Chapter 72

3RD POV

The gym was deathly silent after the fight, the recruits still processing what they had just witnessed. Alissa, calm and composed, wiped her hands with a towel as if the scuffle had been nothing more than a mild inconvenience.

Then, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the space, and Martin, Alexandro De Leon’s bodyguard, entered the gym. His presence alone was enough to make the recruits tense, but what came next turned their unease into full-blown fear.

“Miss Alissa,” Martin announced, his voice firm and respectful, “your father, Alexandro De Leon, is waiting for you in the dining room.”

A collective gasp rippled through the room. The recruits who had mocked her earlier felt their blood run cold. This was her? Alissa De Leon? The infamous daughter of the mafia king they had all heard terrifying stories about?

The middle boy, still nursing his bruised pride and body from the fight, paled visibly. His bravado melted into panic as he exchanged frantic glances with his companions.

“She’s his daughter?” one of the recruits whispered, his voice barely audible.

“And we disrespected her?” another muttered, his face ashen.

Alissa rose gracefully from the bench, the smirk on her lips subtle but sharp. Without sparing the recruits another glance, she tossed her towel aside and walked toward Martin.

“Let’s go,” she said, her tone calm and authoritative.

Martin gave the recruits a brief, cold stare before following her out. Once the door closed behind them, the room erupted into frantic whispers.

“She could have killed him,” one said.

“We’re lucky she didn’t,” another replied.

“What’s going to happen now? Her father will hear about this!”

Back in the mansion, Alissa walked beside Martin, her expression unreadable. She knew exactly what was happening in the gym—a mix of fear, regret, and newfound respect. It was how it always went.

When they reached the dining room, Alexandro De Leon was already seated at the head of the grand table, his piercing gray eyes meeting hers as she entered. He gestured for her to sit, his presence as commanding as ever.

“Alissa,” he said, his tone both affectionate and stern. “I trust your morning has been… enlightening?”

“It’s been educational—for the recruits.”a faint smile playing on her lips.

Alexandro chuckled softly, pouring himself a glass of wine. “Good. They need to understand who you are, mia figlia. Our name carries weight, and anyone foolish enough to forget that will learn the hard way.”

She nodded, her resolve as strong as his. The recruits had learned a hard lesson today, one they would never forget: Alissa De Leon was not to be underestimated.

"I'm going to freshen up, I will be back for breakfast," Alissa said.

"Okay. Rick is in the basement. " He said.

"You caught Rick?" She asked, surprised but amazed at the same time.

"He was obviously waiting for you to leave so that he get to your brothers, so I thought I should just get ahold of him before he does that." Alexandro shrugged.

"You actually care about them. Just admit it, dad. " Alissa smirked.

"Just go," he said.

"Okay, I'm going to freshen up then come downstairs for breakfast. After that, I will head to the basement, " Alissa said, then went upstairs to her room.

After some time, Alissa came downstairs and ate her breakfast before she headed to the basement.

*****

The corridors of the basement stretched long and dim, the faint buzz of fluorescent lights flickering overhead. She walked with deliberate steps, her heels clicking on the concrete floor, echoing like a countdown to judgment. The air was thick with despair and the sour stench of sweat and blood.

To her left and right, cells lined the walls, each holding captives in varying states of hopelessness. The prisoners stirred as she passed, their gaunt faces pressing against the bars. Some shrank back into the shadows, their breaths catching in their throats. Others simply stared, wide-eyed, as if they were gazing at the embodiment of their worst nightmares.

She exuded an aura of calm ruthlessness, her expression impassive, her sharp features bathed in the cold light. To the prisoners, she wasn’t a person; she was a force, something that couldn’t be reasoned with. A wisp of hair escaped her sleek bun, but even that seemed perfectly in place, as if she controlled even the smallest details of her presence.

In one cell, a man whispered, “It’s her. The Angel of Death.”

