Bred In Violence (A Mafia Romance Book One) #𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝟏

Chapter 71

It matters to me that you're safe.
~Abbi Glines~

Sophie

*Unedited*

I heard a loud blast of a gun and my heart stopped for what seemed like a life time. I froze, fearing that I was about to be killed. I couldn't run, my stomach was too huge I felt like I carried the weight of a house. But I needed to move, if there is anything I had learnt from living in this life, is that I needed to always be ready for any eventuality. 

Moving to Raphael's side of the bed, I opened the bottom drawer, knowing exactly what I would fine. A loaded gun. Thank you to Romano, I now knew how to shoot 

I may not have been a good shot as the guys, but I had practiced and Romano had made sure I would be able to protect myself should I ever been unfortunate enough to be in a position where I needed a gun and no one around to protect me.  I knew for a fact I could shoot. Not to kill, but to maim for I never wanted either the guilt  nor the responsibility of someone's death by my hands.

I heard some sort of scuffle at a distance arousing a need to protect my baby and the yearning to stay alive. I walked to the closet, sitting on a stool that  was forever present just in case I ever needed to climb up to look  on for a new pair of shoes to wear among the countless pairs on top of the closet

 I was afraid to make a call in case the killer heard me. My heart was beating at a fast rate, my senses alert, listening to the slightest noise or step. I heard none but I still held my breath. Discretely, while my hands shook and my stomach twisted in numerous knots, I pulled out my phone from the purple sweater that I was wearing and speed dialed Raphael's number. 

"Cara" I panicked, because he sounded like he was running out of breath. I had never for a minute thought that anything would happen to Raphael.  He seemed to indestructible, almost immortal in his confidence and the ability to always emerge a winner in any and all fights and confrontations. 

"Are you okay?" I asked in a whisper, tears running through my cheeks, my throat clogging like I had a cold. I couldn't swallow, I felt like throwing up and I would have if I had anything to throw up but ironically, my mouth was dry. 

"Cara" He called again. This time his voice held an urgency that bordered on fear. "I'm okay. Are you?" He yelled.

"No I'm not okay" I breathed, partly because I didn't want to shout  and partly because my throat still felt heavily blocked "I heard gun shots" I whispered again.

"Its okay cara. Its me"

"What?"

"What are you shooting?"

"I'll be with you in a moment"

 "Babe, you don't sound okay" I knew I shouldn't panic, but I was afraid the father of my unborn child was in danger.

"I'm fine"

And then he hanged up. 

I put the phone back to my pocket, simultaneously taking a deep breath of relief, my throat opening like it was an act of miracle.

I dropped the gun on the carpeted floor beside me and leaned on the wall. My hand going automatically to my stomach. The baby kicked, immediately wiping away the residual of fear, bringing with it a presence that seemed so real it was almost like the baby was comforting me.

I smiled, caressing my bump and talking to her in whispers that carried unexplainable love and unshed tears of joy. I had started thinking of her as a girl as well. It was impossible not to with the way Raphael's enthusiastically referred to her as his daughter.

We had a bond - me and her, a bond that I hoped would extend even after she was out of me.

I talked non-stop. Telling of her father and his love for her. The way he loved touching me while she kicked, how proud he was you would think he was the first man to ever father a baby.

You do know you're not the first man to make a baby, don't you?

I had asked, watching him as he cooed, kissing my belly and putting his ear on it trying feel a heartbeat"

Joke's on you because I'm the first to make you pregnant. Twice, but who is counting.

You...apparently.

He had laughed, boisterously while he lain on my thighs.

I'm happy cara

he had whispered after a while.

So am I

Then there was a peaceful silence, broken only by the sound of flipping pages as I went through the month's vogue magazine.

I can't get over how flat this models' tummies are.

I had murmured resentfully.

Why should you? You're the most beautiful woman in the world, pregnant or not.

You only say that because you think you need to say something nice to make me feel better. It's okay, I feel like hippopotamus

He had chuckled then.

See? You agree.

I shot at him, a little hurt that he would find it funny"

Cara, I can't lift a hippopotamus, but I can carry you down the stairs and back up again without breaking a sweat.

He knew exactly what to say to me. I had thought.

Suddenly, I heard the door open, automatically thrusting me to the present. My hand unconsciously going to my bump  until I caught a whiff of his cologne and his seamless footstep.

"Cara"

"In here" I said breathlessly

"In here where?"

"Inside the closet"

"What the hell are you doing inside the closet?"

"Hiding from gun shots" I said, gnawing my teeth.

"Oh, sorry about that" I heard him say under his breath. "What were you shooting at?" I asked while still sitting on the stool

"Are you going to stay in the closet the whole day?"

"It's not my ideal sitting place Raphael, but I'm waiting to see how long it will take you to figure out that I need a hand getting up"

He swore loudly, which meant my sarcasm irritated him. I watched him walk through our clothes, scooping me up and with an easy gait, one that demonstrated how effortless he could cope in any circumstances even while half his body bending over me, his breathing fanning the few strands of hair that fell careless around my neck brought me to my feet beside the bed. Without breaking a sweat or showing any discomfort at any of it.

"What were you shooting" I asked again.

"It's not what" he announced "It's who" My heart stopped for a second trying to imaging who Raphael would want to hurt in this house and came out with none.

I held his face between my hands, watching his dark eyes molten both in lust and something else I could not identify.

"Who?"

"I found out who had you kidnapped" the anger in his eyes would have started a wildfire"

"Who?"

Who do you think had Sophie kidnapped?