Page 73 of Influence

“Say ‘female’ again,” I snapped, stepping forward, gun cocked, and ready to unload.

Each syllable was laced with bitterness as I moved forward, my steps hammering home the power shift. “We have no use for your antiquated justifications or backwards beliefs. The era has shifted. It’s our turn to lead. We won’t be dictated to by those who pledged loyalty to a noble man and then fled at the first sign of adversity.”

Franco’s desperate protest hung in the air, his breath shaky with rage and apprehension. “This isn’t even about Juno—it’s about women?—”

“That’s right,” I cut in, my tone sharp. “And if we had dicks, you’d all be shaking in your fucking shoes.”

Avra lifted her chin and continued for me. “But we don’t. And if our actions aren’t clear enough for you, we’ll show you again and again that not having male anatomy doesn’t lessen the explosive force behind our words. Never doubt that we inherited our father’s unyielding, ruthless spirit.”

A raw, bubbling fury surged within me as I stated, “We’re just itching to blow your fucking balls off!”

Each word resonated with the promise of retribution and the unyielding spirit of our united resolve, leaving no doubt that we had finished adhering to their outdated rules.

Eighteen

NIKOLAS

My cock pulsed with an unquenchable raw desire as I drank in the sight of my formidable wife.

I felt her energy crackle in the air, an electric force hinting at a warrior who had triumphed in countless battles. She stood, shoulders back and chin up, radiating assurance like a guiding light.

Her eyes sparkled with fierce determination that challenged anyone to approach her. She was an unstoppable force, wild and formidable.

In that instant, I was entranced, admiring her majestic presence as she and Avra advanced into the syndicate’s core, exuding undeniable authority.

With every step, the sound of her heels resonated through the dim room, piercing the silence like a resolute drumbeat. I felt the intensity of their gaze, sharply observing me as I navigated through the crowd, focusing on the godfathers whose scarred faces revealed stories of violence. An undeniable aura of powercloaked them, commanding respect from men who thrived on cruelty.

Tension filled the air. The women stood strong, their steadfast gazes reflecting the confidence built through years of hardship.

They held their heads high, their eyes piercing through the facade around them, each symbolizing the battles fought against a world that often overlooked them. They embodied the avengers of a legacy tainted by sexism, and their powerful presence compelled the cruel, misogynistic men to retreat into the shadows, unable to withstand the force of their united strength.

Even with the barrel of cold, unyielding metal aimed at them, these men maintained their defiance. Their gritted teeth and sneering expressions couldn’t hide their deep-seated anger and resentment.

I couldn’t help but wonder if Juno Vitalis, the epitome of unrestrained power, were to walk into the room, whether those cowards would immediately collapse, dropping to their knees as if drawn to worship the very symbol of authority he represented.

Their pathetic refusal to accept the Vitalis sisters on their own formidable merits, simply because of their gender, was about to be met with a ruthless, unforgiving lesson in the brutal realities of the modern world.

Still, the idiot men refused to yield even with the cold steel forced up against their faces.

In that charged moment, Franco’s taunt cut through the gathering like a finely honed blade, exuding a smug, malicious intent. “Avra, you know your husband was present when your mother died, don’t you? How can you ever forgive Elias for this?”

Until that fateful moment, Avra had maintained an icy, unyielding disposition of stoic rage, her expression as impenetrable as a fortress. However, Franco’s feeble attemptto unsettle her provoked something fierce and deadly, like a tempest gathering force, ready to erupt.

“You dare attempt to drive a wedge between me and my husband?” Her temper unfurled like a coiled serpent thirsty for retribution. “You’re nothing more than a weak underling trying to cover his tracks.”

Franco’s jaw clenched. “You are?—”

“Go on,” Avra interrupted him. “Continue distorting the past, rewriting history with your lies, because everyone in this room knows the unassailable truth. Elias had nothing to do with my mother’s death. However, what you did to my parents is unforgivable, no matter how much you twist it now.”

I glanced over at Elias and noticed the same awe and admiration in his eyes as he looked at his wife, mirroring the silent reverence I felt for Layana.

Elias and Avra exchanged a silent nod, a mutual understanding forged from their shared experiences of standing strong and honorable in the face of immense betrayal.

Avra’s eyes narrowed to icy slits, her gaze slicing through the dimly lit room as she lifted her pistol, the metal glinting ominously in her steady grip.

She fixed Franco with a glare that could freeze the deepest pits of hell, her lips curling slightly in a smirk of pure derision. Her head moved side to side in a slow, deliberate motion, each shift of her neck a silent dismissal of every vile syllable that had spilled from Franco’s lips.

“When I look at you, Franco Dimitri,” she began, her eyes narrowing into slits, “I see nothing but deceit and betrayal. Were you ever truly loyal to my father? You stand here, a figure cloaked in lies, staining his memory and tarnishing his name with every breath. And now, you dare to confront me directly? Tell me, what vile rumors have you been weaving behind my back? Have you been perpetuating that disgusting lie, claimingElias was involved in my mother's death? At what point, I wonder, when will your deceit finally end?”

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