MAFIA'S MOST WANTED BRIDE

The first gunshot didn’t sound real.

For a second I thought I imagined it until my father’s body was shot down in front of me, his hand still wrapped around mine, his grip was tight so hard it hurt.

“Run!”

****

“Dinner’s getting cold, Sienna!” 

my mother called from downstairs. 

I dragged my feet across my room. Outside the storm blew the windows hard. Wind howled through the night.

“I’m coming!” I replied, grabbing the banister as I came down the stairs. My mother stood by the table, settling the plates down.

“Finally,” she said. “I was about to come drag you down myself.”

“You wouldn’t,” I muttered, sliding into my seat.

“Oh, I would,” she replied, pointing a spoon at me warning me.

My father sat near the window in his wheelchair, looking outside with an anxious look on his face. It felt off. He was always the one telling us to hurry up, joking about how he’d eat everything if we took too long to come down.

“Dad?” I frowned. “Aren’t you eating?”

He seemed to snap out of what he was thinking of as he turned and smiled.

“Of course!”

Just then, three sharp knocks hit the door, my mother froze mid-step.

My father wheeled himself across the room slowly. He reached for the side window and pulled the curtain back peeping through.

“Who is it?” my mother asked quietly.

“Take Sienna upstairs,” he said.

“What?” I sat up straight. “Why?”

“Sienna dear,” my mother said, “go upstairs.”

My chest tightened. “What’s going on?”

“Listen to me,” he said. “Whatever happens, don’t come back down. Do you understand?”

“…Yes.”

“Good.” His grip softened. “You’re strong, Sienna, stronger than you think.”

The door handle shook vigorously and the door busted open. Armed men in black rushed into the house.

“Get down!” one of them barked.

“What do you want?” my mother asked. “Please, take anything, just leave us.”

The man did not say anything. He looked at my father instead.

“Give it to us,” he said.

“Over my dead body!” my father barked.

I moved down one step. My legs felt weak. My chest tightened. I wanted my father to stand up and tell me everything was fine.

“Go back upstairs,” my mother said. “Sienna, go.”

I shook my head. “No.”

Her voice broke. “Go!”

One of the men grabbed my father’s wheel chair and kicked it aside. My father fell to the floor. His hand hit the ground near my feet. 

He cocked the gun and shot my father. he was in his pool of blood.

I dropped to my knees beside him. I didn't care about the men nor the guns. He only mattered to me.

“Daddy, get up,” I said. “Please, get up.”

He lifted his hand. It shook as he reached for my face. His fingers touched my cheek.

“I don’t want to run,” I said. Tears blurred my sight. “I want to stay with you.”

My mother moved closer. She dropped beside us. Her hands pressed against his wound, trying to stop the blood.

“Stay with me,” she whispered to him. “Please, stay.”

My mother let out a sound I had never heard before. She pressed her forehead to his chest. Her body shook hard.

“Please,” she said, over and over. “Please.”

A hand grabbed my arm.

I flinched. I looked up. Another man stood over me. His grip was tight.

“Take the girl,” someone said.

My mother snapped. “No!”

She clawed at his arm. “Let her go! She’s a child!”

He shoved her back. She hit the table. Plates crashed to the floor.

“Mom!” I shouted.

She got up again. Blood smeared across her hands. She reached for me.

“No!” she cried. “let her go, she's just a child, please!”

The man’s grip tightened. Panic rose in my chest. I could not breathe.

I pulled against the hand holding me. “Let me go!” I shouted.

The man dragged me back. My heels scraped against the floor.

“Run,” she whispered again. “Don’t look back.”

The grip on my arm slipped for one second.

I tore free and ran toward the hallway. I heard shouting behind me. Heavy steps followed behind me.

“Get her!”

I ran faster, without looking back. I reached the back door and pushed it open.

I ran into the night.

Mud soaked my feet. My feet slipped. I kept moving. Branches scratched my arms. 

Voices echoed behind me.

“Spread out!”

“She’s not far!”

“I ducked behind a shed near the edge of the yard pressing my back against the hard wooden wall as I covered my mouth to stop my breath.

“Check there,” a man said.

Light swept across the yard. It moved closer to where I hid.

“Nothing here,” another voice said.

My legs shook. My hands shook. My whole body felt somehow.

A hand clamped over my mouth. I screamed into it, I struggled but the grip held me firm.

“Quiet,” a voice whispered near my ear.

I froze.

“Don’t make a sound, they'll find us,” he said. His voice low.

Slowly, he eased his hand away from my mouth. I turned.

A man stood behind me. Dressed in dark clothes, a mask covered his face. Only his eyes showed.

“Who are you?” I whispered.

“No questions,” he said. “Move.”

“I need my mom,” I said. My voice broke down again. “I need to go back.”

“No,” he said.

“I have to,” I insisted. “They took her.”

“I know,” he said.

“Then help her,” I said.

He shook his head once. “Too late.”

The words hit hard. I felt them in my chest.

“No,” I said. “No, she’s still in there.”

He stepped closer. “Listen, you can't go back there.”

“I don’t care,” I said.

He grabbed my arm.

“You will care,” he said. “Move now.”

“Stay low,” he said. We moved through the dark. He knew where to step. Where to turn. I followed him. We reached a fence at the back. He climbed fast. He dropped to the other side and held out his hand.

“Come,” he said.

I hesitated for a second but my mother's voice re-echoed in my head. I took his hand and he pulled me over. We landed on the other side. He stopped near an old building. He pushed the door open and pulled me inside.

I yanked my arm away.

“Who are you?”

He removed his m

ask.

“Your father trusted me,” he said. “He knew this would happen.”

My chest tightened. “My parents?”

He looked at me.

“They were not the target.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“You were.”