Chapter 21: Maria Vengeance
…
Maria POV
I sat alone in the courtyard, hands covering my face, the remnants of a nightmare still clinging to me. My past, the brothel years, haunted me like a shadow I couldn't shake. I felt dirty—absolutely filthy.
All the men I had pleasured did so with hollow affection, masking cruelty behind smiles and false words. Men who abused me, using my body for their own vile gratification, men who were evil to their core. Their disgusting actions haunted me now, replaying in my mind. Why am I remembering this? Why can't I leave it behind?
I should move on, I should be stronger. But the memories clawed at me, refusing to let go, a reminder of the dirt that still stained my soul.
Lost in my thoughts, a sudden thud echoed across the ground. I looked up to see a figure fall from the sky, landing on his feet with the grace of a predator.
He wore a hood and mask—the scourge of Lannisport, my savior. Richard. The man who had saved me from that life. The boss of the Lionheart family. My boss.
"What seems to be troubling you so late at night, Maria?" Richard asked as he approached, his presence commanding even in the silence.
"I could say the same to you," I replied, trying to mask the vulnerability in my voice.
"Just finishing some favors," he said, removing his mask. His features were familiar yet jarring—a boy who had grown into a man far too quickly. Richard's face, though still youthful, bore the sharp lines of someone who had seen too much, lived too fast.
"Now then, you haven't answered my question. Why are you up so late?" His gaze pierced through me, probing for answers I wasn't sure I wanted to give.
"I… I've been having nightmares," I mumbled, unwilling to reveal the full depth of my torment. I looked down at my hands, ashamed to burden him with my past.
"Of what?" His voice was steady, unrelenting.
"Madam Allayne… what she did to me. The brothel women, what they subjected me to. I felt trapped, but now it's better because you saved me. It's better now." I tried to convince myself as much as him.
Richard's eyes softened briefly, but his expression quickly hardened. "Do you want revenge?"
I hesitated. Revenge? The word tasted bitter in my mouth, yet something inside me stirred. Yes, I wanted them to suffer. I wanted them to feel the helplessness they had inflicted on me. But something held me back—my morals, perhaps. Still, the burning in my gut, the anger, refused to let me be.
"They pay protection money," I said quietly, trying to justify my inaction. The madam contributed to the Lionheart coffers, after all.
"So what?" Richard's voice was fierce. "Protection money is a requirement, not a favor. They've never done a favor for me, and they've certainly never done one for you." His gaze intensified, unwavering. "You're my family, an important part of it. We're Lionhearts. If someone crosses one of us, they cross us all. Now, will you take your revenge or not?"
Richard stood and extended his hand to me. I looked up at him, then at his hand, my heart pounding. He was right. I wasn't weak anymore. I wasn't that helpless girl they could break. I wanted revenge. I wanted to see Madam Allayne and the others suffer.
I reached out and took his hand, my eyes gleaming with newfound resolve.
…
Jon POV
The next day
It was early morning when my men and I made our way to the brothel. This visit wasn't for pleasure; it was a mission. A mission to capture Madam Allayne.
Richard, my brother, my boss—the man who spared me and gave me salvation—the only person I feared, had assigned this task to me. Failure wasn't an option.
As we approached the brothel, two burly men stood at the entrance. They were shorter than me, and as soon as they saw us, their bravado melted away, fear clear in their eyes.
Men like this—quick to mock the weak—always crumbled when faced with true strength.
"What's your business here, sir?" one of them asked, his voice shaky as he glanced between me and the fifteen men at my back, all brimming with quiet menace.
I stepped forward, towering over him. "I want to meet your madam," I said, my tone cold and unforgiving. The man gulped, his confidence shattered in an instant.
"Alright." He said as he showed us in. I enter with all my men.
The man, pale with fear, led us inside without protest. I walked in with my fifteen men, the atmosphere shifting, tense and heavy with anticipation. The workers watched us with wary eyes, sensing something was about to happen.
And then I saw her—Madam Allayne, the madam, the reason why I'm here.
"Get her," I ordered, my voice a low growl.
My men moved swiftly. Madam Allayne barely had time to react before they grabbed her, dragging her toward me. The brothel erupted into chaos, screams echoing through the hall as the workers watched in horror, but I remained unfazed. Their fear didn't matter.
As she was brought before me, I stood before Madam Allayne, my eyes cold and unforgiving. The woman who had tormented so many, the woman who had broken lady Maria . Now, it was her turn to feel powerless.
"This is for Maria," I said, my voice cold as ice, and without hesitation, I drove my fist into her solar plexus.
The impact was brutal, and Madam Allayne gasped for air, her body folding in on itself as she crumpled to the ground. Her eyes, wide with shock and pain, looked up at me, silently pleading. But there would be no mercy.
"Get her on her feet," I ordered my men, my gaze never leaving her trembling form.
