Page 18 of Broken Mafia Prince
“Hey, what’s going on here?” I ask, feigning a boldness I don’t feel.
Rocco glances over his shoulder and rolls his eyes. “Be on your merry way, little Raff.”
For the first time, I notice the mangy mutt standing at their feet. The poor thing looks terrified, its big, sad eyes darting around for a way out… or a savior.
I suddenly remember the soldier from my book, how he didn’t cower in the face of danger. “Get away from him!” I charge forward, stepping between the dog and the boys, then turn to it. “Get out of here, save yourself.”
But the dog does the opposite and clings to my leg, whimpering and shaking.
Rocco sneers. “Look at the freaks sticking together.”
“We’re not freaks!” The words burst from me, my fingers curling into fists at my side.
The boys burst into laughter, and Rocco takes a threatening step forward, raising the club in my view. “This is your last chance, little Raff, get the hell away from here.”
I notice for the first time that all the boys are holding some kind of weapon. The first sliver of fear rolls through me. The dog whimpers again, and the fear is replaced by anger.
“I’m not letting you hurt the dog!” I growl.
“Your choice.” Rocco laughs. “Get him, boys!”
I scoop up the dog and turn to run, but I don’t see one of the boys’ legs in my path. I trip, falling hard, throwing my body over the dog to protect it. That’s when the first hit of the club comes down on my back.
I howl in pain as bats, planks, and kicks rain down on me, the boys laughing cruelly all the while, while the dog wails in the safety of my arms.
“Let’s get out of here,” Rocco spits. “These freaks aren’t worth our time.”
“Take this for the road!” one of the other boys snarls, bringing down his plank again. This time, I feel a hot flash of pain as it strikes the side of my face. I scream, cupping my face in agony.
“Shit… you hit him too hard!”
“I didn’t mean to.”
“Let’s go, let’s go!” Rocco orders, and the boys scatter. The slap of sneakers against the pavement echoes long after they’ve gone.
My face feels like it’s on fire. I lie there for what feels like hours, tears rolling down my cheeks. I finally get up when the dog begins to lick the other side of my face. Slowly, I lift it into my arms and make the excruciating walk back to my house, sneaking in through the servant’s entrance to avoid being seen.
There’s a small bathroom at the back of the kitchen that no one ever uses. That’s my destination now. The fluorescent lights flicker, but they’re enough to reveal the blood soaking one side of my face.
My stomach churns with horror. I start washing the blood off, wincing with each movement. But the pain is worse when I pull out the first-aid kit and pour alcohol over the cuts.
I bite down on my arm to muffle my scream, breaking skin. Once I’ve wrapped the bandages around my face, I scoop the dog into my arms and crawl into the dry tub.
“Hello there.” I smile at the mutt. It butts its head under my chin. It’s a mix of a dozen different breeds, and probably the ugliest dog I’ve ever seen, but I think he’s cool.
“What do you think about Laika?” I ask him. “I know it’s a girl’s name, but it’s the name of a very brave dog. She was the first dog to orbit Earth. Isn’t that cool?”
Laika barks, tongue lolling. I laugh, then wince as the movement pulls at my injuries. “Ouch. I don’t think I’ll be laughing for a while.”
He snuggles into my arm again, and there in that tub, I feel proud for being so brave and making a new friend. I wonder what Mother will think about him.
5
GIULIA
Giulia—7 years old
“You’re back, Papa!” I say excitedly, jumping down from the step stool I’ve been using to reach the stove.
