“Get your bags, Haven!” she practically shrieks while running past my room to get to hers.
A slap echoes through the air, then more shouting follows. Holy crap, I don’t know what’s going on downstairs, but it doesn’t sound good. They’re all talking so fast I can’t make out any of the words and quickly dart back into my bedroom.
I’m wearing a pair of loose slacks and a spaghetti strap top, and for a second, I consider changing into something else, but the angry shouts escalate. Chills rush down my spine, and I push my feet into a comfortable pair of sneakers. Hurrying to the bathroom, I shove everything into my toiletries bag before placing it in my luggage.
I grab my belongings that are lying around the room, and by the time I zip up my bags, the door slams open, and Mom says, “Come, Haven. Quickly!”
I swipe my handbag from the bed and loop the strap over my head so it’s resting across my chest. That way it won’t slide off my shoulder. Taking hold of my luggage, I drag the two heavy bags out of the room.
As we hurry down the hallway, I ask, “How are we going to get the bags down the stairs?”
“Just shove them down,” Mom snaps, and the next second her bags go flying down the staircase.
My eyebrows raise, and when Mom grabs a bag from me, I don’t waste more time and toss the other one. We quickly hurry to the first floor only to be met by Uncle Nicolo, Aunt Giada, Luciano, and Liliano, who are all screaming their heads off.
I take in Luciano’s busted lip and the cut above his left eyebrow.
Uncle Nicolo notices us, and with an aggressive tone, he snaps at Mom, “You’re not going anywhere.”
Mom’s face sets in a stony expression, but there’s also fear in her eyes. “I don’t know what kind of trouble you’re involved with, but we’re leaving.”
We pick up our bags and position them on their wheels so we can pull them, but then a commotion sounds up outside. A gunshot from the front yard has me freezing with fear.
What the hell is happening?
Uncle Nicolo pulls a gun from behind his back and shouts, “Luciano, take your mother and sister out the back. Run!”
“Come!” Mom shrieks, her features drawn tight as if she’s about to burst into tears any second.
Mom speed walks toward the sliding doors that lead out onto the veranda with me right behind her, but suddenly three armedmen storm the glass doors, and it has all of us stopping dead in our tracks.
“Oh God!” I gasp, my heartbeat setting off at a crazy pace.
Mom lets go of the luggage, and grabbing my hand, she hauls ass back toward the stairs.
We don’t even make it to the first step when the front door slams open. Intense shock and fear shudders through me when Leo and the other man he was with at the party stalk into the foyer. Holding guns, they’re both wearing black cargo pants and black shirts.
Leo has blood all over his neck and forearms, which are visible because his sleeves are rolled up. The sight makes my fear skyrocket. He lifts his arm, the muscles beneath his golden skin wound tight.
As he trains his weapon on Uncle Nicolo, he growls, “Your coward of a son got one of my men killed.”
Mom begins to drag me up the stairs, but then a man behind us shouts something in Italian, and a bullet slams into the banister right in front of Mom.
Shrieking, I grab hold of Mom, intense fear bleeding through my body.
The image of a boy crouching over me flashes through my mind. I’m gripping his shirt, and he’s like a shield protecting me from the monster looming behind him.
‘Shh.’
When I was younger, I used to have nightmares, but I haven’t thought of them in years, so the memory of the nightmare only makes this situation a million times worse.
The violence unfolding around me undoes the years of therapy it took me to stop having nightmares.
The gunshot and my shriek draw Leo’s attention to us, his eyes only touching on Mom for a split second before they lock on me for an unnervingly long moment.
I’m grabbed by my arm, and it has Mom shrieking, “No! Let go of her.”
“I’m sorry,” I hear Luciano say from somewhere to the left of me. “I panicked.”
