One Hundred & Nineteen

One Hundred & Nineteen
The metal door slammed shut behind the guard, and the sound echoed through the cold, gray hallway.

Sofia De Luca sat on her narrow prison bed, shoulders hunched. Her nails were chipped and dirty. The soft silk blouses she once wore had been replaced with a rough gray uniform that hung loose on her thin frame. Her face looked tired and pale, with dark circles under her eyes.

She stared up at the small TV bolted to the wall. The screen flickered weakly, showing the morning news.

“Breaking news,” the reporter said. “The bodies of Victor Langston and Luciano De Luca have been found. Both men were shot dead late last night. Authorities believe it was a mafia hit.”

The plastic spoon in Sofia’s hand slipped and hit the floor with a quiet clink. She froze.

For a moment, she didn’t breathe. The air in the cell felt heavy. Her chest tightened, and her throat burned.

Then her lips began to shake. “Luciano…” she whispered softly, the name breaking apart as she said it. “You bastard.. How did you get yourself killed?”

Tears welled in her eyes. One rolled down her cheek, then another. Soon she was crying quietly, trying to hold back the sobs that wanted to escape.

The newscaster’s voice carried on: “Dante Virello and the Ravanelli family have taken full control of the De Luca territories and Langston's group. The De Luca name is now officially erased from the Italian underworld.”

The words stabbed through her. Her sobs stopped. Then, suddenly, she laughed... a short, broken sound that came out of nowhere.

The other women in the block looked up, startled. Some frowned, others just watched, used to people breaking down inside these walls.

Sofia kept laughing…. until it turned sharp and bitter. Then she pressed her palms against her face and dragged them down slowly, smearing her tears and makeup into dark streaks. Her eyes glinted with something new... not grief anymore, but fury.

“You think you’ve won, Dante?” she whispered to the TV. Her voice shook, but it carried a cold promise. “You took everything...  my brother, my power, my name.”

She stood up and walked to the bars, gripping them so hard her knuckles turned white. “I’m still alive,” she hissed. “And I swear...  as long as I’m breathing, you’ll pay. You and your precious Elena. You’ll both regret crossing me.”

A guard walking past stopped and frowned. “De Luca! Quiet down!” he snapped.

Sofia turned to him slowly, eyes wet but burning. Then she smiled.… a small, dangerous smile.
“Oh, don’t worry,” she said sweetly. “Im going to make you feel very pain you've caused me.”

The guard muttered under his breath and moved on. The other inmates looked away, whispering to each other. But Sofia stayed by the bars, staring through them at the thin slice of morning light coming from the small window.

Her hands were still trembling, but her mind was sharp….already planning.

“You didn’t kill me, Dante,” she whispered again, her voice low and calm now. “That was your mistake.”

She backed away from the bars and sat down on her cot again. Her tears had dried. Her breathing slowed. She stared at the wall, eyes cold and focused.

Her thoughts ran wild.… names, faces, favors owed, secrets buried. She knew people on the outside. People who still owed her loyalty. People who hated Dante as much as she did.

All she needed was time.

“The next time you see me,” she murmured, staring at the ceiling, “You're going to regret it.”

Rain lashed against the narrow, barred window of Sofia De Luca’s cell. The room was dim, filled with the musty scent of concrete and disinfectant. Sofia sat at the small metal desk, pretending to write in the journal the prison psychologist had given her. But the pages weren’t full of her “reflections.” They were full of coded messages.…  names, numbers, dates.

She had spent weeks watching, learning. The guards changed shifts at 2 a.m. sharp. One of them.… Officer Renzo  had been a De Luca sympathizer once, part of her brother’s old network. Money talked, and so did fear.

That night, she slipped him a note wrapped in a folded cigarette paper when he handed her meal tray. Their eyes met for a second. No words... just understanding.

“Two nights,” the note read. “Be ready. No blood this time. Quiet.”

A low whistle echoed through the corridor.

Renzo appeared by the cell door, his keys clinking softly. Sofia stood, calm, collected...her dark hair tied neatly, her gray uniform replaced by a guard’s spare jacket she’d smuggled through a laundry cart.

“You sure about this?” Renzo muttered.
“I’ve never been more sure,” she said quietly. “You’ll get your money. Just get me to the truck.”

The lock turned. The cell door opened.

They moved through the corridor like ghosts. Cameras looped on silent feeds; the alarms were delayed.

By the time the 2 a.m. shift changed, the bed in Cell 24 was neatly made.…  and Sofia De Luca was gone.

“Here I come. Danny boy.”