Alia's mission was the final act in reclaiming her self-respect. To properly discipline the girl who had once dared to insult her in public, Alia chose this particular ensemble. The sharp blades hidden beneath the folds of her dress were proof that Alia was in no mood for mercy today.
The atmosphere was stifling when Alia reached the girl's home. When the girl saw her, her face filled with intense hatred, for she knew exactly why Alia had come. The time to settle the score for their past humiliation had arrived. Without a word, Alia stood face-to-face with her. She didn't just defeat the girl in a war of words; she ground every ounce of her arrogance into the dust.
When Alia drew the weapons from beneath her skirt, the girl turned to stone in terror. In a calm, cold voice, Alia said, "Did you think you could get away with insulting me? In my world, there is no forgiveness for mistakes only consequences." She taught the girl a lesson she would never forget. Driven by the thirst for retribution, Alia didn't just break the girl physically that night; she shattered her completely on a psychological level. By the time Alia walked away with a triumphant smile, the air in the girl's house was thick with misery and the bitterness of defeat. Alia had not only avenged her insult but had demonstrated exactly how terrifying the consequences could be for anyone who dared to question her character or dignity.
The villainous girl's arrogant voice broke the silence of the room: "You? Alia, my daddy's wife, right?" There was a note of disdain in her tone, as if she were belittling Alia's identity.
But Alia was not the least bit fazed. A cold, cruel smile played on her lips. She took a few steps toward the girl and, in a voice as cold as ice, replied, "Tsk... maybe that's what you think. But I am not just a wife; I am a Russian Mafia Godmother. And destroying a girl like you is merely a matter of time!" Her voice flared with sudden intensity as she spat, "You f*cking girl!"
Without a moment's hesitation, Alia revealed her true colors. She lunged at the enemy team single-handedly. The fight was brief but devastating. With the speed and cruelty of a trained professional, Alia launched attack after attack. Within mere moments, twenty members of the enemy team were groaning and collapsing to the floor. No one could match her lethal precision.
When the battle ended, the floor was littered with broken bodies. Alia's expensive clothing was splattered with their blood. She stood calmly, gently wiping a drop of blood from her lip with her finger before licking it off her tongue. There was no remorse in her eyes only the primitive satisfaction of victory. With a twisted smile tracing her blood-stained lips, she whispered, "This is how you pay for your insults."
After decimating the twenty men of the enemy squad, Alia walked slowly toward the girl who had been standing there with such arrogance just moments ago. The girl's eyes were now filled only with the terror of death. Alia stood before her and, without a single moment of hesitation, executed her final decision. The moment was bone-chilling every movement Alia made was precise and merciless.
Even as the girl's life faded away, Alia's eyes remained unfaltering and cold. She knew that in this world, there is no room for weakness. After finishing the task, Alia did not linger for a second. The surroundings were deathly silent, save for the sound of Alia's heavy, rhythmic footsteps. She swept her wet hair back, adjusted her blood-stained white dress, and walked out ofthe room. There was no guilt in Alia's mind, for to her, this was the only path to reclaiming her honor the rightful justice of a Russian Mafia Godmother.
Alia turned to her bodyguard and issued a cold command, "Leave no traces behind. Clear everything." Her tone carried an undeniable authority that compelled the bodyguard to get to work immediately.
Once finished, Alia climbed into her luxury car. Clad in the same blood-stained white dress, she looked like a goddess of destruction. The car sped toward Viktor's mansion.
When she stepped into the drawing room, Viktor was waiting by the window. Hearing her arrive, he asked in a low, gravelly voice, "What took you so long?" His gaze was intensely observant, as if he were trying to read every movement Alia made and decipher the lingering intensity that clung to her.Alia walked straight toward Viktor and, without a word, wrapped her arms around him from behind. Her white dress was still soaked in blood, and those deep crimson stains transferred onto Viktor's expensive shirt. Viktor felt the warmth of her body, but his gaze remained fixed on the blood staining her dress.
