Page 97 of Surprise Twins for the Mafia Prince
I want to run to Dario, to throw my arms around him, but I can’t risk distracting him. My father is a cornered animal, and cornered animals don’t lie down. They lunge.
And that’s exactly what he does.
He charges Dario, grabbing for the wrist holding the gun.
I stumble back with a gasp, my hands flying to my belly like I can somehow shield the babies with nothing but my palms.
The men struggle in the tight living room, but it’s not much of a fight.
Dario’s younger, stronger, built from years of surviving brutality.
They grapple for control of the gun. My father’s wild, desperate—cursing, sweating, trying to gain leverage. Dario lands two solid punches to his face, leaving him dazed, but still he fights.
He kicks at Dario’s legs, jerks on the arm holding the weapon, pulling Dario in close. They’re tangled together, battling for dominance.
Then—
The gun goes off.
The sound is so loud I scream. My whole body jolts, like I’ve been struck by lightning.
Time freezes.
The men go still.
Dario looks at me, regret etched across his face. Then he steps back.
My father drops.
The red spreads fast—blossoming across the front of his white shirt like a time-lapse rose blooming. The shot hit him right in the chest. I can only stand there, staring.
This was the man I thought was a good father. A victim. Someone who loved me.
He was none of those things, and yet…my heart still aches as I watch him gasp for air. He coughs, wet and ragged, blood spraying from his mouth. His limbs twitch once. Then again.
And then he goes still. Eyes wide open. Empty.
He’s gone.
I should feel something stronger—grief, or relief, or fury—but all I feel is the dull, hollow ache of something broken too long ago to mend.
There’s no time to process it.
Pain rips through me like lightning and I cry out, doubling forward instinctively.
Dario is there instantly, his hands gripping my arms, his eyes locking on mine in panic.
“Are you okay? What happened? Did he hurt you?”
“N-No. I...”
I glance down.
There’s a wet patch spreading across the front of my pants.
My throat goes dry.
“I think my water broke.”
