Heyyy mate! here's some character info. about the main characters... and bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla... and this book is just to ease my imaginations, and I want to show you what weird things my mind shows hehhe...

Sylvia Cosette Monroe:

French/American

25 years old

Top paid assassin

Seductress

Characteristics:

Black hair

Blue eyes

long wavy hair

hourglass body

plump and pinky lips

(If you'll against it, feel free to imagine whatever you want. Ain't my mind

anyways( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°))

Main weapons: Knives, and beauty

Family/ Friends:

Michael Fontana

Alayah Jaz Walker

Antony Jake Walker

Mason Drakes

Eli Parker

Chase Carlo Luksien

Ares Diovanni Santori:

Italian

27 years old

Don of the Italian mafia

CEO of the Santori Industry

Characteristics:

brown hair

grey eyes

sharp jaw

(whatever you want, just imagine him like he's a god himself)

Main weapons: Guns

Parents:

Adriano Domenico Santori

Margaretta Leona Santori

Siblings:

Aurelio Dante Santori

Angelo Datteo Santori

Antonio David Santori

Andrea Delilah Santori

Second/Third in command:

Nicolò Emmanuel Riccio

Michael Fontana

A/n:

I'll add an author's note here cuz I can't post it when it's less that 500 or whatever reason, just ignore this bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla blabla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla blabla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla blabla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla blabla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla blabla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla blabla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla blabla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla (*sighs)..

I'm kidding here's the real one.

Trigger Warning⚠: sexual assault, mention of guns and drugs, violence, human trafficking, and deaths

I just wanted y'all to know there won't be smut in this book... Maybe I'll put some, but I don't know. I don't feel comfortable writing some..

Anyway, there might be some grammatical errors or others cuz it's my first book, don't expect it to be perfect. And English is not my first language, so..

If you find anything that may need editing just contact me though.

Ps: this is my original story, I didn't copy it to anyone

And credits to the owners of the pics I used.

Anyways enjoy!!! bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla lhaksixhjsksks sjksks kskskks jskkskxoxix jaidikdkd jaksi kisok jsksksk

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I bit my lip, holding back the tears that threatened to fall.

"I will do worse next time if I catch you stealing food again," he said as he buckled his belt and walked away.

I waited patiently for him to exit the room completely.

Sobs filled the room as I finally allowed myself to cry and release all my pain, wincing when I lightly touched my bruises.

This time, I didn't think they would fade in just a few days.

I lay in my scratchy bed and allowed myself to sleep, exhausted from all the pain.

.

.

.

.

I wake up to the sound of yelling coming from downstairs.

I glanced out the window, 'it's getting dark' I thought. I'm used to the fights between my foster parents, and I don't really care if they kill each other.

But then I hear footsteps approaching the door, my heartbeat quickened.

Then I saw him, holding a gun. Fear filled me as he stormed towards me, and pinned me to the floor. I struggled but didn't cry because I knew it would annoy him more.

"Stop struggling, bitch," he said, his eyes filled with fury. He began removing my clothes, and I fought harder, hoping he would let me go.

I couldn't help it, tears started falling as he continued to take off my clothes.

Then I spotted a bottle of beer under my bed. Thinking it might be my only chance to escape, I quickly grabbed it and smashed it over his head.

"You motherfucker!! " he shouted pointing his gun at my head. "I'm gonna kill you for that, fucker" he continued.

Before he could hurt me again, I quickly took a piece of the broken glass and slit his face with it. I never stopped, I continued again and again

I then stabbed his arm, which was holding my clothes. He let out a scream, and that was the best thing I could ever hear, but he took out a knife in his pocket and stabbed my thigh.

Why the freak does he have a knife there! I screamed in pain and shoved him away, but he got a hold of my arm earning another stab from him.

Groaning, I endured more stabs, all in my legs. Then... just as I thought he would stop, the pain that followed was almost unbearable, but I found a sliver of strength, a desperate surge of adrenaline. I punched him and grabbed his gun, then I pulled the trigger, aiming for his head.

He collapsed on top of me, unconscious. I shoved him away, disgust mixed with the pain in my own body. The tears flowed again, relentlessly. He almost touched me!

.

.

.

.

After what felt like an eternity of crying, I found the courage to stand. This is my chance to run, to escape.

I quickly went down stairs. But before I could get to the door, someone pulled me.

"Where do you think you're going, girl?" My foster mother questioned holding me tight  in place.

