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The scene around us is straight out of hell: Rafaele and Fiero's men are locked in a vicious battle, their faces contorted with rage and desperation. Gunfire rips through the air, bullets tearing into flesh and spraying blood across the opulent décor. Knives flash in the dim light, gleaming like deadly silver tongues as they slice through the air, seeking their next victim.
"Get down!" my father yells, pulling me behind a crumbling pillar just as a hail of bullets peppers the wall where we'd been standing moments before. My heart hammers in my chest, fear threatening to choke me. But amidst the madness, there's also a strange clarity, a fierce determination to protect my father at all costs.
"Father, tell me what's going on!" I demand, my voice trembling with a mix of fear and anger. "Why are Rafaele and Fiero's men trying to kill each other? And why are we caught in the middle?"
"Romola, there's no time to explain," he pants, his face pale and slick with sweat. "We need to get out of here, now. You foolish girl, you should have run. You’re on their radar too now, having caught up with me!"
"Then let's go!" I cry. Together, we push forward, dodging between the frenzied combatants and the panicked guests as we make our way toward the exit.
"Stay close to me," my father warns, his voice tight with fear. I can see in his eyes that he's just as terrified as I am, but there's also a steely determination within him, a fierce love for me that won’t let him cower in fear.
"Almost there, Romola," my father gasps, his breath coming in ragged pants as we near the exit. "Just a little further."
"Keep running, Father!" I shout, my voice cracking with fatigue.
The sound of shattering glass echoes through the night as we stumble into the dimly lit parking lot, our breaths coming in ragged gasps. I glance around frantically, scanning for any sign of pursuers, my mind racing with fear and determination.
"We need to find cover!" I whisper urgently, pulling him towards a row of parked cars. My heart hammers in my chest as we duck behind a sleek black sedan, trying to catch our breath and stay one step ahead of those who would see us dead.
"Romola, we can't just hide here," he says, his voice strained with desperation. "We need to get far away from this place before they find us."
I nod, knowing that he's right, but unsure of how to make our escape. Suddenly, an idea takes shape in my mind, born out of sheer necessity. "Help me hotwire this car, Father. We need to leave now."
He looks around himself, for a better way out.
"Trust me," I say, gripping his hand tightly. "We'll make it out of this alive."
With trembling fingers, we pry open the car door and slide into the front seats. As my father fumbles with the ignition wires, I keep watch, my eyes darting back and forth across the shadowy parking lot. The panicked guests from the masquerade are running for their lives, providing us with an unintentional cover as we work.
"Got it!" my father exclaims, as the engine roars to life. The screeching of tires fills the air and the smell of burning rubber assaults our senses as we speed away from the chaos, the headlights cutting through the darkness like a beacon of hope.
"Romola, hold on!" my father shouts, gripping the wheel tightly as we weave in and out of traffic, our destination uncertain but our determination unwavering. My heart races with every near miss, each swerve and turn, bringing us further from danger and yet closer to an uncertain future.
As the city lights blur past us, I can't help but wonder what lies ahead for us now.
The adrenaline begins to subside, leaving behind a shaky uncertainty. I glance at my father as he focuses on the road ahead, his knuckles white from gripping the wheel so tightly. I can't take it anymore; I need answers.
"Father, what the hell just happened? Why were those men after you?" My voice trembles, a mix of anger and panic bubbling up inside me. "Why couldn’t we have gone to Rafaele to get us out?”
He exhales heavily before responding, his eyes flicking to me for a brief moment before returning to the road. "Romola, there are things I haven't been completely honest about."
"Start being honest now, then!" I snap, my fear morphing into anger. "I deserve to know what's going on!"
"Alright," he concedes, swallowing hard. "I had a plan to steal the diamond from Fiero."
"Wait… had?" I stare at him in disbelief. "You didn’t succeed?”
"Listen, I hacked into the eye detection software Fiero uses to secure his vaults," he explains, his voice filled with worry. "I thought I could find the diamond where Rafaele said. But, it wasn’t to be found. Fiero’s men must have been bluffin’ when he said he knew where it was. All I found were vaults filled with weapons, cash, and gold, but I couldn't locate it. There were more safes, but I couldn’t get to open them in time."
“Why not?” I ask.
“Because the war broke out, Fiero’s men were searching everywhere, up and down the halls. I decided to leave before someone checked the safes, and I did. But I saw a few men in the hallways and hid. However, I heard them discussing that they saw something where I stood, and I knew if I didn’t run, I’d be caught with no way out. And so, I came out of hiding and ran to save my skin.”
“Jeez,” I exclaim. “I’m so glad you’re safe, papa. Alive…” I say the word with reverence.
He looks over at me, and extends one hand, taking mine in his. “Me too, sweetheart. Me too.”
“But,” I frown. "I still don’t understand. Rafaele’s men know us. If we had just gone to them for help, they would have gotten us out.”