The name rippled down the corridor like a wave. The captives trembled, some muttering prayers under their breath, others choking on silent sobs. They knew her reputation. Stories had spread like wildfire about the mafia’s enforcer, the girl who could break men twice her size with nothing more than a cold glance and a blade in her hand.

She didn’t pause or look at them. They weren’t her concern tonight. Her target lay ahead.

At the end of the corridor, a steel door waited, imposing and heavy. Two guards flanked it, their backs straightening as she approached. They nodded in silent acknowledgment and stepped aside, unlocking the door without a word. She pushed it open, the hinges groaning in protest, and stepped into the room.

The man lifted his battered head to look at her. His expression twisted into something between a grimace and a grin. “So, the prodigal daughter finally comes to visit,” he rasped, his voice heavy with mockery.

Alissa stepped into the room, letting the door close behind her with a decisive click. Her gloved hands adjusted the cuffs of her tailored coat as she stared at him, unmoving, her gray eyes fixed on his bloodied face.

“It’s been a long time, Rick,” she said, her voice like a blade—sharp, precise, and cold.

Rick chuckled, though it ended in a coughing fit. Blood splattered onto the floor, but he still grinned. “Not long enough, if you ask me.”

She remained silent, her gaze steady, her presence suffocating. Rick shifted in his restraints, the bravado in his eyes dimming slightly. He knew her far too well to mistake her calmness for mercy.

“You’ve grown up,” he said, leaning back in the chair. “But I’ll never forget those little hands of yours, dripping with the blood of my men.”

Alissa tilted her head, her lips curving into a faint, humorless smile. “And yet, here you are. Alive. Mistakes were made.”

Rick’s jaw clenched, the false confidence cracking just a little. “I should’ve killed you when I had the chance,” he growled. “But don’t think for a second that I’ve forgotten. I’ve spent years waiting for this moment.”

She stepped closer, each step deliberate, her heels clicking against the concrete floor. “And what moment would that be?” she asked. “The one where you end up tied to a chair, beaten and broken, begging for your miserable life?”

He laughed bitterly. “You think this is over? It’s only the beginning, princess. You killed my men and ruined everything I built when you were just a child. Do you know what that does to a man? I swore I’d take from you everything you loved. That’s why I sent that letter. Your brothers… they’re just the start.”

Her jaw tightened, but her face betrayed no emotion. Instead, she pulled a knife from her coat pocket, twirling it between her fingers. “You’re right about one thing,” she said, her tone as icy as the room. “This is only the beginning.”

Rick’s eyes flicked to the blade, his bravado slipping further. “You’re not your father,” he spat. “You think you can scare me? You’re just a little girl playing at being a monster.”

Alissa crouched in front of him, her voice dropping to a whisper. “And you’re just a man who forgot what happens when you corner a monster’s cub.”

The words struck him like a blow, and the memory of her childhood escape resurfaced—the screams of his men, the trail of blood, and the eerie calm of her face as she emerged from the carnage. She had been unstoppable then, a mere child. Now, she was something far more dangerous.

“I gave you a chance to leave me in peace,” she continued. “But instead, you came for my family. That letter was your final mistake. As if that wasn't enough, you even sent your son to kill my brother on the ring”

Rick’s face paled as she stood, the knife gleaming in her hand. “Wait,” he stammered, panic creeping into his voice. “We can talk—”

“You already did,” she interrupted, her voice steady. “And now, it’s my turn.”

The sound of Rick’s screams filled the basement, muffled by the thick concrete walls. The prisoners in the cells outside whispered prayers, pressing themselves against the bars as the legend of the mafia king’s daughter grew.

And Alissa? She worked silently, methodically, ensuring that the man who had haunted her past would never touch her. She didn't kill him, though at least not for now.

____________________________

If you forgot, Rick was one of Alissa's regular kidnappers when she was young. He was mentioned in Chapter 11.

Whereas for the fight with Rick’s son and Alissa’s brother was mentioned on chapter 43 or something.

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