I didn't answer. But instead I pushed her hard that she fell to the ground.

She screamed at me, but who cares. I need to get out of this place. I ran to the door stumbling, groaning at the pain in my legs.

I ran and ran tell I can no longer see that terrifying house. Only then I was able to relax. I let out a sigh of relief. Finally.

I walked, numbly, hoping that someone would let me in for shelter. It's freezing, my blood-soaked clothes doing little to ward off the chill.

"You alright, kid?" A deep voice startled me. I quickly turned to find the owner of the voice, then saw a figure in the shadows of the alley, slowly approaching.

When I can finally see him clearly. I took a good look at him. He had tattoos peeking from his neck. A well defined jaw and a very broad chest. He's handsome too, I thought.

As he stopped in front of me I suddenly flinched.

"Hey, it's okay. I won't hurt you," he said, his gaze falling on my bloodied clothes. "Looks like you've been through a lot."

I didn't answer, I just stared.

"Why don't you come with me?" he offered. But I hesitated, thinking if I can trust this stranger in front of me. 'Don't trust a stranger' is a famous saying after all

"I won't hurt you," he reassured me. "Maybe I can help."

"Help me?" I frowned.

"How did you know I needed help?"

He suddenly chuckled, making me startled. "I have eyes, yah know. " he replied eying my blooded clothes.

I quickly looked down at my body. Oh yeah, I'm injured. I mentally rolled my eyes.

"Okay, I'll go with you. " I whispered.

He smiled, and gently patted my head. "This way." He led me to a black SUV. Oh yeah! This guy's rich, I thought.

He opened the passenger door and guided me in. He helped me till I'm sitted comfortably. Only then he went to the passenger side to get in.

I looked outside the window as he drove. Admiring the city lights that I last saw when I was 8, before I was locked in that damn place.

The silence in the car wasn't awkward, just... peaceful.

"I'm Michael by the way, but you can call me Mike," he said breaking the peaceful silence.

"Sylvia, Sylvia Monroe," I responded. "But my Nana calls me Sivi." I added, smiling at the thought of the only person who truly cares for me. She's my foster mother's aunt, but she loved me like I was her own.

"That's a nice nickname," he said, smiling back at me.

"Thanks," I replied genuinely.

"You can call me that too, if you want." I suggested.

"Sure." he said grinning. "So how old are you, Siv? " he asked.

"I'm turning fourteen next month. " I answered, as he hummed in response.

.

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.

.

"Here we are." I looked out the car window at my now new home. It was....huge.....a very modern house, I may add......and it had a swimming pool! 'I already love this house,' I thought, my eyes filled with excitement. Mike chuckled at my reaction as he parked.

"Who's she?" a boy who looked my age asked as  soon as we entered the house.

"Omg, it's a girl!" another voice exclaimed. This time it was a girl, accompanied by a few other boys who cast curious glances at me.

"Everyone, this is Sylvia," Mike introduced me to them, and I quickly learned their names. The boy who asked about who I was, was Mason. The girl's name was Alayah, and she was the only girl apparently. Antony was the tallest one, Eli was the slightly taller one, and Chase was the youngest. I also learned that Alayah and Antony were siblings, which wasn't hard to believe, they both had blonde hair and green eyes.

Alayah and I connected immediately. We talked for hours, sharing our stories, our favorite music, everything. She was the second person I felt I could trust.

Later on, I learned Mike's true purpose, to train us, to teach us how to fight, to kill. But unlike my previous tormentor, he was also a caring father figure. He owned several clubs, a little trivia most of the country's successful clubs and businesses are owned by the Santori family, the most powerful family in America, even though they're Italian . But, anyways, Mike's real goal was to help abused children like us, to give us the tools to fight back, to protect others. To help us become something more.

The shrill ring of my phone ripped me from sleep.  "What?!" I snarled, snatching it up.

A chuckle. "You wouldn't want to disappoint a customer, would you?"

"Who the hell orders anything at this hour? I'm not a goddamn pizza place," I snapped, my annoyance audible.

"What the fuck are you talking about?  What order?" the voice retorted. "Aren't you… an assassin?"

'Oh, right,' I thought. "Who is it?" I asked, already knowing what he wanted.

"Fabio Ramirez. I'll send the details." He said as he was about to hang up. "How much?" I interrupted.

"One hundred thousand dollars."

One hundred thousand?  TF?  Seriously?  "No," I said flatly. "Find someone else. I don't come cheap."

