It was a gruesome split-screen of chaos. On one side, Victor's rampage at the club; on the other, Alia's screams in the mansion.
The Velvet Sin Club: Victor's Fury
Fire spat from the barrels of Victor's twin pistols. He didn't fight like a man; he fought like an invincible beast. Within the first three seconds, three hitmen were dead with bullets between their eyes. Using a flipped table as a shield, his aim was surgical. Every thought of Alia's safety fueled his brutality. He roared:
"Anyone who dared touch my home will burn here tonight!"
The Petrov Mansion: Alia's Agony
At that same moment, the silence of the mansion shattered. Five masked intruders broke through the bedroom window. Alia had just woken up, dressed in her expensive, white silk sleeveless nightdress. As she tried to stand, a killer grabbed her by the hair.
During the struggle, shards of broken glass sliced through Alia's arms and legs. Vivid red blood began to soak into the pristine white silk of her gown. She screamed in terror:
"Let me go! Don't hurt my children! Victor... Victor will kill you all!"
One of the killers laughed darkly:
"Victor is already on his way to hell. And you? You are our primary leverage. Victor will lose his mind seeing this beautiful body covered in blood!"
Alia fought with everything she had, her white dress now stained heavily with red. Suddenly, the sound of heavy boots echoed from the hallway. Victor's father, the old Mafia Lord Alexander, stood at the door, clutching a massive shotgun.When Alexander entered with the shotgun, there was no mercy in his eyes. But as he prepared to fire, Alia screamed—
"No! Stop! I want to spill their blood with my own hands!"
Alexander paused, stunned. He saw the helplessness vanish from Alia's face. From within that quiet girl, a bloodthirsty witch had awakened. Alexander stepped aside with a twisted smirk; he wanted to see just how dangerous his son's choice truly was.
Still in her blood-stained white nightdress, Alia pounced like a tigress. She wasn't just a mother; she was a high-ranking undercover agent who had hidden her identity all along. Even Victor's father didn't know that Alia was known as 'Silent Death'—the agent whom even the deadliest assassins feared like the grim reaper.
As one killer reached for her, Alia spun with lightning speed. She grabbed a heavy crystal vase and slammed it onto his head with brutal force.
A sickening 'crack' echoed through the room. His skull shattered, spraying blood across Alia's face and her white gown. The man collapsed without even a chance to scream.
Alia picked up a shard of broken glass and advanced toward the next one. Her eyes were fixed and icy. She was both a Mafia God-mother and a psycho agent. Her style of attack was so sadistic that the very men who came to kill her were now begging for their lives.
Alexander whispered to himself:
"Victor was right. This girl isn't just a gem; she's a living volcano."While Victor was busy creating hell inside the club, he had no idea that a revolution had taken place in his mansion. Alia was no longer the helpless woman crying under the sheets. She had returned to her true self—Agent 'Silent Death'.
Over her blood-stained white nightdress, Alia threw on a long black leather trench coat from Victor's wardrobe. Her body still bore the stains of blood, but her eyes were fixed on her target.
Victor thought he owned Alia, but he didn't know that she had over 10 supercars hidden in a secret section of the garage, completely invisible to his surveillance. These cars were custom-built with stealth technology to evade any radar.
Alia pulled back a dusty black cover at the far end of the garage. Beneath it lay a jet-black Bugatti La Voiture Noire—one of the world's most expensive and fastest cars. She had hidden it for her own clandestine missions.
She hopped in and hit the ignition. The engine's roar sounded like a hungry beast. Alexander watched from the balcony in shock as the "quiet girl" sped off, leaving a trail of tire smoke and smashing through the main gates.
Gripping the steering wheel, Alia hissed:
"Victor, you wanted to cage me? Today, I'll show you how a dragon flies when it breaks its cage."
Alia knew Victor was in trouble at 'The Velvet Sin' club. She floored the accelerator, heading straight for the chaos. With her bloodied white dress visible beneath the black coat and a Glock in her hand, she looked like a goddess of destruction. Passersby saw nothing but a black shadow streaking through the night.The scene outside the club was a symphony of death. Victor had already finished the slaughter inside. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, his face was splattered with blood, and his eyes were void of any humanity. He dragged the masked woman out by her hair, throwing her onto the cold pavement.
