AVENA'S SECRET

She plunged the knife into his dick, sending him staggering back with a guttural scream, clutching his groin as he dropped his double barrel gun. She delivered a brutal left hook to his jaw, then a powerful right. With a swift motion, she yanked the knife from his groin, plunging it into his lower abdomen. She kicked him hard, sending him sprawling into a massive table covered with expensive liquor bottles. He crashed into it, the impact shattering glass and splintering wood, the contents spilling over him.

With a swift toss, her blonde wig hit the floor, revealing her true identity beneath. Snatching up her silencer, she advanced toward him with deadly intent, the gun steady in her grip as she closed the distance.

"Who are you?" he demanded, his voice strained with pain as he clutched his wounded manhood, the pallor of his skin a stark contrast to the crimson stain spreading rapidly.

A smirk danced across her lips as she raised the gun to his trembling face.

"You don't remember me? Take a good, hard look," she retorted, her eyes blazing with fury. Time seemed to slow as they locked gazes, the air thick with tension.

Then, with a sudden realization, his eyes widened in terror. "Avena," he whispered, barely able to choke out the name before she unleashed a flurry of bullets, each one finding its mark with deadly accuracy.

His body convulsed with the impact, blood spattering the floor in a crimson spray. But she didn't flinch. Instead, she stood over him, her gun still smoking in her hand, waiting with icy patience for any sign of life.

A buzz from the outer door jolted her back to the present. She glanced at the iPad connected to the security camera, her heart pounding in anticipation. Three looming figures appeared on the screen, his formidable bodyguards, their presence a harbinger of impending danger.

As the bald man from earlier pressed the buzzer and spoke into the speaker, her grip tightened on the gun at her side. "Boss, the meeting is about to start. They're all waiting for you," his voice crackled through the speaker, each word sending a shiver down her spine.

With lightning speed, she snatched up the gun from the floor, her fingers deftly checking the clip for ammunition before loading it with precision. Hiding in the shadows of the closet, she adjusted the iPad, her eyes scanning the screen for any sign of movement both inside and outside the hotel room.

Another buzz echoed through the room, followed by another, each one amplifying the tension in the air. As the bodyguard reached for his key card to unlock the door, she held her breath, her senses on high alert.

"Boss," the bald bodyguard's voice called out, the urgency evident in his tone. "Boss," he repeated, his words met with silence. With a wary glance exchanged between his companions, he drew his firearm, ready to face whatever awaited him on the other side of the door.

"Boss!" Another bodyguard's voice pierced the silence, but there was no response.

The bald man approached the bedroom door with meticulous care, opening it as if it might shatter under a firm touch.

Entering the room, he called out once more, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "Boss?" His heart hammered in his chest as he scanned the room, his eyes widening in shock as they fell upon the pool of blood staining the table beside the bed, once adorned with expensive alcohol.

Fear clawed at his throat as he hurried toward the table, his shouts echoing through the empty room, summoning his companions. They burst through the double doors, guns drawn, their expressions a mixture of confusion and alarm.

"What happened?" one of them demanded, his voice sharp with urgency as they closed in on the scene. The bald man knelt beside the lifeless body of his boss, his fingers trembling as he reached for a telltale clue amidst the chaos.

His hand closed around the blonde wig lying on the floor, a silent witness to the violence that had unfolded in their midst

"That slut he brought in here happened," he growled, his voice laced with anger and frustration. "Look for her," he ordered, his gaze sweeping the room with a mixture of fear and determination. "Signal the men, No one leaves this premises until that s...!"

Before he could finish his sentence, the closet door swung open with a resounding crash, and she emerged like a force of nature, raining down bullets on the three men. He dove for cover, his heart racing as he scrambled behind the bed, while his companions fell to the cold tiles in a hail of gunfire.

As she retreated back into the closet, he felt a surge of adrenaline coursing through his veins. "You're dead, woman!" he roared, firing wildly in her direction. "You're not walking out of here alive. Do you know who you just murdered?" His laughter echoed off the walls, a sinister symphony of madness.

