The Great Godmother

The cemetery behind the estate was cold and damp. Without a care, the bodyguards dragged us, shoving us in front of a headstone. Xavier’s little hand trembled in mine, but he didn’t make a sound.

I had thought James would show some mercy by letting us go after an hour or two. However, we were forced to kneel through the entire night before he finally sent someone to say we could stop.

By midnight, Xavier ran a fever. I held him to my chest and understood, with a pain that burned deeper than before, just how cruel James could be.

When we returned to the estate, the quiet was ripped apart by the heavy staccato of gunfire. The bodyguards who had accompanied us dropped like flies, and I instinctively curled around Xavier.

Through the gunshots, Hilary’s scream cut like a knife. She was dragged out of the main hall, cradling the newborn in her arms, by a group of men in black. They then shoved the distraught Hilary, her child, Xavier, and me into a waiting car.

Later, in a dark warehouse, Hilary and I were tied to separate chairs. My son lay in my arms, while Hilary held her baby.

Hilary spat at the leader of the kidnappers. “Do you know who I am?”

The leader kicked an iron drum beside her. The clang echoed like thunder.

“Shut up!” he barked.

He stepped up, pinched Xavier’s chin, and dialed James on his phone. Then, he put the call on speaker.

“Don Hill, I have your woman and child, as well as your brother’s widow and son.” He glanced at a length of fuse coiled on the floor and continued, “The bomb goes off in ten minutes. You don’t have much time. You can only save two.”

Hilary screamed. “James! Save me! Save our child!”

I saw Xavier open his eyes, but he didn’t cry. He only listened, small and still.

On the other end, James’s breathing was heavy. A long, hollow three seconds passed before he spoke, flat and final.

“I choose Hilary and the child.”

The kidnapper snorted with delight and hung up.

Hilary’s wails cut off instantly, replaced by an ugly, triumphant laugh. I lowered my head and pressed a kiss to Xavier’s fever-hot forehead. Everything felt like it ended in that single, cold breath.

The kidnappers untied Hilary. As she carried her baby past me, she paused and leaned in close, so only I could hear.

“Pia,” she whispered, “you lost. You were never my match.”

I simply ignored her.

After Hilary left, the leader came back to us. “Since Don Hill has chosen, you’re useless to us now.”

He then lit the fuse and left, the glowing red string slithering across the floor to us like a hungry snake.

Just as my heart dropped into a pit, gunshots and screams roared from outside. The warehouse doors were kicked open.

Men in black riot gear, with my family’s black hawk insignia stitched across their chests, stormed in. At their head was Dad’s most trusted underboss, Kane Lee.

He quickly made his way to me, cut the ropes at my wrists, and dropped to one knee. “Principessa, I’m sorry you were frightened. Don Gerald has ordered me to bring you and the young sir home.”

I clung to Xavier in my arms as Kane and my family shepherded us out of that living hell.

As the helicopter blades thudded overhead, I cast one last look at the rising smoke and thought, ‘James, from now on, we would never meet again.’

When James finally burst into the warehouse, all he found was fire and black smoke. The flames painted his face in angry orange, and his eyes reddened.

“Find out who did this,” he told his men, voice hoarse. “I want them to pay.”