Page 3 of Sins of the Father
The men downstairs weren’t just visitors. The extra guards weren’t just help. Her family wasn’t just different.
They were dangerous.
For the first time, Mia understood—so was her father.
A couple of days later,Mia waited anxiously for her father to return home. He was away on business, leaving Mia with Donata and a handful of guards who never seemed to last more than a shift. Donata explained that her father’s paranoia didn’t allow for trust, and they often had several different men protecting them. Mia yawned and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. She wanted to sleep, but her father had promised to bring her something special from his trip, and she had spent the whole day waiting, excited for his return.
“Come, little one, it is time for bed.”
“Just a little bit more,” Mia protested. “Papa will be here soon.”
“I’ll read you another story then, and we’ll see.”
Mia smiled and nestled into her bed, hugging her stuffed unicorn to her chest. Her eyelids drooped before Donata finished the story, and she was barely aware of being tucked in and hearing the softclickof the door as Donata slipped from the room.
A loud, sharp crash jolted Mia upright in bed. Before she could fully process it, she distinctly heard—Pop! Pop! Pop!
Mia’s stomach dropped.
“Donata?” she called, her voice trembling.
Donata flung open their adjoining door and froze, staring at her. Mia shoved the coverlet from her body but stayed in bed. Donata’s calm, familiar demeanor had vanished. She crept to the door, cracked it open, and peeked out. She turned back to Mia, her voice low and urgent. “Get in the hiding place.Now.”
Mia stared, wide-eyed. “What’s happening?”
“Don’t ask questions,” Donata snapped, her voice harsher than Mia had ever heard. “Go. Now!”
Mia scrambled out of bed as Donata yanked open the wardrobe and slid the hidden panel aside. She pushed Mia inside with trembling hands.
“Stay here,” Donata said, crouching to look Mia in the eye. “No matter what you hear, you stay put. Do you understand?”
Mia nodded, tears stinging her eyes.
“Not a sound, Mia. Promise me.”
“I promise,” she whispered.
Donata hesitated, brushing a quick kiss on Mia’s forehead, before sliding the panel shut.
In the darkness, Mia hugged her knees to her chest. She heard muffled voices, heavy footsteps, and another crash. Each sound made her flinch. Through the crack, she saw Donata pretending to tidy the room, her hands trembling. Then the doorburst open. Heavy footsteps thundered in, followed by deep, menacing voices.
“Where is she?” one demanded.
Donata dropped to her knees, her voice shaking. “She’s not here. She’s at her aunt’s house.”
A heavy silence followed.
Then a cold, measured voice: “I won’t ask again.”
“She really is not here, sir, I—”
Pop!
The gunshot made Mia flinch so hard she slammed her head against the wood above her. Through the crack in the crawl space door, she saw Donata collapse onto her knees. Mia bit down on her knuckles, muffling the scream clawing its way out. Donata’s hands clutched her side, blood pooling fast beneath her. She gasped, a soft sound torn from her throat, but no cry escaped. She did not fall. She stayed on her knees, trembling yet unbroken, her expression resolute. She didn’t look toward the crawl space. She wouldn’t give them a reason to check.
“Search the house,” the voice barked.
Footsteps thundered through the rooms, distant at first, then growing louder, closer, as they swept every corner.
