NADIA
"Mom, what's going on?" I asked, my heart racing like a jackhammer in my chest. The sound of gunshots echoed through the house, making my skin crawl.
"They're here," she said, her voice firm and urgent. "We have to leave, now." She emphasized the last word, her eyes locked on mine as she gathered her things.
I stood up slowly, my mind reeling. "What?"
"Just listen to me for once," she snapped, her patience wearing thin.
I nodded, grabbing my belongings – clothes, phone, laptop – grateful I'd already done some packing. "What about Zeke?" I asked, my voice shaking.
"He left earlier," she said, a hint of relief in her voice. "He's waiting for us at the other house."
My panic spiked. "Dad... Ma, we have to get Dad. How are we—"
"Don't worry, his room has a safe lock," she said, her voice calm and reassuring. "There's a secret exit, and our men have it under control for now. Our mission is to get to your father's room without getting hurt."
I swallowed hard, feeling like I was going to disappear into thin air. "Okay," I whispered.
My mom handed me a heavy, cold steel gun, fully loaded. The last time I'd held one was during shooting lessons with my brother. I never thought I'd use it in a situation like this.
"You ready?" she asked, her eyes locked on mine.
Hell no, I thought, but I nodded anyway.
As we crept out of the room, the sounds of gunshots grew louder. The living room was in shambles – shattered glass, torn pictures, furniture riddled with bullets. My mom moved swiftly, her gun at the ready. When a man appeared in front of us, she shot him without hesitation. I stepped back, shocked.
She dragged me by the hand into the study, which was surprisingly intact. "What are we doing here?" I asked, but she just slid open a hidden door, revealing a keypad. She punched in a code, and the door swung open, revealing an arsenal of weapons – handguns, rifles, knives, and grenades.
Her eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and pride. "Perks of being an arms dealer," she said, her voice low and husky.
As I packed the arsenal into the duffle bag, my mom's words echoed in my mind: "Grab everything we need." I stuffed the bag with guns, knives, and grenades, my hands moving swiftly. My mom walked away to make a phone call, her voice hushed as she spoke to Alonzo, my dad's right-hand man.
"How many men are there?" she asked, her tone urgent. I couldn't help but listen in, trying to piece together the situation. From what I gathered, they were trying to eliminate the men on the ground floor to prevent them from reaching the third floor, where my dad was. Some men had already breached the second floor, but they were determined to keep them from advancing further.
When my mom finished the call, I asked, "What did he say?"
She turned to me, her expression grim. "They're trying to flank us, get us pinned down. We need to move, now."
Before she could finish, a gunshot pierced the air, and my mom stumbled, her eyes widening in shock. I saw the man who'd shot her, and without hesitation, I raised my gun and fired twice. The man crumpled to the ground, and I felt a rush of adrenaline mixed with horror.
My mom's voice brought me back to reality. "You have to go, Nadia. I'll slow you down."
I refused to leave her behind. "I'm not going without you. I'd rather die."
My mom's eyes locked onto mine, determination burning within them. "Grab the other duffle bag with the clothes. You'll need it."
I slung the bag over my shoulder, and my mom strapped on the other, her movements swift and efficient. We left the study, entering a narrow room that led to the third floor. The stairs were too exposed, but this route would get us to my dad's room safely.
As we emerged onto the third floor, a figure caught my attention. Vincent Grey sat in a chair, smoking a cigar, a smug smile spreading across his face. My mom's reaction was instantaneous. "What the hell are you doing here?" she spat, her anger palpable.
Vincent's smile never wavered. "Calm down, Catherine. It's not worth it."
My mom's fury boiled over. "You think you can just sneak up on us, kill my husband behind his back? You're a coward. You know exactly why you can't face him like a man."
The air was electric with tension as my mom's words hung in the air. Vincent's expression shifted, his eyes flashing with anger. "You have no right to lecture me," he snarled. "You don't know what I've been through."
My mom's laughter was cold, mirthless. "You think you know pain? You don't know a half of what I've endured. I was young, naive, and you used me. You turned me against him, and we fell. If you think you can kill my husband while I'm here, you're kidding yourself."
The confrontation was escalating, and I knew things were about to get out of hand. My mom's words dripped with venom, her anger and hurt pouring out like an open wound. Vincent's face twisted, his resentment simmering just below the surface.
As I stood frozen, my mom's conflict with Vincent raged on. But my attention was drawn to my hand. The door to my dad's room was slightly ajar, and I noticed a small creak. My mom was oblivious, distracted by her anger and hurt. I tried to get her attention, "Mom," but she waved me off, "Not now, Nadia."
I persisted, "Mom, look." This time, she turned to me, her eyes flashing with irritation. But when she saw the door, her expression changed. Time seemed to stand still as she took in the scene. I felt a chill run down my spine, a sense of foreboding that I couldn't shake. The air was thick with tension, and I knew something was wrong.
My mom burst into the room, and I followed closely behind. The bed was empty, the sheets rumpled, and the hospital equipment still humming. But my dad was nowhere to be seen. My mom's scream echoed in my mind, "Where the hell is he? Where did you take him?" she demanded, her voice rising to a fever pitch.
Vincent's smile was infuriating, "I did what I've always wanted to do for the past twenty years." My mom lunged at him, "You wouldn't dare touch him. You wouldn't dare do anything to him."
Vincent's smirk only grew wider, "Is that how you underestimate me? After all these years, you still don't know me." My mom's anger boiled over, and she charged at him. But then she disappeared into the bathroom, and a loud scream pierced the air.
I followed her into the bathroom, and what I saw will haunt me forever. My dad's body lay on the floor, unconscious and bloody. I felt like I'd been punched in the gut, my breath knocked out of me. I fell to my knees, sobbing uncontrollably. All the hope I'd held onto, all the dreams of my dad recovering and being with us again, were shattered in that moment.
The realization hit me like a ton of bricks – Vincent had ended my dad's life, and I was consumed by rage and grief. I got up, my eyes blurring with tears, and aimed the gun at Vincent. I felt like a different person, driven by anger and a desire for revenge. I was ready to do anything to make Vincent pay for what he'd done.
And I pulled the trigger.