2 Bound

Adelaide

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I smirked and shot like a bullet to the window breaking the glass and ready to take the jump, only to be met with a strong pair of arms pulling me back into the room.

A blunt object made contact with the back of my head and the world went dark.

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When I woke up, I didn't open my eyes.

I could hear people speaking in low whispers away from me and I didn't need them to know that I was awake yet.

From what I could tell, I was sitting on a wooden chair, hands bound behind my back and legs tied. My middle was free.

They hadn't stripped me of any of my weapons yet, meaning that Romano was either dead or on the verge of it. These guys were amateurs. At least they had put some sort of fabric over my eyes.

I had small blades stashed all over my body. Conveniently, I had one in the sleeve of my hoodie. I had sewn it into the edge of the hoodie a few days before. I knew I couldn't cut the cloth that bound my hands right now when an unidentified amount of people were in the room with me. With the cloth over my eyes, I couldn't see an escape route. In this situation, I had two options.

The first was to keep quiet until they left, revealing where the exit to the room was. That is, assuming that everyone in the room left which was highly unlikely.

The second option was to wake up. I knew that Romano would need intense medical attention and lucky for them, I had the antidote on me just in case I myself got cut. Using this as leverage, I could get myself out of the situation. The problem arose from the fact that the antidote was hidden underneath my left shoe. And I was no longer in possession of my left shoe. Crap.

How long had I been here?

"Cosa diavolo vuoi che faccia?" A voice shouted, startling me.

Translation: (What the hell do you want me to do?)

Shit.

Silence followed before I heard a few steps being taken toward me. The cloth that was tightly secured around my eyes now lay on the floor.

I looked up to meet the eyes of a very angry man.

"How long have you been awake?" He said to me. I didn't recognize his voice.

I stayed silent and looked away.

How the hell am I going to get out of this now?

Out of nowhere, his hand came down, slapping my cheek. I winced. He had a ring on and I could feel the blood starting to flow out of the cut that was left behind.

"You do not seem to understand the situation you are in. Maybe I can enlighten you." He said slowly backing away. I hoped he was the kind of person who liked to talk because I liked to listen. It bought me valuable time.

My pointer finger found the little slit in my hoodie sleeve where I stitched in the small knife. I kept only one nail long for this reason and this reason only.

"Let's recap shall we? You broke into our leader's private chambers and held a knife to my good friend Adrian over here." He said while gesturing to the man he was talking to earlier. If Adrian wasn't such an amateur he wouldn't have given me the chance to put the knife there, was what I wanted to say.

All the stitches in my sleeve were individually stitched meaning I had to take it apart one by one.

I broke the first stitch.

"Then," He continued, "You tied poor Adrian up and stabbed our boss."

I broke the second stitch.

He looked at me from across the room. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

I nearly broke out laughing right then and there. If he was trying to be threatening, it really wasn't working. He sounded like a parent that had just caught their kid coming home after curfew.

A silence so deadly it could kill settled in the room.

A minute passed, then two.

I stopped sawing at the stitches, I didn't want to give myself away.

The man finally broke the silence.

"You failed your job, Romano lives. We found the cure in the other shoe. You're a creative one aren't you?"

His voice was void of any emotion, making it hard for me to see if he was lying, so I looked over to Adrian. I caught a quick glance he threw to the talkative man.

I needed to bluff my way out of this.

I looked him right in the eyes and put on my biggest grin.

My heart was beating a million miles a minute. I couldn't go back empty-handed. Take the bait, I thought to myself. Please just take it.

To my dismay, without missing a beat, he mirrored the grin that was displayed on my face.

"Lo prendo io." The man said to Adrian the amateur.

(Translation: I'll get him)

He turned to me

"Non mi manchi troppo bambina."

(Translation: Don't miss me too much little girl.)

I cringed inside but I didn't let him see it, my language skills gave me the upper hand. When going through training I was taught Latin. Plus, in my line of work, it's better to be safe than sorry and to prepare I had brushed up on Italian vocabulary. Though I couldn't speak fluently, I could get the gist of what was being said.

He walked out of the room through a grimy door, leaving behind Adrian.

I continued to break the stitches in my sleeve. With three already given way, I only had four more.

Adrian pressed himself against the wall. He was scared of me. Ha.

"Are you scared, little boy?" I purred at him.

He was around 5'9 with dark eyes and dark hair. He seemed muscular, which explained his cockiness the first time I met him. Muscles can only take you so far.

"I'm not scared and I'm not little either." His voice had a heavy accent.

The fourth stitch broke.