Breaking the heavy silence, Viktor said in a low, cold, and certain tone, "Is it over?"
Resting her head on Viktor's shoulder, Alia whispered back with a mysterious and slightly cruel smile, "No, Viktor... the real game has only just begun. There is so much more left to do."
Her voice carried an intensity that made it clear her hunger and fury had only multiplied after today's events. Viktor realized that his wife was not just a typical Mafia Godmother—she had transformed into a force of absolute destruction.
Viktor turned around slowly. There was a profound and complex serenity in his eyes. He gently cupped Alia's blood-stained cheek, the touch of his fingers sending a jolt of intense sensation through her. He then pressed a deep kiss to her forehead and lips a kiss that was both a claim of ownership and a silent pact of their dark alliance.
After the kiss, Viktor left the room without a single word. This silence was not unfamiliar to Alia. She understood that Viktor would not ask any more questions, for he knew exactly what Alia was about to do next. There was no need for words between them anymore; they both understood that the next steps would be even bloodier and more ruthless. Alia stood alone in the vast drawing room, and as the sound of Viktor's footsteps faded, she realized that Viktor, too, was now fully consumed by the thrill of the hunt, standing right beside her.
The next morning, a heavy silence hung over the dining table. Viktor knew Alia was still processing the aftermath of the previous night's blood-soaked mission, but her silence was pushing the limits of his patience. He set his fork and knife down on the table with a sharp clatter that echoed through the quiet room. Viktor's eyes blazed with intense fury; he continued to eat, staring straight ahead, refusing to look at Alia.
Alia kept her eyes fixed on her plate. She could feel Viktor's silent rage, but at that moment, her own heart was heavy. She had expected Viktor to acknowledge her courage or speak to her, but this cold indifference shook her confidence. A tiny hint of moisture gathered at the corner of Alia's eye, which she quickly masked. Catching her reflection in the crystal glass on the table, Alia realized she had stepped onto a path of darkness where love and destruction were inextricably intertwined. Their silent battle made the air in the dining room feel stifling and suffocating.
Viktor's cold indifference and harsh behavior were pushing Alia to her breaking point. Suddenly, Viktor insulted her, acting as if what she had done was beneath him. Breaking the silence of the table, Alia sat up straight. Her blue contact lenses pierced deep into Viktor's eyes.
In a calm but sharp voice, Alia retorted, "Viktor, you are just like me! Have you forgotten what you do yourself? You are disgusted by the blood on my hands today, but you were the one addicted to this blood and violence. Why does it bother you now that I've learned to embrace the blood just like you? Or does seeing this power in me hurt your male ego?"
Alia's direct challenge stunned Viktor. He hadn't expected her to hold a mirror up to him like this. The rage in Viktor's eyes dimmed slightly, replaced by a strange mixture of fury and the uncomfortable recognition of the truth. Alia rose from the table, every step carrying the grace of a Mafia Godmother. She walked very close to Viktor and whispered, "I learned everything I know from you, Viktor. So, don't be afraid of this side of me; learn to accept it instead."
Viktor's eyes blazed like fire. Alia's bold and direct retort had struck a severe blow to his male ego. He rose from his chair with lightning speed, cornering Alia in an instant, his deep voice carrying a sharp, menacing threat: "Do you forget who you are speaking to?" But Alia was not one to back down. There was no fear in her eyes, only a challenge.
In one swift movement, Alia broke free and stepped toward Viktor. In response to his harsh, arrogant behavior, she lunged forward, her hands closing tightly around Viktor's throat. She whispered, "Viktor, if you think your rage will frighten me, you are mistaken. If I wanted to, I could put an end to your arrogance right here and now. My hands are stained with blood because of your own lessons; does the touch of these hands not please you anymore?"
The room vibrated with intense, suffocating tension. The lethal standoff between them made it clear they were no longer just lovers or husband and wife; they had become rivals two sides of the same dark coin.