“Do you hear the whispers? (belladonna belladonna)
They talk of a new queen rising with a wicked smile and toxic fingertips
They urge each other to be aware of a heartless laugh and a flash of golden hair
They say her name rings true for she has all of the grace and beauty of a flower
But as venom drips from her lips it’s not hard to see she has the poison too
Do you hear the shouts? (belladonna belladonna)
“I trust you to deal with this right away.”
With a gun gripped between her slim fingers, and a knife strapped to her thigh, Sophia stalked down the dark alleyway beside her bar. Clenched between the fingers of her other hand, was the crumpled material of Luca Cancio’s tie as she dragged him along behind her.
The stocky man stumbled behind her, drunk and irresponsible enough to forget of his slight upon the Don.
Mercello D’Onofrio was making a statement. His wife was to be respected, and no matter how slight the crime against her be, he would enact a swift punishment.
Or more accurately, Sophia would enact the punishment - at least until the youngest D’Onofrio boy was healed and could resume his duties.
Her grip on the ugly tie tightened, and she swung Luca out in front of her, pushing him up against the filthy brick wall hidden by the shadow of a large garbage-bin. Her gun drew to the spot between his glassy, unfocused eyes and the man - so unbelievably drunk - did not react at all. He was far too intoxicated, to the point that even Sophia had a heavy sense of regret settling deep in her stomach.
But then the back door to the bar could be heard opening, the sound echoing from the other end of the alleyway, and Sophia was cursing. Her gun wouldn’t do.
The blade slipped from her thigh beneath the black silk dress and carved a line across Luca’s throat.