~๐ฎ๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐น๐๐๐ ๐ด๐๐๐๐๐๐~
"Don't move...don't move...There you are," I smirked and was about to pull the trigger when my phone started buzzing, interrupting my focus for a split second. Ignoring the call, I re-aimed at my target and began counting down: "3..2..1."
But just as I was about to fire, my phone rang again, distracting me once more. Frustrated, I cursed under my breath and pulled it out of my pocket. It was Ana calling.
"Ana," I said impatiently. "I'm on a mission. What do you want?"
"I need you home right now!" she said, gasping for breath.
"No way," I replied, my finger hovering over the end call button. "I'm about to take this guy out."
But then I heard shuffling and a grunt in the background, followed by a stern voice: "Giselle Rose Gracia, I order you to return home immediately!"
It was Diego, my mentor and boss. I knew I couldn't ignore his call. "All right," I said reluctantly. "But it had better be good."
As I hung up the phone, I quickly packed up my rifle and other belongings and slipped out unnoticed. Running over rooftops, jumping from building to building, and sliding down a pipe to an alley, I made my way to my matte black Audi R8 parked nearby.
Driving to the estate, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. Diego never called me back before I had completed my missions. When I arrived, the guard let me in as soon as he saw my car.
Heart racing, I parked in the garage and rushed upstairs to Diego's office. But when I burst in, I found not just Diego, but also his wife Jenna and their son Dante, a close friend of mine.
Diego spoke to me calmly, which only made me more nervous. "Pequeรฑa, take a seat," he said.
I sat down, trying to keep my composure. "Spill it out, old man," I said, my tone not hiding my impatience.
"I received a call from Italy," Diego began. "Your father, the Italian mafia don Armando Moretti, has gotten news of his daughter - that's you - being alive."
I gasped in shock. "How do they know?" I demanded.
Diego sighed. "They got the Russians' second in command. He snitched on his mafia, and now they know. But don't worry, they have no idea where you are."
I breathed a sigh of relief, but my mind was already racing. Why were they looking for me now, after fourteen years? I felt an itch to torture and kill someone - it was the kind of satisfaction that comes from draining someone's blood until they bleed to death.
"I need to get out of here," I muttered, storming out of the office and ignoring their calls. I went to my room and locked myself in, wondering why my perfect life had to be interrupted now.
"Exactly why now," my conscience reminded me.