That night, Moretti called me downstairs. I slid on a black tank top and jeans and took the trip down the stairs.

"Where the fuck is he?" The kitchen was empty and so was the rest of the 1st floor.

A small sound caught my attention. I turned towards the sound and spotted a door. After creaking open the door, the sound grew louder and much more distinct. It was a deep voice.

I rested my hand on the knife in my pocket as I ventured down the steps behind the door. I had expected the basement to be grimy and dusty, but instead it looked more modern than the rest of the house.

In one corner of the large area, there were a few punching bags and dummies. The walls were lined with cases upon cases of weapons. Knives and guns of all sorts.

I think I'm having a wet dream.

Six large men stood over one table in the middle of the room, grumbling amongst one another. They didn't seem to notice my presence yet.

"I'm telling you, the bitch has got to fucking go." The shortest one said, his voice raising above the others'.

"Hey boys." I said from behind them.

All of them jumped, except for Moretti. He just glared, as usual.

"Took you long enough to get down here." He turned back around towards the table, studying the papers.

"What've we got here?" Their bodies were blocking my view.

Moretti shoved the short one away from the table, giving me a space to slide into.

"These are the layouts of Giovanni's club. The men and I have decided that-"

I interrupted Moretti. "Excuse you, what? 'The men have decided' what exactly?" I looked down at their genius ideas and couldn't hold back a chuckle.

"Are you trying to get us all killed? Dear God if we followed this we'd have better luck showing up with no fucking guns at all. Who is the dumbass that came up with this?"

The group of men, except for Moretti, all pointed to the short man.

"You?" I asked, stepping towards him, my hand reaching for my knife that I tucked into my belt.

The man nodded, his greasy hair moving with his head. Something was off about him.

I stalked closer towards him, finally unsheathing my knife, causing a gasp or two from the group.

"Psycho, don't," Moretti warned. But I didn't listen. I kept my stare straight on shorty over here.

As soon as his back hit the table behind him, I shoved him into it even more, pressing my body against his.

I held the glimmering knife up to his neck and smiled my sweetest smile. "Have any last words...spy?"

Moretti yelled after me but, once again, he was ignored.

I could practically smell the man's fear, or perhaps that was just his B.O. who knows.

Slowly, I creeped the knife closer and closer to the delicate skin of his throat...right before cutting the sleeve off of his shirt, revealing a "G" tattooed on his underarm, along with a distinct crest.

"Would you look at that? One of your men working for Giovanni. Do you not know what a goddamn background check is, babe?"

Moretti rubbed harshly between his brows and muttered a few choice words. Well, more than a few.

"Get this scum out of my sight." He ordered to the men. They stood up and grabbed the short man and dragged him away, kicking and screaming.

"Seeing as your plan was created by a known traitor, I don't think we should go along with it." I teased.

"No fucking shit." Moretti growled, obviously still enraged from learning of the betrayal.

I pouted, "Touchy, Touchy. Calm down, cinnamon roll. I've got it covered."

I threw the old plan into the fireplace behind us and began working out what to do.

I looked up to Moretti as he glared down at me. Finally, I gave in with a smile.

"It's time for a new plan, bitch."