*ALLEGRA GREY POV*

I rinsed off the shampoo and fresh blood from my hair, grateful that I was finally able to finish my damn shower.

I dried off, and quickly stepped into my walk-in closet. The racks were all filled with mostly black clothes, but I did have some splashes of color here and there.

My shelves were filled with designer brands: Gucci, Hermes, Fendi, Louis Vuitton, I had most of their collections. However, I always ended up wearing the same thing most days: a black tank top and ripped black jeans.

I didn't care much for looking fashionable while I was slitting someone's throat. Besides, black went with everything and it didn't show when you got blood on the fabric.

I reached in a drawer and pulled out my usual outfit before I walked over to the door in my closet. I swung it open and walked into my shoe room, because a shelf just wasn't enough.

My hands grazed each pair as I walked past. If there was one thing I loved, it was my shoes. Knowing I was about to get dirty, I threw on a pair of worn-out combat boots. I quickly braided my hair in a long French braid that fell at my hips, the same way I usually did whenever I went out on a mission.

I walked over to my desk in the corner of my room and grabbed my half empty pack of cigarettes. I made my way out of the room, shoving the box into my back pocket before closing the bedroom door behind me.

The basement was where we kept most of our prisoners, and it was honestly my second favorite place in the house. My father relied on me to get information, and trust me, I was damn good at it.

As I descended the last flight of stairs, I laid my eyes upon the entrance to the basement. There were four men guarding the door, each with a stoic face and semi-automatic rifle. They acknowledged me with a quick nod of their head and swiftly moved aside.

"Your father's already in there." The bald one said. I nodded before I placed my hand on the ID scanner. I waited for a moment as the scanner flashed white before turning green, beeping for a moment and causing the metal door to slide open.

I popped a cigarette between my teeth as I walked through the door. I pulled out my zippo lighter, flicking it open with one hand as I inhaled. I slid the sleek black lighter into my pocket as I hummed Paint it Black by The Rolling Stones. I took a mental note to get an elevator installed as I made my way down five flights of stairs until I reached the cells, each also with individual ID scanners at each door courtesy of my overprotective father.

I found the one I needed and placed my right finger on the scanner. It beeped in recognition, and I joyfully walked inside.

This'll be fun.

The dim room was only illuminated from the single light hanging from the ceiling. My father and two men were standing in front of our prisoner, most likely waiting for me to arrive before getting started. There was a rectangular table pressed against the wall displaying different devices and tools.

The assassin's hands and feet were zip tied to the back of the metal chair he was sitting in. Still unconscious, his head hung low as blood dripped from the gash in his head.

"Those things will kill you, you know." My father scolded, nodding to the cigarette in my mouth.

"Trust me, Dad, when the devil comes for me, it won't be because I smoke too many cigarettes." I laughed as I leaned against the wall, propping one leg up and crossing my arms.

My father rolled his eyes at me dramatically before he made his way over to the assassin. I blew smoke out of the corner of my mouth as I watched my father grab the man roughly by his hair.

"Wake the fuck up." My father yelled as he held the assassin's head up. He cocked his fist back before punching him across the face, making the man's eyes open rapidly as he let out a grunt.

"Who do you work for?" My father asked as he grabbed his face roughly, forcing him to make eye contact.

"Go... fuck yourself." The prisoner hissed through his teeth. He then threw his head back a bit and spat in my father's face. I watched as my father slowly dragged a hand down his face, wiping off the spit that just hit his cheek.

"Oh, you're in for it now." I laughed from the shadows.

My father released a barrage of punches to his face, filling the air with sounds of his knuckles hitting his cheekbones. He then kicked the man in the center of his chest, causing the chair to tip backwards and fall on the floor.

I watched as my father walked back towards me, his attention focused on his now bloody knuckles as he leaned against the wall.

"Go have some fun, baby girl." He grinned as he looked up at me.

"Oh, with pleasure." I said with a smirk as I finished my cigarette. I pushed off the wall as I flicked my cigarette onto the floor.

"Stand him up." I commanded the guards as I walked over to the table in the back of the room. I sighed as my eyes gazed upon the different devices and tools at my disposal. Feeling reckless, I smirked as I grabbed the large drill and four long screws.

I grabbed another metal chair in front of the table and dragged it across the concrete floor, filling the air with the sound of scraping metal until I was directly in front of the assassin. I turned the chair so it was backwards before I grabbed the back of it and sat down. I leaned forward on the backrest as I stared at our prisoner with my head tilted and a small smile on my lips.

The man stared back at me with uncertainty painted in his eyes. A deep scowl graced his lips as he attempted to mask his fear. I grabbed another cigarette from my pocket and slowly lit it as I inhaled deeply. Our eyes locked as I exhaled the smoke into the air above him.

"What's a little bitch like you gonna do?" He said with a thick Russian accent.

"Your boss must not have told you who you were sent to kill." I mumbled through my cigarette.

"Now, I'm feeling generous today. So, I'll ask you this one more time. Who sent you?" I asked seriously.

"Burn in hell. I'm not telling you shit." He shouted as he leaned his head forward.

"Why did Moskov send you?" I said sternly before taking a long drag of my cigarette.

His eyes widened immediately, confirming my assumption that he was sent by the one and only Vladimir Moskov.

"Your branding is of the Russian Mafia." I said, unamused, as I lifted my chin, answering his unspoken question of how I knew.