Just like that a beating ensued until she became unconscious. The two men who were guarding the brothel door did absolutely nothing.
"Destroy the place," I ordered coldly, and chaos erupted behind me as my men carried out the command. The two guards at the entrance were beaten unconscious in moments, their groans silenced by the violence of my crew.
With Madam Allayne's limp body slung over my shoulder, I marched out of the brothel, the air thick with the sounds of smashing furniture and screaming workers. The sight of the building falling into disarray brought no satisfaction, only a cold sense of finality.
As we stepped outside, five city guards waited at the entrance, their hands resting on their swords. Instinctively, I tensed, preparing for a fight, but then recognition flickered in my mind. They were familiar—members of the Lionheart family.
"Jon, what's going on?" asked one of the guards, a young man who couldn't have been more than twenty. I knew him, as I knew the others. All five were part of the family. The Lionheart family had sunk its claws deep into the city, corrupting even the guards.
I felt a swell of pride for the family and the power we wielded.
"The boss's orders," I said, keeping it brief.
That was all it took. The guards, hearing those three words, immediately stepped aside, making way for us without a second thought. They owed Richard their lives, their careers, everything. His favor and protection had secured their loyalty.
With no further interference, we walked away from the scene, leaving the wreckage behind, without a single repercussion.
…
Maria POV
As Jon led me deeper into the dungeon beneath the Black Cat mansion, my unease grew with each step. The foul stench of piss, shit, and blood filled the air, making it hard to breathe.
The dark, damp walls seemed to close in, and then I heard it—a scream, raw and filled with pain. A woman's voice, her anguish echoing through the stone corridors.
I swallowed hard, fear creeping up my spine. This was no ordinary task. Something was wrong.
Jon, however, walked ahead without a hint of hesitation, his expression calm, as though this kind of horror was routine. That, in itself, unsettled me even more. What kind of man could walk through such misery so easily?
"So, Richard told you to bring me here… but why? What for?" I asked, trying to shake off my unease. I'd expected Richard himself to guide me, not Jon.
Jon didn't answer. He simply kept walking, the woman's screams growing louder as we neared a heavy wooden door at the end of the passage.
The cries cut off suddenly, leaving an eerie silence in their wake. For a moment, I thought about turning back, but then a familiar voice called from behind the door.
"Enter," Richard said, his tone calm and commanding.
Jon pushed the door open, revealing Richard inside the dimly lit chamber. The air was thick with the smell of sweat and blood, and in the center of the room stood the woman, whose anguished screams had echoed through the dungeon.
She was bound in a cruel, torturous position, her arms and legs spread wide in an "X" shape. Metal chains secured her wrists to the ceiling, while more chains restrained her ankles to the floor, forcing her to stand in painful submission.
Bruises and cuts marred her skin, a testament to the torment she had already endured. Her head hung low, dark hair plastered to her face. Her body looked weak, barely conscious.
Richard, standing calmly beside her, glanced at me as I entered. His eyes, usually so sharp and calculating, now burned with a cold intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. He didn't need to say anything; the scene spoke for itself. This was more than just punishment—it was retribution.
"You're here," Richard said, his voice steady as if this was a routine matter. He didn't look at the woman, whose breathing was ragged and labored. His focus was entirely on me.
"Do you know why you're here?" he asked, stepping forward slightly, his presence dominating the room.
"Yes," I said as I walked toward the woman. Memories of Richard's promise echoed in my mind—he would take revenge for me.
Madam Allayne was tied up, her body swaying slightly with the movement of my approach. The stench of excrement and urine assaulted my senses, mingling with the metallic tang of blood in the air.
As I neared her, she lifted her head, revealing her face. I gasped in horror, a choked breath escaping my lips. The once-familiar features were gone, replaced by a horrifying skinless face. Her middle aged face before was gone and replaced by grotesque muscle and blood.
Richard walked beside me, placing a steady hand on my shoulder. "How do you like the art that I made?" he asked in a calm tone, his voice smooth and measured.
Despite the horror surrounding us, a smile crept onto my face. There was a twisted satisfaction in seeing Madam Allayne reduced to this state. "Can I have a turn?" I asked, my voice eager. I wanted her to suffer, to feel the weight of every life she had ruined.
Richard observed me, a pleased smile forming on his lips. He could sense my hunger for vengeance, my desire to reclaim what was stolen from me.
Jon, standing behind us, remained stoic, his expression unreadable. It was as if he were a shadow, silently observing our exchange without a flicker of emotion. In that moment, it felt like the three of us were bound by a dark understanding: the power of retribution was ours to wield.
Richard nodded slightly, granting me the permission I sought. "Go ahead, Maria. Show her the consequences of her actions."
With those words, a thrill of adrenaline surged through me. This was my chance, my moment to take control and make the madam pay for everything. I stepped forward, fueled by rage and the need for justice.
…
I did not enjoy writing this. But it must be done.