HIS MAFIA BRIDE

I was not supposed to be awake. Uncle Ron had told me three times already, “Lia baby, close your eyes. Be good for mummy.” But I couldn’t. I sat on the carpet with my doll in my lap, frowning at her braids. They were messy and didn’t look like mine, so I kept tugging at the ribbons, trying to make them neat. That night, the house was full of people moving around, voices and footsteps everywhere. Voices carried from the big room down the hall. Deep voices, angry voices. I heard glasses clink and a door bang shut. My chest felt funny, like it was buzzing to know what was going on. The big room. I had never been inside. Mummy always said, “Not for little feet, piccolina.” Little feet were mine. But I imagined chandeliers with stars in them, music floating like birds, tables with cakes stacked high. That night, the doors weren’t closed tight. They were open, just a little. I hugged my doll and crawled closer. Inside, the room was not how I dreamed. It was not golden. It was sharp. Men in dark suits crowded the long table. Their faces were carved like stone. My father stood at the end, tall and serious. My mother was beside him, her red dress hugging her like fire. She looked like a queen. But her eyes—they looked worried. I hugged the wall tight, my heart going boom-boom. Mummy’s hands stayed still on the table. Daddy’s voice was calm but strong. “We can end this,” he said. “Enough blood.” One of the men laughed. It was a laugh I didn’t like. Cold. Like knives. I was ready to crawl back when Uncle Ron’s eyes caught me. They popped wide, and then he swooped me up fast. “Lia,” he whispered, “not here. You can’t be here.” “But I want to see,” I whispered back, squirming. He carried me to the corner, trying to hide me. I couldn’t hold tight, and my doll went plop on the floor. I reached for it, but before I could cry— Crash! The window exploded. Glass rained down like angry stars. Men burst through, shouting, firing. The room shook with bangs louder than thunder. I screamed. Uncle Ron dropped low, shielding me with his body. “Down!” he barked, but his voice shook. Mummy gasped. A man with dark hair slashed at her. She screamed, clutching her arm as blood sprayed bright. “Mummy!” I shrieked. My legs kicked, but Uncle Ron’s grip was iron. Daddy spun, eyes wild. He took off his shirt really fast and wrapped it on her hurt hand. His hands wobbled, but he didn’t stop. His mouth looked all tight, like he was angry or scared. Another man charged him. Daddy didn’t hesitate. His gun rose. Bang! Bang! Bang! The lady in the red dress dropped. Her mouth opened but no sound came out. Her eyes stared at nothing. I whimpered, burying my face in Uncle Ron’s chest, but I peeked through my fingers. Smoke burned my nose. The chandelier swung above like it was afraid too. Daddy lifted Mummy in his arms. Her head fell against him, her hair wet with blood. He shouted, his voice breaking: “Ronelio! Keep her safe!” I looked at uncle Ron with my teary eyes and knew he was talking about me. Then—Boom! An explosion. The wall tore open. My ears screamed. Dust and smoke swallowed the air. The floor shook, throwing my doll across the room. Uncle Ron staggered. He clutched me tight and ran. My tiny fists pounded his chest. “Daddy! Daddy fell! We have to help him!” My throat hurt from crying. But he didn’t stop. His breathing was big and scary in my ear. He hugged me too hard and it hurt. I wriggled my neck, wanting to look. The room blurred through smoke. And then I saw him. A boy. He stood where the fire was the brightest. His hair was dark, all messy and sticking on his head. His eyes were so blue and they just kept looking at me. In his hands was a gun too big for a boy. He didn’t cry. He didn’t look scared. I couldn’t move. My little body froze. Even as Uncle Ron turned, even as bullets cracked the walls, I stared at the boy. His eyes locked on mine until the smoke covered his face. A shot rang out. Uncle Ron groaned. His leg bent funny. There was red all over his pants, dripping down. But he still didn’t let go. He limped fast, dragging me through the hall, past broken glass and fallen men. We reached a door. He pushed the door with his shoulder. The night air came in fast and cold, nipping at me like tiny teeth. Outside smelled funny, like wet grass after rain and the smoky stuff that makes my nose wrinkle. The sky was black, no stars. Shadows moved—men shouting, more guns firing. Uncle Ron staggered but kept going. I looked back. The big house roared with fire. The fire was climbing up the windows like a big monster, making the whole night look red and scary. It was the last time I saw it. The house I thought was safe. I mean daddy told me every night it was safe. The house I would never see again.