Paid Stories Badge Paid Story
There are 7 more free parts

3

776K 21.2K 34.2K
                                    

*ALLEGRA GREY POV*

I watched as Ace disappeared into the shadows until he was out of sight. A scoff escaped my lips as I grabbed my rifle bag and started running towards my other escape route. I was always well prepared for my missions, and made sure to map out three or four alternate exits in case of emergency.

I reached the back of the building and crouched by a nearby window. I grabbed the strap of my rifle and secured it to my back before I reached into my pocket and took out a pair of black gloves. Not wanting to leave any fingerprints, I slid the gloves onto my hands. I slowly raised my head up and peered through the glass to see that the north side of the building was completely surrounded by cops.

"Lovely." I said sarcastically before I pushed off the wall and ran towards the south side of the warehouse.

I quickly ran up the stairs as the northernmost door burst open, revealing dozens of New York's finest aiming their automatic weapons directly at me. I ducked as I continued up the stairs, bullets piercing the wall behind me before I reached the next floor.

I ran across the barren room, increasing my pace as I heard the rumble of footsteps following closely behind me. I quickly reached the other end of the room, and found the tall, narrow window nearest to the fire escape. I lifted my right foot and used my momentum to kick the glass, shattering it instantly. I looked over to the left and saw the rusted fire escape. I stepped up onto the edge of the window before jumping towards the platform. I grabbed the rail and pulled myself up onto the platform.

Without missing a beat, I sprinted towards the end of the fire escape and grabbed the rail. I pushed myself up and over the railing, jumping off the edge and down into a nearby alleyway.

I rolled as I landed, absorbing the impact before I gracefully stood up and turned the corner. Faint sounds of automatic rifles began to fade from the distance as I made my way towards my vehicle.

I dug into my pocket, pulling out my keys and pressing the push to start feature. I turned the corner to see my all-black LaFerrari roar to life, making a large smile stretch across my face as I opened the driver's side door and slid into the leather seat. I carelessly tossed my sniper rifle into the passenger seat before taking a much-needed deep breath.

As my adrenaline died down, I felt a sharp, shooting pain in my arm. I cautiously took off my leather jacket that was now drenched in blood, and evaluated the wound in the rear-view mirror. It was deep and jagged, definitely in need of a few stitches, but that inexperienced prick missed my artery so it would be fine.

It was a forty-five minute drive to the safe house, and bleeding out from a knife scratch was not on my list of "Ways I Would Like to Die." I took off my white tank top, exposing my black lace bra, and wrapped it around my arm to slow down the bleeding. I bit a piece of the fabric between my teeth, pulling it with my head to tighten it as much as possible.

I peeled out of the street and made my way towards the safe house, making sure to take the long route in case I was being followed. As the street lights passed by me in a blur, I felt blood drip down my bicep and my thoughts drifted to the "assassin" that has added yet another scar to my body.

Ace motherfuckin' De Luca.

Out of the thousands of assassinations I had executed, he was and continued to be my only failed mission. We'd been out to kill each other for eight years. And for eight fucking years I'd been hunting him down only for that fucker to reappear again and again.

Ace was the heir to the Italian Mafia, as well as their "best assassin". The Italian Mafia wasn't our only rival, but they were definitely the biggest pain in the ass we had.

The Italian Mafia and the American Mafia had been at war for decades. Our hatred for each other started when my great great grandfather was killed by Ace's great great grandfather. (A lot of greats, I know.) Since then, it'd been nothing but bloodshed between our two families. Wives, uncles, children, husbands... countless casualties on both sides. We were killing each other mercilessly in pursuit of revenge that had long outlived our ancestors.

My knuckles gripped the steering wheel, turning white as I imagined all the ways I would kill that annoying prick. I wanted to make sure his death was so agonizingly painful that when I was done with him, he'd be begging for the blessing of death.

Lost in my thoughts of torture, I didn't notice how much time had passed. I recognized the area immediately and felt relief pour through me as I neared the safehouse. I pulled into the isolated street and made my way through the lush forest surrounding me. Our safe house was away from the hustle and bustle of New York; we liked to keep our isolation, for obvious and illegal reasons.

I pulled up to the first checkpoint, scanned my fingerprint, and watched as the black iron gate slowly slid open.

"Welcome home, ma'am." The guard spoke, attempting to keep his eyes off my exposed chest. I acknowledged him with a swift nod as my Ferrari roared past the gate.

I made my way to the second checkpoint and typed in the ridiculously long code my father insisted on having. He changed it every week. I praised my photographic memory as the second gates swung open.

I pulled in front of our mansion, which had more security than the damn White House, and parked in front of the garage. I walked out, and threw my leather jacket over my shoulders before locking my car. I made my way to the fifteen foot tall double doors and swung both of them open roughly.

Like always, the House was alive with movement and noise from the gang members that lived here. But as the doors swung open, the usual bustle that accompanied the mansion vanished, leaving only the sounds of my boots hitting the marble floor to pierce the tension in the air. I scowled at the members who were blatantly staring at me, watching as I walked through the manor in nothing but a bra.

"Horny motherfuckers," I thought to myself.

I made my way to the kitchen, my favorite place. I opened the fridge and grabbed a water bottle and an apple from the counter. As I was about to take a bite from my apple, I paused mid bite, feeling a presence to my right. I glanced over to the table where at least 20 men were staring at my breasts, mouths open.

"If you want to keep your dicks attached to your body, I'd recommend turning the fuck around." I hissed before taking a loud bite from my apple.

Their bodies immediately turned, and they turned their attention to different areas of the room. I felt satisfaction run through my body. I loved the effect I had on people.

I made my way to my father's office, eating my apple on the way there. There were multiple wings within our mansion, all obnoxiously large. Walking from the kitchen, which was in the east wing, to my father's office in the west wing felt like a mile walk.

As I finally made it to his office, I barged in without knocking, causing his two double doors to explode open.

Over My Dead BodyWhere stories live. Discover now