Ice And Fire: The Mafia Twins Captive

I screamed as the man I called "Dad" collapsed, his blood soaking my dress. The monster who killed him grabbed my hair and hissed, "Time to pay your real family’s debt." *** The church service ended, and I hurried up the driveway, adjusting the strap of my blue bag. Standing by the roadside, I anxiously waited for a cab. Time was against me; I couldn’t afford to be late for Dad’s birthday party. Dad's birthday cake weighed heavy in my other hand — vanilla frosting, his favorite. Twenty minutes later, I arrived home, but I saw two white vehicles parked haphazardly near our porch. Not Dad's beat-up Toyota. Not Uncle Mark's dented sedan. These were the kind of cars I'd only seen in Lagos' wealthy districts, their tinted windows swallowing the afternoon light. My stomach churned; something felt wrong. "Maybe it's the new investors..." I whispered to myself, but the tremor in my hands betrayed me. Then I saw blood. The blood on our doorstep was still warm. Then a whimper. Not the playful cries of my brothers, but the sound of my mum screaming in terror. I nearly dropped the birthday cake as I sprinted through the kitchen, my flats slipping on the tiles. "Papa?" My voice cracked like thin ice. Silence. I opened the door to the living room to reveal a nightmare. Our living room, where just this morning I'd hung blue streamers and blown up balloons, now looked like a warzone. The coffee table was splintered in two. Mama's favorite vase shattered against the wall. And there, in the center of it all... An old man lounged in Papa's armchair, his white suit pristine against our faded upholstery. The cigar between his fingers sent lazy smoke rings toward the ceiling. His gold rings glinted as he took a slow drag from his cigar, the smoke curling around his face like ghosts. Six armed men flanked him, their guns aimed at my family. Mama knelt at his feet, her left eye swollen shut. Behind her, my little brothers Luca and Marco clutched each other, their tiny bodies shaking. And Papa... My breath left me in a rush. Papa lay crumpled like a broken marionette, his work shirt soaked red. One arm bent at a sickening angle, his face a mess of bruises and blood. But his eyes, those warm, laughing eyes I'd known all my life, found mine. "R-run..." Blood bubbled at his lips. The cake fell from my hand. What in the world is happening?! "Where," the old man said softly, "is my money?" Papa's voice cracked. "Don Cartel, please..." The man, Don Cartel, moved faster than I thought possible for someone his age. The back of his hand sent Papa sprawling. Mama screamed, lurching forward, but one of the armed men flanking the sofa shoved her back down. Don Cartel smirked, his eyes cold. He pulled a pistol from his jacket and aimed it directly at Mama. “Mama!” I screamed, standing in front of my mum to shield her. “Don’t you dare hurt my mother!” The room fell into silence, then Don Cartel laughed, a cruel, mocking sound. His men joined in until he raised a hand, silencing them. Don Cartel's gaze crawled up my body from my sensible church heels to the damp tendrils of hair at my neck. “Who’s this?” he asked, his eyes narrowing. "Papa made a broken noise. "My daughter. She's—she has nothing to do with this!" “How old is she?” No one responded. “I said… how old is she? Speak to me.” He kicked Papa hard in his stomach. “She’s… twenty-two,” Papa groaned, clutching his stomach. Don Cartel's smile didn't reach his eyes. He took three measured steps toward me, his leather boot silent on the tiles. Up close, I saw the scar cutting through his left eyebrow, the yellowed teeth beneath his poorly-kept mustache. "Mm interesting," he said. Don Cartel hummed, his thumb brushing my lower lip. "Old enough," he turned to Papa. "You borrowed money for heart surgery, yes? This one's surgery?" Dad's breathing was ragged. "Yes, but—" "Such a waste." He rose gracefully, adjusting his cufflinks. "Do you know how long I've been looking for you, little bird?" His fingers, still damp with Papa's blood, traced my cheek. I flinched, but his grip tightened, forcing me to meet his cold, shark-like eyes. "Eighteen years," he whispered. "Ever since your real father tried to cheat me." My breath hitched. "W-what?" "What do you mean by my real father?" I asked. Behind me, Mama made a wounded noise. "Lewis, please..." Don Cartel's smile turned razor-sharp. "Oh, she doesn't know?" He clicked his tongue. "Tell me, did you ever show her the adoption papers? Or were you too busy playing house?" The floor tilted beneath me. Adoption? Papa—no, Lewis groaned as he struggled to rise. "She...she was just a baby..." Another kick in his ribs silenced him. "Time to pay your father's debt, principessa." Don Cartel's hand slid down to my throat, his thumb pressing against my racing pulse. "With interest." "Mama–no, the woman I called Mama, let out a sob, her fingers digging into Luca's tiny shoulders. "We were going to tell her, but just couldn't. We planned to tell her when she turned twenty-five..." Don Cartel backhanded mama so hard her head snapped back. "Liar." He turned to me with a grin that showed yellowed teeth. "Your real father owed me more than money, little bird. He owed me flesh." "No!" I yelled. "I don't believe this, Mama, Papa tell me this is a lie, please," I said with tears. Mama's eyes were oceans of grief. "You're not ours, Rain. Your parents died in a car accident when you were four. We took you in after... after the hospital." I remember Mum braiding my hair before