Rolling her eyes with disdain, she waited patiently for his barrage of bullets to cease. And the moment he paused to reload, she seized her opportunity, bursting out of the closet with guns blazing. Bullets tore through the air, shattering the lights hanging on the wall beside him, sending him cowering to the ground with his hands over his head.

He scrambled to reload his weapon, the sound of his clinking bullets filling the room as he desperately tried to regain control of the situation. But she was nowhere to be found, her presence a mere whisper in the night. With each passing moment, the tension in the room grew thicker, suffocating him with its weight. The shattered glassware littered the floor like shards of his shattered resolve.

Finally, he peeked out from behind the bed, his gun trained on every shadow, every corner, every possible hiding place. The flickering light from the shattered roof fixtures revealed the lifeless bodies of his comrades strewn across the room, a grim reminder of the ruthless carnage that had unfolded before his eyes.

As he made a break for the door, a sudden pressure against his temple froze him in his tracks. "Don't shoot," he pleaded, raising his hands in surrender. But before he could react, she pressed the cold metal of the gun even harder against his skin.

In a split-second surge of adrenaline-fueled reflex, he lashed out, knocking the weapon from her grasp and delivering a swift kick. She staggered back, but her training kicked in, and she seized his wrist before he could fire. With lightning speed, she struck his kneecap, he doubled over in agony, only for her to deliver a punishing elbow strike to his jaw.

As they grappled on the floor, exchanging blows with ferocious intensity, Refusing to go down without a fight, he retaliated with a vicious punch to her abdomen, With a grunt of pain, he seized the opportunity, lifting her off the ground and slamming her against the wall. But she was not one to be underestimated, and she retaliated with equal force, grabbing a medium-sized wooden portrait from the wall and smashing it over his head.

Stunned, he stumbled to the ground, disoriented and vulnerable. But she wasted no time, grabbing a nearby vase and shattering it against his skull. As he lay dazed and bleeding on the floor, she grabbed a jagged piece from the shards of ceramic littered on the floor, and unleashed a frenzied barrage of stabs to his neck, her fury driving each blow home with deadly accuracy.

Finally, she wrested his gun from his grasp and delivered the final, fatal shot. The room fell silent, the only sound the ragged breath of the combatant, as she stood victorious amidst the wreckage of their brutal confrontation.

As she heard the ringing, adrenaline surged through her veins, propelling her into action. She rose from the corpse, moving swiftly towards her phone. Taking a moment to steady her breath, she answered, her voice a steely resolve amidst the chaos.

A sigh of relief echoed through the line. "Good, you're alive. What about..."

"He's in hell," she replied, her gaze fixed on the lifeless form before her. "Are you set?"

"Yeah," came the response, a hint of urgency in the feminine voice on the other end. "They're all there, all 10 of them. We're already 10 minutes out, so be quick. 33rd floor, huge double doors to your right. Can't miss it. But don't head there immediately, it's off-limits. Stop at the 31st, shoot your way through, and take the stairs from there."

"Got it," she affirmed, her mind already racing through the plan as she rushed to the bathroom to clean her bloodied hands.

"Is he..." she started, her voice trailing off, the unspoken question hanging in the air.

"Yeah, he's there alright," came the confirmation from the other end.

"Good. Take out the guards you can for me," she instructed, determination driving her every word.

"Already on it, taking out the ones I have sight on," the feminine voice replied, the sound of distant gunfire echoing through the line as she positioned herself on the rooftop of the building opposite the 5-star hotel, sniper rifle trained on the guards facing the enormous windows on the 32nd floor.

"Hey..." she began, a note of concern lacing her words.

"Yeah?" came the response, tinged with anticipation.

"Please be careful," she whispered softly, her heart heavy with worry.

"I will. Thank you," she replied, the weight of their shared mission pressing down upon her.

"Always my pleasure," came the solemn reply before the line went dead, leaving her alone with her thoughts and the looming task ahead.

With the weight of her mission heavy on her shoulders, she hastily stashed four reloads and two guns into the depths of her oversized suit jacket. Grabbing a medium-sized bag, she slung it across her body, the weight of her arsenal a reassuring presence against her side. As she made her way out of the room, every step felt like a countdown to destiny.

