I was about to respond when my phone rang in my pocket, cutting me off. She turned her back on me with that contemptuous look only she could pull off, helping Rafael buckle up.
“Lorenzo, do you have news about the Rasili?” I answered, stepping a little aside, my gaze landing on Elif and Selina as they emerged from the restaurant, Samy close behind them.
“Where are you?” the Italian asked, urgency in his voice making me freeze. My eyes met Nikolai’s a few steps away as he spoke with Grigori. “Outside. Family dinner,” I replied quickly as my heart began to pound, a very bad feeling creeping over me. “Something’s happening, but it’s not coming from us,” Lorenzo informed me, his hurried footsteps echoing as he ran somewhere. Grigori and Nikolai joined me, their expressions confused.
My eyes scanned our surroundings. Roman was a little farther away, talking with Marcus and other bodyguards. Elif and Selina were halfway to the cars, Elif keeping her arm tucked under Selina’s to prevent any mishap, Samy close behind. The children and Sienna were already in the minivan. Everything was fine.
“One of Alia’s men confessed to one of mine,” Lorenzo continued. “According to him, they were done, said the Ivanovs’ account would soon be settled.” I tried to process his words. “By whom? Where? How?” I demanded, just as I felt Sienna approaching behind me. “I don’t know. The only thing he said was that they were going to destroy your foundation,” he added, and my mind started racing. Our foundation? My gaze went first to Grigori. He was the foundation of the Bratva, was he the target? No. It wasn’t the Bratva they wanted to attack. It was the Ivanovs, the Ivanovs’ foundation. My eyes lifted slowly to Elif, who was laughing with Selina a few meters away from us. Our foundation, the one that held us together, the one that kept us standing, the one that guided us, “Elif,” I breathed.
Suddenly, the roar of an engine echoed down the street growing louder and louder, drawing all our attention to the road. And then a motorcycle appeared at the intersection. Two men were on it. One was driving, the other was armed. With a machine gun, a machine gun that was raised toward my sisters, who had stopped at the sound. “Elif!” I bellowed as her eyes widened at the sight of the weapon. “The children!” she shouted, pushing Selina behind her as Samy was already running toward them.
And everything happened at once.
I half-turned and shoved Sienna inside the vehicle with the children before slamming the door shut, sealing them behind the bulletproof glass. My brothers ran toward their wives, but it was already too late. Bullets rained down. Samy threw himself in front of them, his body tearing open as multiple bullets pierced him. Elif covered Selina on the ground, “Selina!” Nikolai bellowed, rushing toward her, but David tackled him to the ground as Marcus did the same with Grigori when the machine gun fire turned on them. The bullets shattered the restaurant’s windows. Screams and panicked cries erupted inside. With Roman and the bodyguards, we fired at the motorcycle as it weaved between cars, making it nearly impossible to hit. My brother finally struck the shooter, who fell from the bike and rolled across the asphalt while his partner fled without a backward glance. The man groaned on the ground as our men rushed to secure him, but I didn’t register any of it. My body moved on instinct, sprinting toward the three motionless figures on the pavement. Samy wasn’t moving, dozens of bullets were lodged in his body, blood pouring out. He might not even have been breathing anymore.
Then my gaze snapped to Elif as she struggled upright, one arm around Selina, who groaned softly. “Selina? Are you okay? Selina?!” Elif asked, breathless, one hand pressed to my sister-in-law’s rounded belly.
Selina nodded faintly, “yes… I think so,” she finally answered, shaking her head before her eyes fell on Samy’s lifeless body. “Oh, Samy…” she sobbed, her hands flying to her mouth as Nikolai dropped beside her, pulling her face into his chest, his trembling hands rubbing her back. “Selina!” Sienna cried, opening the car door without getting out. My eyes immediately scanned her body for any sign of injury but there was none. The bullets hadn’t reached the vehicle. The children’s cries echoed inside the car. Andrei and Rafael were tucked under her arms while Mikhail had pulled Ivan and Dimitri down between the seats, his alert gaze scanning the chaos. “Elif,” Grigori breathed, sliding an arm around her waist to steady her. “Are you okay?” he asked from behind and she nodded, still dazed. “Yes, I’m…” suddenly, she frowned and pressed a hand to the black fabric of her dress and when she pulled it away, it was red.Red. Her fingers were soaked in red.In blood.
