Chapter 132: Diana Takes the Move

Chapter 132: Diana Takes the Move


Diana’s POV

When Jezebel’s message arrives, confirming what we've been anxiously anticipating—Alessandra is alone. My heart beats faster, not out of fear but from the anticipation of what's to come. It’s time to set our plan in motion.

With a cold, calculated calm, I gather Viper, Red, Jinx, and Blade. 

“She's alone,” I say, my voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through me. “Jezebel’s done her part. Now it’s our turn.”

They nod in unison, a silent agreement passing between us. There’s no need for words; we all know what needs to be done. The stakes are high, and failure is not an option.

We regroup at my rundown, hidden in the shadows of the city. 

Viper, the most experienced among us, checks his blade, its edge gleaming under the dim light. “Remember,” he says, his voice low but firm, “guns are for boys in the game. Blades are for men.”

His words echo in my mind as I glance around at the others. Red is sharpening his weapon, his eyes filled with a cold, ruthless determination. Jinx and Blade are focused, preparing for what’s to come. 

According to Jezebel, Alessandra is on her way to a law firm, probably to clean up her husband’s mess. How predictable, I think, a sneer forming on my lips. These wealthy types always believe they can buy their way out of trouble, but today, Alessandra will learn that some debts can't be paid with money.

“Scoff.”

How many law firms are in this city? I wonder, my mind racing. And how many do the wealthy frequent to cover their sins? It doesn’t matter. We know exactly where she’s heading. The rich may have their sanctuaries, but we know every corner of this city, every dark alley, every place where people like us thrive.

Our taxi pulls up at Maridona, and we step out, blending into the bustling crowd. The city is alive with noise, the air thick with the scent of exhaust fumes and the chatter of a thousand conversations. It’s a stark contrast to the silence that will soon fall over Alessandra’s world.

Viper’s eyes scan the surroundings, ever the strategist. “We need to wait for her and follow her to a place with no witnesses,” he says, his voice barely audible over the city’s din. “Then we strike.”

I nod in agreement. This area is too exposed; too many eyes are watching. If we make our move here, we might succeed, but getting away would be nearly impossible. Viper’s right; patience is key.

Time seems to stretch as we wait, each minute feeling like an eternity. My heart pounds in my chest, not out of fear but from the anticipation of what’s to come. I’ve waited so long for this moment, for the chance to make Alessandra pay for what she’s done. And now, it’s within my grasp.

Then, as if summoned by the very thought of her demise, Alessandra emerges from the law firm. My breath catches as I spot her, every detail of her appearance seared into my mind. She’s the picture of elegance, her spectacles perched perfectly on her nose, her suit impeccably tailored, her skirt hugging her figure just right, and that damn fancy handbag dangling from her arm.

She has no idea what’s coming.

If someone could foresee the day they would die, would they still dress so impeccably, so carelessly? Would they still walk with that same air of superiority, that unshakable confidence? Alessandra does, unaware that death is stalking her every step.

She heads toward the entourage of cars parked outside, the crowd around her parting like the Red Sea. I can’t help but marvel at the irony—how many of them would still admire her if they knew what she’s about to face?

A group of fans rushes toward her, only to be held back by her security. Their cries of support ring hollow in my ears. “Matriarch Alessandra, we stand by you! We know you didn’t know what your husband was up to!”

I almost laugh at the absurdity. These people, so quick to worship the ground she walks on, are so quick to turn a blind eye to the corruption that oozes from every pore of her existence. But then, from another corner, angry shouts rise above the rest, cutting through the adulation like a knife.

“You filthy rich scum! We’ll make sure your husband rots in jail!”

A smirk tugs at the corner of my lips. The crowd’s anger is obvious. The number of people condemning Alessandra far outweighs those supporting her, and it only makes our job easier. Public opinion is a powerful weapon, one that’s already doing half our work for us.

We watch as Alessandra finally gets into her car, her security detail bustling around her like ants. The car begins to pull away, slowly navigating through the throng of people hurling insults and objects at the vehicle. We waste no time in flagging down a taxi and instructing the driver to follow her at a safe distance.

For ten minutes, we tail her through the city streets, our eyes never leaving the sleek black car ahead. Then, suddenly, it pulls to a stop under an overpass, far from the prying eyes of the public. My pulse quickens. This is it. This is where it ends.

But Alessandra doesn’t step out. The car remains still, the windows tinted black, hiding her from view. I can almost picture her inside, her perfect façade finally cracking under the weight of her own despair. Good, I think. Let her feel that pain. Let it consume her.

But that’s not what we’re here for. Her suffering is a side dish, a small satisfaction on the way to our main course—revenge.

“Let’s move,” I whisper, my voice tinged with a cold determination.

We step out of the taxi, paying the driver off with a curt nod. Viper, Red, Jinx, and Blade take the lead, their movements smooth and practiced. They’re experts at this, blending into the background, becoming just another group of pedestrians in the city.

As they approach the car, pretending to be ordinary passersby, Viper knocks on the window. There’s a moment of tense silence before the security inside rolls it down slightly, probably to tell us to back off.

That’s when Viper strikes. He pulls out a small spray can from his pocket and releases its contents directly into the car. The reaction is immediate—a high-pitched scream pierces the air, a sound of pure terror that sends a thrill of satisfaction down my spine.

Scoff.

Of course, that’s Alessandra screaming, her voice filled with a fear she’s never known—a fear that she never imagined she’d experience. And as her screams echo in my ears, I know that our plan is unfolding perfectly.