"You should be scared of me, I'm not tied to a chair."

I laughed. "You are very observant, little boy."

I needed him distracted. He wasn't as experienced as the previous man and he was falling straight into my trap.

The fifth stitch broke.

I leaned forward, pretending to look amused and then abruptly leaned back, making the chair squeak against the floor. It wasn't bolted down.

The sixth stitch broke.

"So tell me about yourself, Adrian," I said, emphasizing his name.

When he didn't reply, I kept going.

"Did you like the feeling of my knife against your throat Adrian?"

The last stitch broke. Finally.

I pushed my finger into the small crevice and wrapped it around the razor-sharp blade. I felt the familiar sting of tearing skin and pulled it out of the sleeve. I used my thumb to hold it against my skin as I got a better grip on my mini, but lethal weapon. The fact that the item they had used to bind my hands was not a rope, but cloth made my mission much easier. I started to cut.

"Do you like scary movies, Adrian?"

He looked away. I continued to cut through the cloth.

"Adrian."

He looked back towards me, clearly annoyed.

I cut through the cloth, but I didn't free my hands yet. It wasn't the right time. I needed him closer to me before I could make my move. I had to go for his pride. I smiled.

"Are you a virgin Adrian?"

I watched as his face contorted in anger and he made his way over to me. So predictable.

"Sei una cagna!" He shouted, getting his fist ready to punch me. He went for the face, a predictable move. I saw my opening and I didn't hesitate. I dodged his punch, stood up, the chair still attached to my ankles, and punched him straight in the nose.

(Translation: You are a bitch!)

When his hands instinctively went to his nose, mine went to my back where one of my bigger knives lay. I pulled it out of the top of my hoodie and slashed the cloth that bound my left foot.

Adrian lunged at me in an attempt to pin me to the ground, an action I easily dodged. Seriously, who trained this guy? He fell to the ground and wasting no time, I launched my smaller blade into his right calf. The blade may be small but it picked up more speed and from that throw, I could tell it was well and truly deep in his calf.

I slashed the last piece of cloth that bound my right foot.

Adrian shakily got up and I almost felt bad. We weren't even in the same league. He stepped forward, his weight now on his left leg and swung at me.

I dodged the pathetic excuse for a punch and kicked his left leg, making him lose his balance. I took the opening and kicked him straight in the stomach, sending him flying into the wall.

The sickening sound of his head sitting the concrete wall filled the room. My kicks were to die for. Literally.

When he didn't get up, I walked over to him and lifted him by his hair. I pulled him towards me and thought about whether I should kill him or not. He was an attractive boy and looked about 20 years old. Muscles protruded through his shirt, sweat glistening. Gross. He was not my type.

He was not very skilled which begs the question on why the hell the fucking mafia would leave him of all people with an assassin who was trained in these exact situations instead of someone who knew what they were doing. I doubt they would've underestimated me. No, it had to be something bigger than that.

This boy was a risk and one I was not willing to take. I didn't find pleasure in killing those who were not my target but I had done it in the past and I was ready to do it then.

"May God have mercy on your soul, little boy," I whispered to him before slicing his throat open, spraying blood over the grey walls.

I let the boy out of my tight grasp and lay him on the floor. I'm sorry it had to end this way little one. I needed to sign for the death. I started at the top of his forehead and dragged my large knife down his nose and over his mouth stopping at the end of his chin and leaving a thin red line behind. My signature was nice and simple.

There is no place for liabilities in this world.

I knew I needed to get out of the room. Now that I was temporarily free, I was able to take a look around. Nothing of any value, there were no windows. One way in and out. I looked up and saw something that caught my eye. A camera. That smart mother fucker.

I walked over to the camera and pondered over what the best course of action should be.

I went back to Adrian and clutched his neck, making sure to get my hand soaked in his blood, and smeared it on the camera lens.

I've always had a flair for the dramatic.

I burst into a fit of giggles. Here I was with a mission gone south, a dead body and my shoes nowhere to be seen. Laughing. Laughing at the absurdity of the situation. I didn't even know how long I had been sitting in that chair for, and I laughed harder for it. To any other person, I would've sounded like an utter maniac.

That is until a deep baritone voice interrupted my comedy show.

"What's so funny?"

I snapped back to reality and looked at the entrance. In my temporary loss of sanity, I hadn't heard the door open. I'd made a mistake. A very big mistake. The man who stood before me was supposed to be dead. He was my target, Romano Acerbi. His gun was pointed directly at me.

I was, quite literally, caught red-handed.

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