school. Dad taught me to ride a bike. Luca's birth, Marco's first steps... No! I took a step back. This can't be true. So my whole life was a lie... All lies. "How poetic! " Don Cartel's laughter pulled me back. "Who knew you would hide here in Africa?” Don Carter yelled and punched the wall in anger. “Knee.” He glared at me. I knelt beside Papa. “All these years, I have been searching for you. "Did you think you would hide from me forever?” He shot the ceiling. My mum clutched the little ones by herself. “Tell them to shut up, or I will shoot" Tears streamed down Marco's freckles. The dark urine stain spread across Luca's shorts. "Take her!" He ordered, pointing at me. “What?” Papa's voice trembled. “No, please! Take anything, just not her!” But Don Cartel wasn’t listening. “No! Mama! "Papa!” I struggled as two burly men seized me. "No, you can't take her.” Papa stood up and attacked those men. He launched at them, his desperation turning him into a man possessed. He fought with everything he had, punching, kicking, refusing to let go of me. Then, the sound that silenced the world. BANG. The gunshot echoed through the house. I watched, numb, as the bullet tore through his throat. Watched the light leave his eyes. Watched his blood pool around the birthday banner I'd hung that morning: HAPPY BIRTHDAY PAPA! Papa collapsed at my feet. Blood pooled beneath him as his lifeless eyes stared blankly. “Papa!” I screamed, dropping to my knees. “Mama! Help him! "He’s not breathing!” I shook his body, willing him to wake up. “No, please wake up. "Daddy!” I screamed. Tears streamed down my face as reality crashed down. My dad was gone. I sprung toward Don Cartel in blind rage, grabbing his collar. “You killed him! "You killed my father!” I scratched his face, drawing blood. “Useless b***h,” Don Cartel hit me. The slap came hard and fast, knocking me to the floor. Stars danced in my vision as Don Cartel loomed over me. “Now… where were we?” He turned to my mother, c*****g his gun. “Over to you. Your choice. I take her, or you join your husband in paradise.” Mum’s lips trembled. “Please don't d-do this,” she stammered. Through the haze, I saw Mama crawl toward me. "Rain, I..." Don Cartel grabbed her hair. "Changed your mind, mamacita?" He pressed his gun to Marco's temple. "Last chance." Her...or them?" Mama's eyes met mine just for a second before she whispered: "Take her." The world stopped. All those bedtime stories. Every "I love you." The way she'd held me through my heart surgery scars. "Mum?" “Please take her. My husband died because of her. "I won't let anything happen to me or my children,” Mum said, hugging her, Marco and Luca tightly. I stumbled back, her words cutting deeper than any knife. The man I called Papa — gone. The woman I called Mama is now a stranger. My entire life had been a lie. Before I could process it, Don Cartel’s men dragged me toward the door. I screamed, kicking and clawing, but it was futile. “Mum! Don’t let them take me! Please!” But she didn’t move. She clutched my siblings tighter, tears rolling down her cheeks as she whispered, “I’m sorry, Rain.” "Smart choice." Don Cartel grinned. His men tied my hands behind my back and dragged me toward the door. My heart pounded in my ears as I struggled. Just before stepping out, Don Cartel turned back and threw a bundle of cash at my mother's feet. I blinked in confusion, my gaze shifting between him and her. I understood why she handed me over to save herself and her children, but what I couldn’t grasp was Don Cartel paying her in return. What reason!! "That's for disclosing the whereabouts of your husband to us," he said. "What about his body?" my mother asked, her voice barely a whisper as she glanced at my father’s lifeless form on the floor. "As for the body," he turned to his men. "Prep the merchandise." The front door burst open. Two men in surgical scrubs wheeled in a metal cart laden with... Clear plastic coolers. Bone saws. IV bags labeled Preservation Solution. "Your adopted father," Don Cartel said, kicking Papa in the ribs, "has a rare blood type. AB negative. "The Leonovskaya twins pay very well for compatible organs." "You bastard!" I cursed, struggling with the guys holding me, every muscle in my body begging to break free and tear him apart. "His heart, liver, kidneys..." Don Cartel traced a scalpel down Lewis's chest. Even his corneas. Though..." He glanced at me. "I hear the Bratva prefers whole packages." "Brat...what?" "You don't know about the Bratva?" Don Cartel asked with laughter. One of the surgeons pulled out a syringe. "Sedate him first?" Don Cartel laughed. "Why waste drugs? He won't feel much once the ice hits his veins." Something inside me broke. I screamed, twisting, so violently my left arm popped from its socket. The pain was white-hot, but I didn't care. I lunged for the scalpel, but Don cartel stopped me before I could do anything. "Eyes first," one muttered, prying Papa's lids open. "Godmother wants them fresh." I retched. Don Cartel crouched beside me as they dragged me out. "Cheer up, princesa." He shoved something into my pocket, the wristband I'd bought for Dad. "You're going to meet your real family." The last thing I saw before the black hood descended was Mama clutching Don Cartel's cash, her tears splashing onto the blood money. I screamed, my voice breaking with the weight of betrayal. Mum, why? Then, Don cartel was on a phone call. "Godmother? The package is secure. Though...you never told me she had your eyes." Darkness swallowed me whole.