Victor pressed the barrel of his gun against her forehead and spoke in a voice like cracking ice:
"Killing you is a one-second job. But before you die, tell me—who did you send to my mansion?"
At that exact moment, on the roof of a towering building across from the club, Alia lay flat in the shadows. Her expensive white nightdress peeked out from under her black trench coat, fluttering in the cold wind. She was holding a heavy Slammer Sniper Rifle, her eye pressed against the scope. She had arrived just in time to cover Victor's back, unknown to him.
Through the crosshairs, she could see the sweat on Victor's neck. Her finger was steady on the trigger, ready to eliminate anyone who dared to jump him from the shadows.
But then, disaster struck.
As Alia shifted her weight to get a better angle, her boot accidentally struck a loose stone at the edge of the roof. In the dead silence of the night, the stone tumbled down, hitting a metal pipe with a loud clank.
Victor's instincts were legendary. His head snapped up instantly. He caught the faint glint of light reflecting off the sniper's lens. He didn't know it was Alia; to him, it was just another assassin waiting to take his head.
Without a second's hesitation, Victor kicked the woman down to use her as a shield and aimed his pistol directly toward the rooftop where Alia was hiding.
Alia froze. She was now in Victor's line of fire. She could see his finger tightening on the trigger. If she revealed herself, she risked being shot before he recognized her. If she stayed silent, he would definitely fire.Just as Victor was about to pull the trigger, the silence of the night was shattered by a deafening crack. But the bullet didn't come from Victor's gun.
From the rooftop, Alia's sniper rifle roared.
Right before Victor's eyes, the masked woman's forehead exploded. Alia's aim was surgical; the woman didn't even have time to gasp. The person who had been bragging a second ago was now a lifeless heap on the asphalt.
Victor froze. As an elite operative himself, he recognized that shot. It wasn't the work of a common hitman. It was the signature style of 'Silent Death'.
Lowering his pistol, Victor stared up at the ledge and roared:
"Who's there? Show yourself!"
Alia didn't hide anymore. She stepped onto the edge of the roof. Under the glow of the streetlights, her silhouette became clear. Victor couldn't believe his eyes.
Alia stood there, her expensive white nightdress drenched in blood, her black trench coat billowing behind her like dark wings. With her messy hair and the massive sniper rifle in her grip, she looked like a Goddess of Death.
She looked down into Victor's eyes, her voice cold and echoing:
"You were taking too long, Victor. You were wasting time talking, while those dogs you let into my home ruined my dress. So, I settled the score myself."
Victor stood silent for a heartbeat, then suddenly burst into a dark, maniacal laugh. He realized the "sparrow" he had tried to cage was actually a blood-soaked eagle.
He reached out his hand from below and shouted:
"Come down, my Dark Queen. Tonight, we burn this city together."
Highlights of this Chapter:
The Reveal: Victor finally sees Alia's true nature she is no longer a victim, but an equal predator.
The Aesthetic: The contrast of the blood on her white silk gown symbolizes her loss of innocence and her rebirth as a killer.
The Partnership: Victor isn't angry; he is obsessed with her power.Alia showed no rush to descend. She sat casually on the roof's edge, as if she had just finished a routine task. She pulled an expensive silver lighter from her coat pocket, her fingers still stained with fresh blood.
She placed a cigarette between her lips. As the lighter's flame reflected in her pupils, she looked like a stunningly psycho goddess. She took a long drag and exhaled the smoke into the night air. The swirling smoke masked her blood-spattered face in a mysterious haze.
Below, Victor watched, mesmerized. Before him was no helpless woman; here was a perfect assassin who maintained her grace even amidst death.
Alia took one last drag and flicked the cigarette down. Instead of using the stairs, she began to descend the roof using pipes and ledges with the agility of a professional agent. Her white silk nightdress fluttered in the wind like a blood-stained flag of war.
The moment her feet hit the ground, she walked straight up to Victor. Victor grabbed her waist, pulling her close. The scent of her perfume mingled with the sharp smell of gunpowder.
Victor leaned in, his forehead against hers, and whispered:
"Were you always like this, or did my darkness change you?"
Alia gave a twisted smirk:
"I was born this way, Victor. You just gave me a reason to wake up. Now, let's go. We have a leaked file to recover."
She pulled out the keys to her hidden Bugatti and began twirling them. Victor looked across the street at the jet-black supercar, realizing his 'Dark Queen' had many more surprises in store for him.