She slowly lifted her gaze to her husband standing behind her, his eyes fixed on his wife’s stained fingers, “Elif,” he murmured and our foundation cracked.
Elif’s legs gave out, and she collapsed into her husband’s arms and he fell to his knees with her, his wide eyes never leaving her face and I heard it.
My brothers heard it too as we stared at the woman on the ground, the woman who had raised us, the woman who had loved us, who had cherished us like her own children, who had made men out of us, we heard the fracture. The tremor of the Ivanovs, everything blurred together. The red, Samy’s and Elif’s. Elif’s and Mother’s.
Grigori holding Elif. Grigori holding Mother.
Gunshots kept echoing through the reception hall, but the screams faded one by one.
Polina struck Mother across the face before starting to strangle her, both hands wrapped around my mother’s throat as she tried to fight her off. The Glock was there, right in front of me, within reach. I could save Mom. I could help Mom. “Don’t move, Roman,” I ordered my brother as I stepped out of my hiding place, my hands gripping the cold metal of the gun.
I aimed it at Polina, who was laughing, until Mother suddenly slammed her fist into Polina’s throat, forcing her to release her grip and fall back onto her ass. I had to help Mom. Like Grigori and Nikolai. I was strong too. I clenched my teeth and pulled the trigger, the click echoed around me, inside me, but no gunshot followed. No bullet left the weapon.
“You little brat!” Polina suddenly screamed, her crazed gaze snapping to me as she got back on her feet, rage twisting her face as she grabbed the knife she had used to wound Mother.
Fear froze me. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t run. I trembled as she raised the knife, my eyes unable to leave the gleaming blade. I waited to feel pain, any pain. A stab had to hurt, right?
But I felt nothing. Nothing bad. Nothing painful. Instead, I felt warmth. Softness. Safety. Home. My mother’s arms wrapped around me, her groan echoing in my ear. Over her shoulder, my gaze landed on Polina’s face, her expression dull, her eyes widening as a slow smile stretched across her lips.
“Yes!” she screamed, pulling her arm back before driving it forward again, and again, and again, rejoicing while I felt Mom trembling against me. “Mom?” I whispered.
Suddenly, blood splattered across my face as Polina yanked her arm back once more. “It’s going to be okay, Sasha. It’s going to be okay,” Mother breathed as her hand closed around mine. Her fingers wrapped around the gun, click. The safety, I hadn’t taken the safety off.
Suddenly, mom shoved me to the ground and I fell onto my back as she pivoted swiftly onto her knees, the gun aimed straight at Polina’s face.
Polina froze, but she didn’t have time to do anything else. Mother fired and the bullet struck Polina square in the forehead, her head snapped back, blood spraying from the back of her skull as she collapsed to her knees. Her knife clattered to the floor, her knife, soaked in blood. My gaze dropped to the ground, and I gasped, there was a puddle. A puddle like when Roman had spilled tomato sauce on the floor. But there was more. So much more.
Mother’s gun slipped from her hand as she slowly lay back onto the floor, into the puddle, her chest rising and falling rapidly. I couldn’t move. Roman couldn’t either, still hidden under the table, his eyes fixed on Mom. Mom didn’t move anymore, only her chest rising and falling.
Silence gradually settled in as hurried footsteps approached, but I still couldn’t move as the puddle spread before my eyes.
“Mom!” Grigori screamed, dropping to his knees beside her, laying her head on his thighs.
Nikolai knelt too, his trembling hands clasping mom’s hand. Why were they all stepping into the puddle? They were going to get dirty. Mom’s pretty dress was going to get dirty. I stood up and started walking toward them. My shoes sank into the puddle, my white soles turning red.
Red like blood.
“Sasha,” my mother whispered, reaching her other hand toward me. I took it, it was cold. Like when we’d built a snowman last winter. “You’re cold, mom,” I said and she smiled softly, her face pale. Why was she so pale? “I’m proud of you, Sasha, and I always will be,” she murmured as a tear slid down her temple. I caught it with my fingertip as my own tears welled up. “Mom,” I sobbed, fear clawing at my chest.“Don’t cry, my son. It’s time to be strong now. You must protect each other,” she whispered, her breathing growing weaker and weaker.