The Russians were the only ones to brand their gang members as an initiation. It was always the same symbol with their mantra, "Death Before Disloyalty" written in Russian underneath. Anyone who was involved in organized crime knew that brand and who it belonged to.

"Now, why did Moskov send you to kill me?" I asked again, now losing my patience.

"Like I said. I'm not telling you shit." He sneered through his teeth.

"Wrong answer." I said, still looking him in the eyes as I put my cigarette out on his forehead, making his piercing screams fill the room.

Music to my ears.

After a few moments, I removed the cigarette from his head and flicked it carelessly to the side. I reached down and grabbed the drill, revving it a few times before turning my attention back to the prisoner. I placed the screw on the center of his hand, staring at him as sweat began to form on his forehead.

I smirked before I drilled his hand to the chair, making him bellow out in pain.

"Why did he send you?" I asked again as I grabbed another screw from the floor.

He remained silent before letting out a small whimper from the pain. His breathing was ragged as he stared at me with wide eyes. I impatiently drilled his other hand to the chair, causing him to cry out once more.

"For such a big man, you scream like a bitch." I laughed as I grabbed the two remaining screws near my foot.

"Why were you sent to kill me?" I asked again as I stood up.

"I hope you burn in hell!" He screamed as I moved my chair out of the way.

"EEEHHH. Wrong answer again." I said annoyingly as I kicked his chest in the exact spot my father did. The chair tipped over roughly, bouncing slightly as his body hit the floor. I bit the end of one of the screws, holding it in my mouth as I worked on his ankles.

As the man began screaming in agony, I put down the drill and reached for my knife.

"You have very beautiful eyes for a Russian." I stated, caressing his cheek with my blade.

"Are those specks of blue I see?" I said as I got closer to his face and tilted my head.

"Now, if you don't tell me why Moskov sent you I'll rip those pretty eyes out of their fucking socket." I warned as I inched my blade towards his eyes.

"Okay, okay, okay, I'll talk, fuck, woman!" The assassin screamed as my blade caressed his eyelid.

"Moskov's coming for you, and your whole family. He wants to take over your business. Even after I'm dead, more will replace me. He's coming for you, Greys, so you better be ready." He explained evilly before he smiled and let out a raspy laugh.

Vladimir Moskov had the audacity to not only send a shitty assassin to take my life but to threaten my family? The thought of someone plotting against the ones I loved infuriated me. No one fucked with my family and lived.

I quickly moved my blade to his throat, and a fluid motion I slit it open. I slid my knife back into its holder before walking back towards my father. His eyes were wide and his hand was pressed against his chin, something he did when he was often deep in thought.

"My office. Now." He ordered as his eyebrows furrowed deeply. We made our way to the exit. Before walking out I looked back at the guards before my eyes traveled back to his convulsing body.

"Make sure to leave his brand intact so I can send it to Moskov." I ordered before I walked out of the room with my father.

"I've trained you well, Allegra." My father said with a smile as he beamed with pride.

The walk back to his office was eerily quiet as we both wrapped our minds around the assassin's threat. The Russian Mafia was not to be fucked with.

Our Mafia was known to be one of the most powerful in the world with our closest rival being the Italians. But the Russian Mafia easily had us outnumbered. They were allied with the French, and with their combined numbers the two Mafias on their own could devour us.

I entered the office and made my way to the sofa, while my father sat behind his desk. I watched as he rested his elbows on the desk while his hands rested on his chin.

"Well, fuck." He finally spoke as he looked over at me.

"We finally became a big enough threat to Moskov that he wants to take us down. If anything, it's a compliment." I said as I smirked.

"He has many powerful connections, and many allies. Knowing Moskov, he wouldn't launch an assassination against another Mafia without his allies backing him up." He said sternly while crossing his arms.

"We just need more allies than him, plain and simple. Maybe we can persuade Fernando to help us end Moskov once and for all." I suggested. "Our Mafia is powerful enough that if we have another powerhouse backing us up, we can easily end the Russians, as well as all of their allies." I said seriously as I crossed my arms.

"I'll make connections at the ball while you try to get on Fernando's good side. The Mexican Mafia would be a good choice considering we already do business with them." He spoke seriously as he intertwined his fingers together.

"Understood." I said as I nodded. I stood up and started to make my way to the door when my father cleared his throat.

"Allegra Sky." My dad spoke softly.

I turned over my shoulder with my eyebrow raised. The only time he ever used my middle name was when I fucked up.

"You'll make a great leader one day and I'm proud to be your father. I'm certain that you'll not only thrive in my position, but excel me in every way. I'm so proud of you." He said sincerely as he smiled. He walked towards me and embraced me in a heartwarming hug.

Not knowing how to react, I tensed up immediately. Moments like this were so uncommon in our household. I was trained to never show emotion, to never be weak. But it did feel good to have my father's support.

In the history of organized crime, there had never been a female Don. Other families doubted my father for trusting his eldest daughter to take over the Mafia. For years they suggested that he find another heir, a male heir. They were pushing for him to even adopt a son to prevent me from taking over. He was told that I wasn't fit for the job, and I'd cause the organization to crumble.

So, I made it my life goal to prove everyone wrong, to prove myself worthy to take over the American Mafia. That I could not only lead this organization as a woman, but take over the entire industry. That Allegra Skylar Grey would go down in history as the most ruthless, cold-hearted Don that ever lived.

"Thanks, Dad. I love you." I tightly hugged him back, and exited the room before the situation got awkward.