Entering the elevator bound for the 31st floor, she braced herself for the onslaught to come. She armed herself, loading her guns and affixing her suppressor, the cold metal a stark contrast to the fire burning within her veins. Her reflection stared back at her from the polished surface of the elevator doors, a haunting reminder of the path she had chosen. The oversized suit jacket barely concealed the tiny piece of lingerie underneath, a daring juxtaposition to the deadly arsenal hidden within.

As the elevator ascended to the 31st floor, she braced herself for the onslaught to come.The sound of laughter and chatter reached her ears, the six men on the floor unaware of the impending danger.

One of the men excused himself and disappeared into the restroom, leaving his comrades vulnerable and unsuspecting.

When the doors finally slid open on the 31st floor, she moved with the precision of a predator, unleashing a storm of bullets upon the unsuspecting men gathered within. Their laughter died on their lips as they were cut down without mercy, their native tongue falling silent in the face of her relentless assault.

The man emerging from the restroom was met with a chilling sight: a pile of corpses and the barrel of a gun trained on him. With a sinking feeling in his gut, he realized his fate was sealed as the bullet tore through his skull, ending his life in a swift and merciless fashion.

In the aftermath of the onslaught, she stood amidst the wreckage, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she surveyed the carnage she had wrought. But there was no time for remorse, no room for hesitation. She pressed on, her eyes fixed on the next obstacle in her path.

As she ascended to the 32nd floor, the sight that greeted her was one of carnage and desperation. Bodies littered the ground, the air thick with the metallic tang of blood. A lone man, clutching his neck in a futile attempt to stem the crimson tide, met her gaze with pleading eyes. She swiftly ended his suffering, the echo of his final gasp haunting her steps as she pressed on.

A sense of grim determination over took her as she reached the 33rd floor, her senses on high alert. Taking slow, deliberate steps, she used a compact mirror to discreetly survey the enemy's numbers, her heart pounding in her chest with every beat.

Opening her bag, she set the timer on the bomb to four minutes, the digital display ticking away the seconds until detonation. She donned her gas mask, the rubber seal a barrier against the noxious fumes to come. Releasing a canister of knockout gas, she rolled it towards the unsuspecting men, their laughter and chatter abruptly silenced as they succumbed to its effects.

One by one, they collapsed to the ground, their bodies wracked with coughs and spasms. But even in their weakened state, one man's desperation drove him to crawl towards the security alarm, his hand outstretched in a desperate bid for salvation. With a swift and decisive blow, she knocked him unconscious before he could sound the alarm, her actions a testament to her ruthless efficiency.

She advanced towards the imposing double doors, her every step measured and deliberate. The countdown to destruction echoed in her ears, a relentless reminder of the stakes at hand. As she reached for the handle, her grip tightened with resolve, the weight of her mission pressing down upon her like a vice. Taking in a final breath, she pushed open the doors, steeling herself for the confrontation lay ahead.

____

(" Perché ci vuole così tanto tempo? Non dovrebbe essere qui a quest'ora?")

"What's taking so long? Shouldn't he be here by now?" A man in a gray suit barked impatiently, his frustration evident in the sharp edge of his voice.

( "Silvio, manda una guardia a prendere Beniamino, non abbiamo tutta la notte")

"Silvio, get one of the guards to fetch Beniamino, We don't have all night," he ordered, his tone brooking no argument.

With a swift and calculated move, she burst through the door, guns blazing as she took down Silvio and the other bodyguard in a hail of gunfire. The room erupted in chaos as the sound of bullets shattered the silence, sending everyone scrambling for cover. Before they could react, bullets pierced the window, dropping two more guards who reached for their weapons, their shocked faces a testament to the suddenness of the attack.

"Sit down and put your hands up!" she commanded, taking off her mask, her voice cutting through the chaos like a knife. Hesitantly, they complied, their movements slow and cautious as they sank into their seats, hands raised in surrender.

