Only fear.
The smell of burnt gunpowder fills the air as the tattooed man staggers backward, a crimson stain blooming across his chest.
My heart slams wildly against my ribcage. I catch a glimpse of Zeke’s terrified face, his small body shaking as he’s startled awake, caught between confusion and terror.
His scream matches the intensity of the rain as it lashes against the windows, the storm raging as fiercely inside as out.
Nova is right beside me, her voice cuts through the tension, steady yet urgent. “Come here,” she says, grabbing Zeke, sheltering him from the brutality, covering his eyes as she ushers him away from the violence, away from me.
I stand rooted, my mind reeling, the weight of my actions pressing heavily on my shoulders as I watch the man collapse.
I had no choice.
Zeke is safe, but the guilt of not being able to protect him already claws at my conscience.
I kick the gun away from the man’s reach as he gasps hard for breath.
Lightning crackles across the sky, flashing through the windows.
Another boom of thunder rings overhead.
“Who sent you?” I position the gun at the assailant’s forehead, demanding answers.
He coughs and chokes, his fingers itching for the trigger, but the gun isn’t within his grasp. “No one. I run the damn mafia!”
“Not anymore.” I stare down at him and pull the trigger one last time, ensuring his demise.
“No one threatens my son.”
Twenty
Nova
I shield Zeke from the horror of what he just witnessed, but the screams and tears don’t stop. He woke up in the arms of a madman holding a gun, threatening his mother.
The kid will have nightmares for life, just like Luca. Just like me.
But Zeke didn’t lose his mother.
Thankfully, she wasn’t shot.
I wasn’t as lucky.
My mother was murdered in daylight, outside, on a crisp autumn morning.
When I close my eyes, I can still see it, smell the gunpowder, hear the gunshots.
I’d been playing outside in the yard, jumping in piles of colorful leaves when armed, masked men stormed through the gates.
Mom had been having coffee and breakfast outside on the veranda when they shot her from behind. She didn’t even see them coming.
My nanny hid me in the bushes, told me we were playing hide and seek and not to come out, no matter what. She protected me before she faced the masked men and was brutally murdered in cold blood.
After that, I was mute for years. I refused to speak to anyone, afraid what might happen if I got too close to someone.
I don’t want that fear for Zeke.
I carry him out of the hallway into the living room, trying desperately to comfort him, but he is inconsolable.