"Wait!" he pleaded, a desperate edge to his voice. "You're my only option.  I need it clean, quiet. You're the best amongst all."

A smirk played on my lips. "Then pay accordingly." 

I heard a sigh. "Fine. Eight hundred thousand."

"Much better," I purred.

"It's a pleasure doing business with you. You'll hear news from me tomorrow night."  I hung up, and slipped back into bed in my penthouse, to continue my disturbed sleep.

Five years ago, I moved out of Mike's place.  I still visit often, though. They're my family after all. The rest of the gang is still there.  I was the only one to leave Alayah on the other hand, was hesitant at first, cuz I mean who wouldn't miss me?? but she eventually came around.  I needed my own space. And here I am at my luxurious penthouse and I became one of the country's top assassins, highly paid, well-known, and feared.  The thought brought a self-satisfied smirk to my face… then darkness claimed me once more.

.

.

.

.

"Siv? Where are you?" Al(Alayah) 's voice crackled through the phone.

"Coming," I mumbled, the toothbrush in my mouth muffling my words.

"Still in the bathroom?" Al's sarcastic tone was practically audible.

"I overslept," I explained defensively. "Got a midnight call about a job.  Not exactly my fault." The gang knows what I do, and surprisingly, they're supportive.  Mike, however, decided to join a mafia. I have no idea which one, and honestly, there's little I can do to change his mind if he's determined.  As long as he's safe… for now.  We all know how volatile that world can be.  It's not my place to interfere, though.

Alayah, on the other hand, walked out of the mafia life, choosing the assassin path like me. We often collaborate on missions.  Today, however, is our weekly shopping spree.

We see each other almost daily, yes. But there's something special about spending our hard-earned cash together.

With a final rinse and a swipe of my tongue, I tossed the toothbrush, and went immediately to my walk in closest.

(If you don't like that outfit. I don't care........... Just kidding, I really don't care........Just imagine anything you want)

I quickly slipped on my dress, and took my heels. A quick touch of lipstick and a stylish pair of sunglasses to complete my OOTD. Honestly I don't need much make up to make myself beautiful.....I know right, what can I say I'm gorgeous.

I started the engine of my car and drove towards our pre-arranged meeting point. The quiet hum of the engine and the rhythmic pulse of the city around me provided a soothing counterpoint to the adrenaline still coursing through my veins.  This wasn't just shopping it was our ritual, a celebration of our survival, a testament to our enduring friendship forged in the crucible of a life less ordinary. We were survivors, and this was our reward. And also........It's my Birthday!!!

I know........I'm already 25. Sigh, how fast time can be.

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.

I pulled into a side street, my sunglasses perched on my nose, I read the café's name to see if I'm in the right location.  This must be the place. Al wanted coffee before our shopping expedition.

Stepping out of the car, I walked straight into a wall or rather, a very hard, very well-defined chest. Goddamn! As a deep voice, thick with a decidedly Italian accent, cut through the air.

"Do you have eyes, signorina?"  he sass, he's voice dripping with annoyance.

I looked up, prepared to unleash my usual witty retort, but….fuck. This man's gorgeous. Those muscular biceps. And...he's tall, maybe 4 inches taller than me.... I know I'm tall. I'm like 5'9. And he's undeniably handsome.  Seriously, who sculpted this specimen? The gods themselves, I suspected.

Urghh! No matter how gorgeous he is, he doesn't get to talk to you like that, Sylvia. Get a grip.

But then… He's so hot, I mentally drool. My gaze lingering a little too long. I think I might faint!

Snap out of it! I gave myself a mental slap.  I quickly averted my eyes to look at his perfect face, only to find him staring right back.........and his gaze lingered a little too long on my chest.  WTF?

"Eyes up here, signor, " I retorted, hands planted firmly on my hips. "And keep them there.  Don't you dare look at my babies like that!"

An amused smirk played on his lips. "Babies? You named your breasts?"

" Yeah, and they're named after their cousin, now stop staring." I snapped, my voice laced with sarcasm, he was about to reply when I cut him. "And, my apologies for the… collision." The annoyance dripped from my voice as I swept past him and into the café. He doesn't get treat my babies like that. How dare he!

Alayah was waving frantically from a small table near the window.  As I approached, she pulled me down beside her.

"So," she began, her eyes twinkling with mischief, nodding towards the man I'd just encountered. "Who was that hottie?"  The sarcasm in her tone Mirrored my own as I only rolled my eyes in response.