Blood on her Hands

Giovanni's Safehouse – Midnight

Belle sat across from Giovanni, her body still tense from her last encounter with Dante.

He was watching her. She had felt it in the way he spoke, in the way he touched her.

And now—Giovanni was watching her too.

"Dante is suspicious," she said, her voice cool.

Giovanni smirked, leaning back. "Of course he is. He's not a fool."

Belle clenched her jaw. "Then this game is over. I won't risk my position for you."

Giovanni chuckled, swirling his drink.

"You don't have a choice, princess."

Belle's nails dug into her palms.

"I gave you information. I held up my end. We're done."

Giovanni's smirk faded. He leaned forward, his voice lowering.

"You think you can walk away from this?"

Belle didn't flinch.

Giovanni studied her for a long moment—then sighed dramatically. "Fine. No more whispers."

Belle exhaled. "Good."

Then—Giovanni slid a gun across the table.

Belle's stomach dropped.

"Just one last thing," he murmured. "Prove to me that you're really Dante's woman. Kill someone for me."

Belle's blood ran cold.

"What?"

Giovanni smirked. "Dante trusts you, doesn't he? Prove it. Take out one of his men. Someone disposable. Just a small price for your freedom."

Belle's mind raced. If she refused, he would know she wasn't truly loyal to him. But if she accepted, she'd be walking deeper into the darkness.

No matter what she chose—there would be blood on her hands.