The Billionaire's Dark Bride

The first hit shatters his nose.

He could hear the insides of his brain pop as she hit his nose again and again.

He had stopped keeping count.

Blood splatters across her knuckles as the man fell backward, shaking like a fish, just pulled from water. His chair crashed into the concrete floor, and he tried to crawl away, his head painting the imagination that he could ever escape her.

But he knew the truth, no one ever escaped from HER.

She steps on his wrist, pinning him down.

"Where do you think you're going, Mr.?" Her voice was smooth, almost amused, as she twisted her boot, impairing his already shattered arm.

He screams.

He tried to look up at her, through his blood filled face, and he couldn't tell if he was being delusional or he just saw her smirk.

Lena walked back to her seat, as she crossed her hands and chewed nonchalantly on the pin in her mouth, one boot propped up on the edge of the metal table, as she watched him writhe in the chair across from her.

His hands were duct-taped to the armrests, his fingers splayed out like a distorted fan. Blood pooled beneath them, dark and sticky, dripping into the concrete floor.

"Please," he managed to breathe out, his voice almost a whisper. "I'll do anything. Please, just stop!"

She tilted her head, her lips forming into a little smile. She enjoyed this part, the moment it finally dawned on them that begging wouldn't save them. She reached into the toolbox beside her and out came a pair of wire cutters, the metal shining hard, under the faint fluorescent light.

"You should've thought about that before you crossed my people," she said, her voice calm, almost soothing, but nothing could soothe the man's soul, at this point.

"But don't worry. This isn't personal. It's just business."

She stood, her movements slow and steady, as she walked around the table to stand behind him. His back stiffened, his breath coming in muffled sobs , as she leaned down and whispered in his ear.

"Count with me, okay? It'll make it easier."

Before he could respond, she brought the wire cutters down on his pinky finger. The sound of bone crunching was drowned out by his scream.

Arghhhhhhhhhh," he choked out, his hands shaking as he pressed them together in mock prayer. "I'll give you anything. Money. Information. Just name it."

Lena tilted her head, her lips curling into a cold, humorless smile. She didn't bother responding. Words were wasted on men like him, men who thought they were untouchable until the moment they weren't.

She kissed her teeth as she focused on the next finger.

"One," she said.

She moved to the next finger.

"Two."

By the time she reached five, the man had passed out. She sighed, tossing the wire cutters back into the toolbox. She hated when they couldn't stay conscious

Weak ass men.

It took all the fun out of it.

She walked over to the sink in the corner of the room and washed her hands, the water running red as it swirled down the drain. She dried them on a rag, then pulled out her phone and took a few photos of the scene. The blood, the severed fingers, the dead body slumped in the chair, it was all part of the message.

When she was done, she tapped out a quick text to her boss:

**It's done.**

The response came almost immediately, as though he had been anticipating her message.

**Good. Clean up and come in. Next job's waiting.**

She slipped her phone back into her jacket, and got to work. She moved efficiently, her movements swift and precise. She wiped down every surface, making sure to leave no fingerprints behind.

She packed the severed fingers and tossed them into a cooler, along with the wire cutters and any other tools she'd used. She even mopped the floor, the bleach erasing any trace of blood.

By the time she was done, the room looked spotless, like nothing had ever happened.

The man was still unconscious, or probably dead, she checked, his breathing was shallow but steady. Lena considered leaving him like that, but her boss had been clear: *Send a message.*

She pulled out a marker and wrote on the wall above him in bold, black letters:

**DON'T MESS WITH THE WRONG PEOPLE.**

Then she grabbed her cooler and walked out, closing the door behind her.

---

The drive back to the city was like a funeral service. Lena kept the radio off, preferring the silence. It gave her time to think, to plan. She didn't know what her next job would be, but she was ready for it. She always was.

She was her company's finest treasure.

When she arrived at the undescript office building downtown, she parked in the underground garage and took the elevator up to the top floor. The receptionist nodded at her as she walked in, but didn't say a word. No one ever did.

Lena walked down the hall to her boss's office and knocked once before pushing the door open.

"You're late," he remarked, not looking up from the screen.

"Traffic," she replied dryly, dropping the cooler on his desk.

He finally looked up, his brows furrowing as he opened the cooler and peered inside. A dull smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"Good work," he said, closing the cooler and sliding it to the side. "As always."

She shrugged. "What's next?"

Her boss leaned back in his chair, studying her for a moment. "You're not going to like this one."

"I never do," Lena said, as she laid her boots on the table.

He handed her a file, his expression cold. "Adrian Cross."

Lena's eyebrows shot up. "The tech magnate?"

"The same," her boss said. "He's been poking his nose where it doesn't belong. Our client wants him taken down, well very hard."

Lena flipped through the file, her eyes scanning the details. Adrian Cross was a powerful man, with connections that reached into every corner of the city. Taking him down wouldn't be easy.

But that was what made it interesting.

"What's the play?" she asked, looking up at the ceiling.

"Infiltrate," he said. "Get close to him. Find his weaknesses. And when the time is right, destroy him."

She nodded, a slow smile spreading across her face. "Consider it done."

Her boss leaned forward, his expression stern. "Be careful, Lena. Cross isn't like the others. He's smart. Dangerous. If he figures out who you are..."

"He won't," She said, her voice dull.

Her boss studied her for a moment, then nodded. "Alright, then. Keep me updated."

She turned and walked out of the office, the file tucked tightly under her arm. As she stepped into the elevator, she pulled it out and opened the first page. A photo of Adrian Cross stared back at her, his sharp features, his piercing eyes, and his confident smirk.

Her lips curled into a smile.

This was going to be fun.