The Mafia Heirs #1
Azalea (Lea), known as the 'Deadly', is a twenty years old assassin, who has had only one goal in her life : Avenge her parents' death.
She's the best of the bests. She is feared by many. She was taking down every people who were...
I'll just write this here since many people tend to skip the warnings & all. Please read;
If you're among the type of person who is going to comment something offensive and write 'NO OFFENCE'at the beginning, you know where the exit option is. Because I take the offence every time. I can't deal with this shit. If you have any problems with anything then off you go. I do appreciate constructive criticism though <3
Thank you for understanding. Sorry if I sounded rude, it was not my intention. Enjoy reading :)
UPDATE : 11/11/23 : This book is currently being edited. •─────✧─────•
|Third person's POV|
As the door swung open, a group of men emerged, gripping their firearms with unwavering determination.
The room fell into an eerie silence, broken only by the echo of their footsteps and the sound of their steady breaths reverberating through the air.
Their gaze swept across the scene before them, beholding a gruesome tableau of lifeless bodies and cascades of crimson. It took mere moments for them to discern the malevolent force responsible for such carnage.
"Find her. Now!" The boss, Logan, shouted at the other men who instantly split themselves up to look for her; the person that had been bothering them. The reason for all this on-going chaos.
After conducting an extensive search, the men returned with a subdued demeanor, their heads lowered in defeat.
"There's no one here, boss." One of them spoke as they watched the Logan clench his jaw in frustration.
Observing this, Logan clenched his jaw tightly, seething with frustration at the lack of success. "Motherfucker," he muttered under his breath in a moment of exasperation. Concealing his firearm back within its holster, Logan dismissed his men with a dismissive wave of his hand. Instantly, they dispersed, recognising his displeasure.
With men gone, Logan swiftly dialed a number, summoning someone to rectify the chaotic aftermath left behind. However, before the man could leave the place, he was shot straight in the head and fell on the ground, dead.
|Azalea's POV|
I found myself situated atop a neighboring building, positioning my firearm with precision towards the room wherein I had anticipated Logan's arrival upon detecting any disturbances. Pulling the trigger after moments of waiting felt good. It was satisfying to watch the bastard die— even though it was quick and painless.
I couldn't risk anyone knowing who I was or where I was. It was of utmost importance to maintain the secrecy surrounding my identity and location.
Proceeding to stow away my weapon within my bag, I ventured into the very structure where the demise of Logan had occurred. This man was not only involved in the abhorrent acts of human and women trafficking, but also played a substantial role in the tragic loss of both my parents' lives. This was part of my revenge. I swore that I'll take down every single person who was involved in my parents' death. Logan was one of them and now he was gone.
In order to ensure complete anonymity, I made sure that every piece of footage capturing even the slightest glimpse of my being was meticulously eradicated. No trace of my presence remained for even the most skilled investigators to uncover.
Then I left the building and got in my car, needing a well deserved bath and sleep.
Killing someone can be draining even if all I did was wait for over thirty minutes on top of a building, the sun hitting me in every direction. Like I said, draining.
The engine of my car hums softly as it effortlessly navigated the streets. I would've put on some music but my head is exploding, so yeah, no music.
Finally arriving at my sanctuary, I indulged in a much-needed moment of tranquility, immersing myself in a calming bath that washed away the residue of the day's challenges.
As the steam enveloped me, I could feel the tension melting away, replaced by a soothing sensation that seeped into my weary bones. Wrapping myself in soft towels, I exchanged the weight of the day for comfort, slipping into clothes that I usually wore for bed.
Bracing myself against the plushness of my bed, I allowed my body to succumb to the gentle pull of sleep. My eyelids grew heavy as fatigue claimed me, and with each rhythmic breath, I descended into a profound slumber that embraced me like a warm embrace on a cold winter's night.
The moment I closed my eyes, I could feel the nightmares crawling at the back of my mind, desperate to come forth and make me relive them all over again.
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