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Her body slumps in the chair she is tied to. Her hair the color of onyx sticks to her forehead, leaning forward, I brush the hair off her face.
Her skin is smooth, glowing from the light shining above us. Light freckles spread across her nose to her cheeks.
Getting up from my kneeling spot, I grab the chair leaning against the wall. I drag it infront of Vittoria, the metal scratching against the smooth floor.
I sit back onto the chair, my legs spreading open. Leaning on my elbow, I open my mouth to ask a question.
Vittoria eyes widen slowly as she looks down her arms. Her face scrunches up in cringe, her chest rises and falls as her breathing quickens.
"Vit-"
"They're everywhere," she tries to kick her feet as her words come out breathlessly.
I grab her wrist, trying to get her to calm down. I look her over, sweat beads on her forehead as she keeps squeezing her eyes closed, turning her head away.
"What are everywhere?" I try to get her listen but she keeps whisper incoherent words.
She bites her lip, trying to supress the sounds eager to leave her mouth.
"Please," the words cracks as she says it, "get them off."
My brows crease together as I try to figure out what she is talking about. The only thing I can think of is to cut the rope. Taking out my knife, I stand up and I cut the ropes off of her.
She stands up quickly, her hands sweeping over her body as her body jerks. She rips the IV from her skin, throwing it to the ground. She starts to pull at her hair, trying to get whatever is on her off.
She keeps brushing at her arms, I don't know what to do. I feel useless.
I grab her arm and freeze when I see a burn marked into her skin.
A single spider.
The body of a black widow, except there is no hourglass marking.
It's as if I'm connecting puzzle pieces without the border already made.
The symbol of the most feared assassin of the world.
Even outside of the mafia she is known.
There is no way that the woman infront of me, scared of her own skin is the same person who has killed hundreds without being found.
She stops, meeting my eyes. Her hands shaking, grabbing at my arm as I hold hers.
"Damien, I'm-" she takes in a shakey breath, "I'm so..."
Even as he shoulders shake, a grin turns up at her lips. A hallow laugh leaves her lips and she shakes her head.
"I was going to say I'm sorry, but why even lie," she laughs more, her right hand covering the burn embedded in her skin.
