“We’re here,” Big Al speaks, breaking into my thoughts.
He pulls left, halting in front of a pair of two iron gates. I remember spending time here when he threw lavish parties, but since growing older and finding our own footing within the Dio Lavoro, the parties have dwindled and life became a business – pleasure not included. When the gates open, he throws the car into first and speeds up the drive toward his large house. We pull up directly in front of the stairs before his front door. Wordlessly, we get out, and while he locks the car up, I walk toward the house, pulling my hair out from its up do.
I notice that no other lights are on, and realize this is going to be the perfect murder. There are no staff, family members, or witnesses to see what will happen once the door is closed behind us. We walk into his house and the door closes behind us, but before we can even get the lights turned on, Big Al strikes first, and it’s not as I expected.
He’s rough with me, as he throws me to the nearby wall and covers my body. He has me pinned, not physically, but by an overwhelming sense of dictatorship and aggression.
I know, from his sheer size, that I’ll need the vial in my bag as well to kill him, but I guess feeding him drop by drop of poison will elongate his death like he wanted to do with Zane. He was left bleeding to death, so Big Al shall have the identical fate. Well, near identical, I want him to really feel the wrath of a Femme Fatale.
However, it seems my plan is going to unravel before it’s even begun.
“I know what your game is here, little girl,” Big Al spits, closing in on me. He closes the gap, thrusting fear all over me, and grabs onto my face. He pushes me further against the wall, squeezing tight enough to draw tears in my eyes. “You think I’ve not seen your type before?” he asks me, pushing me heavier into the wall that time with a crushing effect his body pins me. “I know what you’re up to, Amelia, because I know what you do. You’re a filthy, backstabbing, little murderer. Do you really think I’d be fooled by you?”
“I’ll give anything a try first,” I hiss difficultly through his grasp around my face. “Get off me, you fucking asshole!”
“Not so easy, Bella,” he converses lightly, his voice edged with grit, but the main component in his tone is soft. He uses the nickname he’s had for me since I was little girl, trying to make me feel small, insignificant, inferior. “Now, I have you right where I want you, and I’m not letting you go quite yet.” He leans his head to side, raising his shoulder to crack his neck and then straightens back up. “We’re only just getting started, and from what I’ve seen, you’re stuck here with me. No one’s going to save you.”
Unable to accept the fate he’s hinting to, I bring my knee up and slam it into his crotch. I hate I couldn’t have kneed him in the groin as hard as I wanted, but it does the job as he releases me enough to stumble backwards, hands cupping his glory. I move from my spot by the wall and across the hall.
“Come here, you little delinquent,” he spits, recovering quickly.
The name catches me by surprise, and I slow in my need for escape. It’s one my father has used on me copious times, and I wonder how much he knows about my insolence toward my family’s name. My hesitation is costly as Big Al grabs my hand and spins me around. The action was only so he can bestow a vengeful fight against me. He backhands me, and I fly backwards. My entire body feels suddenly discombobulated from its reality as I continue backwards with momentum and into a wall. I want to remain standing, but my body is so winded by the forceful blow that I end up sliding to the ground. I sit shocked for a moment, my heels now off, my face stinging, the contents of my purse scattered everywhere.
“You think you can fucking walk around looking like you do, seduce men, and then fucking kill them like it’s a fucking God-given right.” He’s back up on his feet now, slowly struggling his way toward me again.
It is a God-given right, my mind curses from deep within. The Dio Del Sangue, my father, gave me the job of seducing men to kill them – therefore this is my God-given fucking right! I force myself up, but I’m too slow for him, even without my heels on now. I yelp the moment he grabs the back of my blouse and pulls me backwards once more. I stumble over my own shoes, and he finishes me off by slamming me down against the floor. I cough as my own air is pushed from my lungs, and he swiftly kicks me, his foot connecting with my ribcage with brute force. After another two assaulted blows from his foot, his body drops down on me, and I find my real battle begin.