As the tension in the room reached a fever pitch, she pulled out the bomb and dropped it onto the massive glass table, the ominous device casting a shadow over the room. Their eyes widened in disbelief as they stared at each other, the gravity of the situation sinking in with each passing second.

"Here's the deal," she declared, her voice dripping with urgency. "We've got about two minutes before this whole place goes up in smoke. You're gonna give me exactly what I'm asking for, or I'll blow us all to hell. Understood?" Her words hung heavy in the air, the threat of imminent destruction looming over them like a dark cloud.

"I'm looking for a delicate flash drive that was stolen by one of you," she continued, her gaze sweeping over the assembled group. "That said person was planning to share the information on that flash drive with the rest of you, and then you were all gonna sell it to the highest bidder. Well, I want it back. Now."

The short, stocky man's laughter echoed through the room, his arrogance palpable as he dismissed her presence with a wave of his hand. "Stupid child," he spat, annoyance dripping from his words. "Who do you think you are to just walk in here and threaten us?" he taunted, his sneer twisting his features into a mask of disdain.

Before he could utter another word, a bullet tore through the window, dropping him to the floor in a heap of shock and disbelief. The room fell silent, the sound of his body hitting the ground a chilling reminder of the stakes at hand. "Anyone else have something idiotic to say?" she challenged, her voice laced with a deadly calmness. "One minute and twenty-five seconds. You guys don't have a lot of time left," she taunted, her eyes gleaming with a fierce determination.

But even in the face of impending doom, defiance reared its head once more. "If you kill us, you'll have more than the guards out there to contend with, Miss Caruso," a middle-aged man with brown hair spoke up, his voice steady despite the danger closing in around them. "Our people won't—" His words were cut short by the sharp crack of gunfire, his body slumping to the ground as silence once again descended upon the room.

"One minute," she announced, her tone unwavering as she held their fate in her hands.

The tension in the room crackled like electricity as the tall man swept the flash drive towards her with trembling hands. "Take it. Just let us walk out of here," he pleaded, desperation etched into every line of his face.

"Who sold it to you?" she demanded, her voice cold and unforgiving. But he remained silent, his gaze locked with hers in a silent standoff.

"Answer me!" she growled, the barrel of her gun pressing against his temple, a silent threat hanging in the air. Slowly, reluctantly, he raised his hands in surrender.

"A made man from your family," he taunted, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

"That's a lie," she shot back, her voice tinged with anger and disbelief.

"Believe whatever you want, Miss Caruso, or should I say Mrs...," he began, but she cut him off with a sharp command.

"Shut up, Salvatore," she ordered, her patience wearing thin as the seconds ticked by.

His laughter echoed through the room, grating on her nerves like nails on a chalkboard. "Don't like your husband very much, I see," he goaded, his words dripping with malice.

"I said shut it," she snapped, her grip on the gun tightening with each passing moment

Ignoring his taunts, she retrieved the flash drive and attached it to her phone, her fingers flying over the screen as she entered the passwords with practiced precision. With one hand still holding the gun to his head, she scrolled through the files, her eyes darting between the screen, the bomb, the remaining men, and the one she had at gunpoint.

"You know, it took two elite hackers, quite pricey individuals by the way, to break through those firewalls," he remarked, his tone mocking despite the perilous situation they found themselves in. "And still, we couldn't access all the files. If we knew you had the passwords, we could have kidnapped you instead," he added, his words dripping with irony.

"Hmm, very funny for someone who has a gun to his head," she retorted, pressing the gun further into his temple, her resolve unwavering in the face of his defiance.

"Is that it?" the feminine voice crackled through her earpiece, breaking the tense silence that had settled over the room.

"Yeah, it is," she replied, her voice steady despite the turmoil raging within her.

"Can you please turn off the bomb?" Another man's voice quivered, beads of sweat already gathering at his receding hairline.

"Sure," she replied coolly, removing the gun from Salvatore's head and retracing her steps towards the bomb, which had only 15 seconds left to detonate. She shoved the phone and flash drive into the bag with lightning speed, still keeping her gun trained on him.

"One more thing," Salvatore interjected, his voice laced with menace.

