Helena Bertinelli had always been intense—extreme, even. Her personality showed all the signs of someone shaped by trauma, the kind that manifests in self-destructive tendencies. She was willing to give up everything—pride, comfort, even her body—if it meant achieving her goal.
It was no surprise she would later be known as the Huntress. After all, if someone doesn't care about their own well-being, how could they be expected to care about anyone else's?
Jack Kadere had learned this firsthand—and it brought no shortage of surprises.
Over the next few days, Helena constantly pushed boundaries. In the bedroom, the living room, even on the front lawn—she kept things unpredictable. One day, she kicked everyone out of the villa, letting Jack do as he pleased right out in the open. When Jack took her along to check out a few houses Felicity had shown interest in, Helena insisted on joining. She had the driver and the bodyguards wait by the roadside while the two of them handled their "business" in the back seat, before continuing on their way as if nothing had happened.
Honestly, Jack felt like he needed an IV drip of electrolytes just to survive. He figured if this kept up, Felicity would definitely start getting suspicious.
That said, Helena's over-the-top antics served a purpose. Word spread fast. Within just a few days, the Bertinelli family's enforcers had stopped referring to Helena as "the young miss" and instead called her "Jack Kadere's woman." Of course, while they said "girlfriend," everyone knew what they really meant.
Frank Bertinelli hadn't shown his face through any of this, but Jack knew the man kept close tabs on everything that happened under his roof. And while the hired muscle kept their mouths shut, Jack caught wind of some unrest. The whispers among the crew weren't all positive.
After all, reputation was everything in organized crime.
If word got out that Frank Bertinelli was letting some outsider humiliate his daughter, how would other crime lords view him? How could he lead if he couldn't even keep his own family in line?
Eventually, Frank decided it was time to have a talk with Jack.
That evening, Frank returned to the villa, quietly stepping inside.
"Is Helena home?" he asked one of the bodyguards.
"She's upstairs. That guy's with her—went up a few minutes ago."
Frank furrowed his brow, waved the guards away, and stood there in silence. He didn't go upstairs.
Upstairs, Helena glanced at the clock. When she realized her father hadn't followed them up, she sneered. "Well, he came home but didn't come up. That probably means he's about to ask you for help with something."
Jack nodded. "Then let's go down and see."
"Wait—let me change first." Helena stopped him and went to the wardrobe. Moments later, she emerged wearing high heels, sheer stockings, and a tight black dress. She looked like she was heading to a mafia gala.
"What do you think?" she asked.
"Stylish," Jack smirked.
Helena wasn't done. She held up a sleek leather collar—complete with a silver ring and a detachable leash.
"You serious?" Jack blinked, tugging the chain lightly. "We're really doing this?"
"Totally," Helena replied, placing the collar around her neck. "This thing isn't just for show. I had it custom-made—was gonna use it on my dad's dog to plant surveillance gear. That plan got scrapped when the poor mutt died last month. But now? It's perfect for me to wear. Won't raise suspicion... and I cannot wait to see their expressions when you walk me in on a leash."
Jack let out a low whistle. "You're terrifying. Ruthless, shameless, relentless. You really won't stop until you take down your target."
"I take that as a compliment."
Jack honestly meant it. He respected her drive. Helena wasn't just strong—she was strategic, committed, and utterly without mercy when it came to pursuing justice on her terms. Jack recognized that in her, because it mirrored the very same darkness in him.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Footsteps echoed on the stairs. Frank stood at the bottom, only to look up and freeze in place.
There was Jack Kadere, descending casually with Helena on his arm—or rather, with her leash in his hand.
She held her head high. Confident. Proud. Daring anyone to look away.
For a brief moment, Frank felt the urge to explode—but that faded quickly into sheer relief. Thank God he'd dismissed the staff before coming inside.
"Your daughter," Jack said with a slow grin, "is really something else."
Frank forced a dry smile, but inside, he was fuming. Where had Helena's sharp tongue gone? The same girl who used to challenge him at every turn was now docile and submissive around this man. Useless!
"Have you made up your mind?" Jack asked, his tone calm but purposeful.
Frank didn't miss the meaning. "Anthony Venza runs a major trafficking ring that's been clashing with our operations. He and the Bertinelli family have a fragile hold on Starling City's drug routes. I was planning to meet him tonight."
"Not tonight. Now," Jack said bluntly.
"Now? I haven't even—"
"Then get it done," Jack cut in, already turning away. Without waiting for a reply, he led Helena out of the house.
The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the lawn as Jack walked confidently, leash in hand, Helena trailing behind like it was nothing unusual.
The bodyguards stationed outside were frozen in place.
What the hell…?
"What are you all staring at? Get moving! Prep the cars. We're heading to Venza's turf!" Frank's voice thundered from inside.
With a jolt, the men scattered.