Page 35 of The Mafia's Quintuplets
I nod miserably.
"Holy shit." She runs a hand through her hair. "That's... like a movie plot. Are you sure he wasn't messing with you?"
"Pretty sure." I reach for my laptop, opening it to show her some of the articles I found. "He knows about the babies, Gisele. He knows I'm pregnant with quintuplets. He's been watching me and getting information about me somehow."
Her expression shifts from disbelief to alarm. "That's seriously creepy. What does he want?"
"He says I'm in danger. That the babies will be in danger once word gets out about them. He wants me to move to his estate where he can 'protect' us."
Gisele's eyes narrow. "And what did you tell him?"
"I told him to get out. I want nothing to do with him or his world."
She nods approvingly. "Good." Then, more cautiously, she asks, "Do you think... Do you think he might be right about the danger part?"
The question invokes implications I don't want to consider. I've been so focused on rejecting Makari and his world that I haven't fully processed the potential threat to my babies. "I don't know," I say finally. "Maybe. Probably, but that doesn't mean his solution is the right one. Trading one danger for another isn't a solution."
Gisele nods slowly. "So, what's the plan?"
The question catches me off guard. I don't have a plan. I've been reacting, not strategizing. "I don't know that either," I say, my voice small. "Right now, I'm just trying to process everything."
She squeezes my hand. "We'll figure it out. I'm with you, whatever you decide."
Her loyalty brings fresh tears to my eyes. "Thank you."
"Hey, what are best friends for if not helping you deal with mafia baby daddies?" She grins, trying to lighten the mood.
Despite everything, I find myself smiling weakly. Trust Gisele to find humor in even the most absurd situation.
"Seriously though," she continues, her expression sobering, "We should probably think about security. If this guy really is who he says he is, and if there really are people who might want to use you to get to him... We should probably at least change the locks tomorrow and maybe look into some kind of security system."
"Good idea." I reach across the table and squeeze her hand. "I'm sorry to drag you into this mess."
"Hey, that's what best friends are for, right? Criminal baby daddy drama is totally covered under the roommate agreement." She flashes a weak smile. "Besides, I'm the one who dragged you to that club in the first place."
We order takeout neither of us really wants, picking at our food while discussing practical measures. We need new locks, a doorbell camera, and possibly even a consultation with a lawyer about restraining orders. The conversation feels surreal, like we're characters in some bizarre crime drama rather than two ordinary women in a Brooklyn apartment.
Later, I lie awake in bed, staring at the ceiling and trying to quiet my racing thoughts. Sleep feels impossible with the day's revelations still echoing in my mind. I try to focus on the present moment to slow my brain. I must drift off eventually, because suddenly, I'm jerked awake by a sound that doesn't belong, splintering wood and heavy footsteps in our living room.
For one disoriented moment, I think Makari has returned, making good on his promise that our conversation wasn't over. Then I hear unfamiliar male voices, harsh whispers in a language I don't understand and realize with bone-chilling certainty that these aren't Makari's men.
I fumble for my phone on the nightstand. Before I can dial 9-1-1, my bedroom door crashes open, the lock splintering from the force of a booted kick. Two masked men stand in the doorway. Even in the dim light, I can see they're holding guns.
I freeze, terror paralyzing my limbs as one of them advances toward my bed. He says something in what sounds like Russian, gesturing with his weapon for me to get up.
"Please," I manage to whisper, one hand instinctively moving to protect my stomach. "I'm pregnant."
He responds by grabbing my arm roughly, yanking me to my feet. They're going to take me somewhere. The realization cuts through the fog of fear. They're going to kidnap me. "No!" I struggle against his grip, panic giving me strength I didn't know I possessed. "Let me go!"
From the hallway, I hear Gisele's voice. "Wil? What's happening?"
The man holding me spins around, dragging me with him as Gisele appears in the doorway, her eyes widening with horror as she takes in the scene.
"Get out," she screams, lunging toward us with reckless courage. "Get away from her!"
Everything happens in terrible slow motion. The second man raises his gun as she throws herself forward. The crack of the gunshot is deafening in the confined space of my bedroom. Gisele's body jerks unnaturally then crumples to the floor. Blood blooms across her favorite sleep shirt, the oversized NYU tee she's had since freshman year, spreading with terrifying speed.
A scream tears from my throat, raw and primal. I wrench free from the man's grasp and drop to my knees beside her. Blood is everywhere, hot and sticky against my hands as I press them to the wound in her chest. "Gisele? No, no, no... Stay with me. Please stay with me!"
