Men flood down the stairs.
The children around me disperse.
My heart beats against my chest. I run to the corner of the room, and stand there. Waiting. Looking. Watching.
They have come
To take me
B
A
C
K
I can't go there. I refuse.
I will do anything in my power to not go there again. I would rather die. But I know I won't be able to do that.
That's too easy. A coward's way out.
The intruders—the men from the Center, they have tattoos on their necks—shoot down many of the men still standing in shock.
No one expected this attack. Thus, we're horribly unprepared.
But I'm good at that. Vulnerable.
Being small by nature, the guards picked on me at the Center. I didn't know when they would. So I was always wielding a weapon.
I picked the wrong day to not stuff a knife into my clothes.
My eyes zoom in on a man running towards me. He smirks, almost triumphantly, though he hasn't even done anything yet.
And he won't be doing anything else ever.
He shoots.
I duck and move.
The man runs so fast he runs into the statue behind me.
He falls.
I pick his gun up from the floor and shoot him in the head. Blood drips from his head, filling me with a sick sense of relief.
With a small shrug to myself, I kick his heavy, lifeless body away from me and stand next to him, waiting for more men to come at me.
How did these men even get into the ballroom?
Isn't this the most well-protected event of the year?
There must be a mole.
But who? And from which mafia?
I scan the room. The children are fleeing through an open exit, women following after them. I see my brothers fighting and shooting.
The room is a mess of bodies and blood.
I'm used to it.
But I didn't think I'd have to see it again so soon.
Another man runs to me.
He doesn't get very far.
His dead body falls into a small slump by my feet.
Man after man runs to me.
They all fall, bloody.
This gun is coming in handy.
A soft smile graces my lips. I look down at the first man I killed tonight. "Thank you," I say, feeling obligated to show my appreciation for his gift.
When his gun runs out of bullets, I kneel down and pick up another dead man's gun.
Man after man.
Shot after shot.
They begin to blend into one.
My blonde hair has been dyed red. My pink dress has gone pinker. I look like I've just crawled up from Hell.
I probably have. That's where I came from. That's where messes like me are created, sent into the world to wreak havoc on innocents.
"You know, 102," Sir drawls out, a lazy smile lacing his lips. "You're such a good little killer. Don't you want to do this forever, with me?"
I shake my head. "No."
"Oh? Why not, little one?" He smirks at me.
I frown. "I want to go home."
Sir lets out an exasperated sigh. "Sweet child. You are still so innocent for someone who has taken the lives of a thousand men."
"What do you mean, Sir?"
I didn't kill men.
I killed demons.
They were going to hurt me. I saw it in their eyes. I had to shoot. They were going to kill me they were going to to to to
Sir snaps his fingers in front of my eyes. I look up at him. His smile warps into a frown. He tells me I am not good enough for a family.
He tells me I am going to die with him.
Sir tells me I am too good to not be used for him. He tells me I am going to like being here. He tells me I am
Perfectperfectperfect
"Isn't that nice, little one? Being mine?"
I shake my head. "No! I am not yours! I am going to go to a family one day, and they will love me. You don't love me!"
Sir frowns. He pats the top of my head. "Oh, I love you, 102. And do you want to know why I love you so very much?"
I don't answer.
"Because, child, you will be the ruler."
I blink a few times. Bodies litter the floor. Blood stains the walls. A frown weaves itself onto my lips as I stare at the circle of bodies around my own feet.
My vision clears fully. I drop the gun.
The fighting is over.
I walk past the bodies, out of into the open of the room.
Bloody men and women wearing elegant clothes that are now ruined stand around other bodies, talking rapidly.
They all turn to stare at me.
"The French girl..."
"Look at all those bodies!"
"Did she... She killed them all?"
I walk past them and go to my brothers, mother, and father. My mother gasps when she sees me, and pulls me into a hug.
"My Lila! My darling, darling child. I thought you had left with the other children! You could've been killed." Her grip on me never loosens.
Alexandre gently removes my mother from me. Nicolas begins searching my body for injuries, even though I say I'm fine.
"Wow. My sis is badas—" Pierre begins, but Mother glares at him. He closes his mouth and subtly rolls his eyes.
"There's a child in our midst, you little merde." Charles glares at Pierre, who gasps.
"Maman! Charles just swore!"
"It was in French," Charles defends himself.
I guess they don't know I speak the language. I keep my mouth shut, though, and focus on Nicolas being overprotective and trying to find any injuries on my arms.
Finally, he stands. "You look fine, Lila," He proclaims like I didn't already know I wasn't perfectly healthy to begin with.
Alexandre kneels down and I jump onto his back. He hoists me up, and I rest my head on his shoulder. I begin to drift off.
"We're leaving for Paris immediately," Father says.
"The jet is already prepared?" Mother asks.
"Of course."
Alexandre begins walking, and I pass out.
———
When I begin to come to, I feel myself lying on a plushy surface and covered by a soft blanket. I hear the voices of my family around me.
"Were there any casualties?" Nicolas asks. He must be sitting right next to me. A hand begins to stroke my hair.
"Yes, we had ten, they had two hundred. And Evelyn Rhodes was kidnapped," Alexandre responds from the other side of the jet.
My heart rate spikes when I hear this.
Evelyn was kidnapped.
She's at the Center right now.
I don't know Evelyn well, but I do know she experience little hardship while being kidnapped by her uncle.
Only a select few are built to survive the Center. Survival must be hammered into a person at a young age for the rest of their lives.
Evelyn is not made to live in the Center.
I saw her flinch when I explained the vaguest of details about my time there. She will be broken in no time.
It should've been me.
I know Sir came for me, mainly.
And now poor Evelyn is suffering. She shouldn't have to suffer. She is so sweet and caring and loving.
She deserves a happy life. She's normal. Lovable.
People like me—broken people, crazy people—should be the ones in the broken places because we can't be broken any longer.
I'm too broken to be prepared.
Evelyn is untainted. Unbroken.
I open my eyes, and sit up. I see Nicolas next to me. He smiles at me lightly. "We're almost home. You should go back to sleep," He says.
"Evelyn's at the Center?" I ask.
Everyone in the room stills. "Yes. But don't worry about her. Her family will get her out in no time."
"Do they even know where the Center is?" The Center is located where no one could find it. Not even the assassins knew where they were.
Father turns to me. "Do you know?" He raises an eyebrow and takes a sip of whiskey.
I shake my head. "But I know someone who does."
———
Hello, loves!
Lila is certainly tough for being twelve.
What do you think she'll do about Evelyn's kidnapping?
Make sure to read the other two books in the Mafia Siblings Series!
Au revoir,
Eva