AN ATTACK

                    ~ELENA~

“Get the babies now!”

Something in my tone snaps them into motion. Valentina reaches for one baby. Gianna scoops up another. I clutch the third to my chest, heart racing.

Vincenzo appears instantly. “What is it?”

“I don’t know,” I whisper. “But something’s wrong.”

He studies my face for a long moment, then nods sharply.

“Lockdown,” he orders into his phone.

The house seals quietly—no alarms, no chaos. Just subtle shifts. Doors lock. Guards reposition.

Five minutes later, a voice crackles over comms.

“Movement detected near the west perimeter. Long-range surveillance.”

I sag slightly, my instincts screaming I knew it.

They weren’t inside.

They were watching.

Testing. Waiting.

That night, I sit in the nursery long after everyone else sleeps, rocking my daughters one by one. The moonlight paints silver lines across the walls.

I press my lips to a tiny forehead and whisper the truth I can no longer deny.

“They’re coming.”

*****

The attack doesn’t come loudly.

It comes quietly, ordinary, unthinkable.

That’s what makes it terrifying.

I was feeding one of the babies in my room when I hear him.

“Stay where you are, Elena,” Vincenzo instructs me through the comm.

My heart slams into my ribs.

“What’s happening?” I demand, already rising to my feet. “Is it that bad?”

Before he can answer, Nico bursts into the room, gun drawn, face hard.

“Sit down,” he says. “Now.”

The baby fusses at the sudden movement. I clutch her closer, heart slamming against my ribs.

“Talk to me,” I say. “Don’t you dare shut me out.”

“Someone breached the outer cameras,” he says tightly. “They didn’t trip alarms. No system breach.”

That’s when I know.

This isn’t random. This is deliberate. Maybe by the Mafia council.

“That’s why it’s a problem,” Riccardo says from the doorway, pale but steady. “They were professionals. They were good. Too good.”

Shots ring out somewhere outside—muted, silenced. The sound still pierces straight through me.

I clutch my daughter to my chest, instinct screaming. “They’re here for the babies.”

Nico doesn’t deny it.

The baby in my arms cries sharply, startled by my racing heartbeat.

Vincenzo’s voice comes again, calm and lethal. “Targets identified”

Identified.

Not caught. Not scared away.

Another sound. Another.

Silenced.

The minutes stretch endlessly. I can’t breathe properly. Every instinct in me screams to run, to hide, to fight, but there is nowhere safer than this room, surrounded by men who would burn the world for my children.

Finally, the words come.

“All clear.”

My legs give out beneath me.

 I sink onto the floor, breath shaking, the baby fussing softly against my skin.

Tears spill down my face…..not from fear for myself, but from the unbearable truth settling in my bones.

“They were willing to die,” I whisper. “Just to get close.”

“They knew,” I continue. “They knew where to look.”

Riccardo kneels in front of me, gripping my shoulders. “They didn’t get close.”

“But they tried,” I say. “And next time they won’t miss.”

The truth settles heavy and irreversible.

Someone was willing to die to reach my children.

That night, I don't sleep. I watch as guards double and patrol, weapons cleaned, systems rewritten, I feel something inside me harden.

The softness doesn’t leave.

But it stops being enough.

I kiss each of my daughters’ foreheads, breathing them in.

“I love you,” I whisper. “But love won’t protect you.”

I lift my head.

And for the first time, I stop thinking like a woman who was chosen.

I start thinking like a mother who will do anything. A mother who will destroy.

~~~

For a while after that night, everything goes… quiet.

Too quiet.

The house settles into a rhythm that almost feels normal. Guards rotate with clockwork precision. New faces replace old ones. 

Cameras blink softly, their red lights steady, reassuring. 

The halls stop echoing with rushed footsteps. The air stops tasting like gun oil and fear.

For a while… no one tries to kill us.

I still wake up at night, though. Always at the smallest sound. A creak. A breath. A baby’s whimper. My body reacts before my mind does…..heart racing, arms already reaching.

Motherhood has rewired me.

Danger has sharpened me.

Mornings become quieter rituals. Feeding. Changing. Humming softly while sunlight spills through the nursery windows. 

Gianna and Valentina come almost every day, pretending this is just friendship, not protection. Not watchfulness.

On a Tuesday morning, the doctor calls to confirm the babies’ follow-up appointment.

Routine checkup.

Such an innocent phrase.

Vincenzo, Nico, and Riccardo are already dressing when I bring it up. Dark suits. Weapons concealed. Faces set in that way that tells me they’re walking into something ugly.

“We have to handle something,” Riccardo says carefully. “Council-related.”

My stomach tightens. “Dangerous?”

Nico meets my eyes. “Enough.”

“I can postpone the hospital,” I offer immediately.

Vincenzo shakes his head. “No. The girls don’t pause their lives because men want power.”

He steps closer, cups my face, presses his forehead to mine. His voice drops. “You’ll go. With guards. You won’t deviate from the route.”

“I won’t,” I say again.

When they leave, the house feels wrong. Too quiet in a different way. Like the walls are holding their breath.

Gianna and Valentina arrive early. We dress the babies slowly, carefully. Three tiny outfits. Three blankets. Three carriers lined up like something sacred.

“They’re getting big,” Valentina whispers, brushing a finger along a chubby cheek.

“They’re strong,” Gianna adds, smiling….then glancing instinctively toward the windows.

The guards escort us out. Two SUVs. Tinted windows. Engines already running.

I hate how familiar it all feels. I remember how I was kidnapped on my way to Belliago, and I just hope nothing happens to us.

I let out a breath of relief when we finally get to the hospital in peace.

The hospital is bright and sterile, all soft voices and gentle smiles. Nurses gush over the girls. The doctor praises their weight, their lungs, their reflexes.

“Perfectly healthy,” he says.

For a few minutes, I let myself breathe.

I imagine a world where this is all there is. Appointments. Friends. Babies growing without knowing the sound of gunfire.

We leave just after noon.

The sun is high. Traffic light. Normal. Too normal.

And then…..The explosion comes without warning.

The car in front of us erupts in fire and metal, the shockwave slamming into our SUV.

 I scream as we’re thrown sideways, the babies crying instantly, their fear ripping straight through me.

“Down!” a guard yells.

Everything happens at once.

Gunshots follow……sharp, controlled, terrifyingly calm.

The door beside me is yanked open.

Hands grab at the carriers.

“No…..NO!” I scream, clutching one carrier while another is torn from Valentina. 

Gianna fights back, slapping, clawing, shrieking like she’s lost her mind.

Gianna’s scream is raw, animal-like. “They’re taking her!”

I see masked faces. Cold eyes. No hesitation.

Mafia men. Council men.

They don’t want me. They want my children.

I fight like something feral, nails scratching, screaming until my throat burns.

One man shoves me hard. I hit the floor of the vehicle, pain exploding through my shoulder, but I don’t let go of the baby in my arms.

Another attacker lifts one of my daughters like she’s nothing.

My scream turns animal. I watch helplessly as my two daughters are taken away by those men.

The world narrows to sound and pain and terror.

No! This can't be happening! My daughters can't just be taken away from me like this.

“Help!” I cry out in tears. “Somebody please help!”