"What?" she snapped, her eyes darting towards him just as he pulled out a gun and fired. Acting on instinct, she retaliated, a single shot piercing his skull before he could unleash another round. In the blink of an eye, the room erupted in chaos as the bodyguards pulled out their weapons and opened fire. Bullets flew, and she moved with deadly precision, returning fire and dropping those she could while the sniper picked off the rest with chilling accuracy.

"Get out of there!" the feminine voice screamed in her ear, urgency dripping from every syllable.

With only five seconds left on the bomb, she muttered a curse under her breath and darted towards it, her heart pounding in her chest. The men scrambled for the door, but she wasn't about to let them escape unscathed. With a swift motion, she fired at them, hurling herself out the door and into the hallway. Ignoring the pounding in her ears, she dashed towards the elevator, her every movement fueled by adrenaline and the ticking countdown of the bomb.

_____

Smoke filled the entire floor, swirling around her like a sinister shroud. Her vision blurred, ears ringing from the deafening blast of the bomb that had slammed her hard against the elevator wall. With every muscle screaming in protest, she dragged herself upright, her fingers trembling as she reached for the button that would carry her to safety, miles away from this chaotic nightmare.

As the elevator lurched into motion, she sank to the floor, fighting against the overwhelming urge to succumb to unconsciousness. Her phone began to ring, the sound piercing through the haze of pain and disorientation. It took all her strength to answer.

"Hey," she whispered softly, her voice barely audible over the din of destruction.

"Oh my gosh, you're alive! Thank goodness. Where are you?" the voice on the other end exclaimed with relief.

"Heading down," she muttered, her words strained with exhaustion.

"Meet me out back," came the urgent reply.

"Sure."

With sheer determination, she crawled out of the elevator, her body protesting every movement as she staggered towards the back door. A concerned hotel staff member approached, reaching out to offer assistance.

"Miss, are you hurt? Please, sit down. An ambulance will be here any minute," he urged, but she waved him off, her focus fixed on reaching her destination.

"I'm good. Worry more about the people upstairs," she managed to say before continuing on her path.

Stepping out into the cool night air, she dragged herself forward, every step a battle against exhaustion and pain. A black car pulled up beside her, and without hesitation, she climbed in, tossing the bag into the back seat as the car sped off into the darkness.

"It's going to be a bloody month ahead of us," the girl beside her remarked, her voice tinged with apprehension.

"Yeah, it will be," she chuckled, her exhaustion momentarily forgotten.

"Hey," she turned towards the girl, her expression softening with genuine affection.

"Yes?" the girl replied, meeting her gaze with curiosity.

"You should wear that red dress for prom. It makes you look like a princess," she remarked, a small smile tugging at her lips.

"Sure, I will," the girl smiled in response. "Are you okay?" she asked again, concern evident in her voice.

"Hmm," she replied with a weak smile, unable to muster more energy for words.

"Avena," the girl's touch was gentle yet urgent, her fingers brushing against her head, then her abdomen. A chilling realization washed over her as she saw the color red on her palm. Blood.

"Oh shit," the words escaped her lips in a hushed whisper, her heart pounding with a sudden surge of fear and adrenaline. Without hesitation, she slammed her foot down on the accelerator, the car lurching forward as she sped off into the enveloping darkness of the night.

AVENA'S POV

As I sprawled out on the car seat, the distant hum of the engine fading into the night, I couldn't help but chuckle to myself. Well, this wasn't exactly the grand finale I had in mind. Not the heroic exit I'd fantasized about, that's for sure. But hey, life's full of surprises, right?

Victim and perpetrator, the lines between the two had blurred long ago, and now I found myself caught in the crossfire of my own actions. Karma, they say, has a sick sense of humor, and as I stared out into the darkness, I couldn't help but wonder if this was her twisted idea of a punchline.

But before we delve into this semi-miserable ending, depending on your perspective, let's rewind a bit. Let's take a few steps back and unravel the tangled web of choices and consequences that led me to this moment. Who knows, maybe along the way, you'll come to your own conclusions about whether I deserve what's coming to me or not, or at the very least, a decent punchline to this whole mess.