back.” I push the thousands of dollars into their hands and exit the building.

“You’re not getting into my car in those clothes.” Luca refuses to unlock his Lamborghini.

“Seriously?” I glare at him. “Fine.” I strip down to my underwear and hold my dirty clothes out to him. He dumps them in the trunk in one of the black garbage bags he has endless supplies of.

He unlocks the car and I climb in, watching him text on his phone as he revs the engine. He glances at me, taking in my lack of clothing, and waggles his eyebrows.

“Don’t even think about it. I need a shower.” I hold my hand up to him.

“Already thought about it,” he eyes me darkly.

“Who are you texting?” I probe.

“Enzo, to try to get the surveillance tapes before anyone else.” He exits onto the main road and floors it, making me hit my head against the headrest.

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