The Preacher's Daughter (Christian/Mafia Romance)||Completed||✔️

Chapter twenty three

'Happy birthday Craig', she whispered later that night while in bed alone.

As her mother was leaving she'd hugged her and wished her a happy birthday in advance. Apologized in advance for not being there to celebrate her eighteenth birthday.

She was officially eighteen now.

And she wasn't with her brother, so she said a simple prayer for him. On their birthday they'd prayed for each other.

Sighing one more time she closed her eyes and let sleep take over.

4am she woke up and muttered a simple prayer of 'Jesus thank you for the night' and went to prepare for training.

Entering the training grounds she wasn't surprised to see Mrs Russo and Francine there.

'Good morning ma'am, good morning Francine',

'Good morning, sleep well?', the Donna asked as she selected their weapons for training.

'Yes ma'am',

'Then let's get to it. Run three laps then we'll spar', she did a little stretch that Mrs Russo showed her before taking off.

Laps done, they began sparing where Mrs Russo gave lessons as well on swordsmanship, defense, offense and everything in-between.

At the break of dawn the training ended.

Sarah sat on the hay nearby to catch her breathe. That plan was twartted when a shadow fell over her. She looked up to see the former Don looking at her.

'Good morning Don', she greeted as she rose to her feet to do a curtesy.

'Pick up your sword, let's see what you're made off', Sarah's eyes bulged.

He chose his timing right as Mrs Russo and Francine were already out of the training grounds. She always stayed back to catch her breathe and do some breathing exercises before going back to her room.

'Sir?',

'I don't have the habit of repeating myself bambina', the mockery couldn't be missed.

She stood up and watched him throw two swords into the ground.

'Ladies first', hesitantly she picked one at random. Eyes on him.

Never take your eyes off the enemy..

Mrs Russo's lessons began in her head.

The parried for a while till the Don took the offensive. His strikes hard and merciless.

She managed to hold her ground for a while then a particular strike that could have broken her arm was blocked by another sword. Luigi's.

Never in her entire life did she think she was ever going to be happy to see him.

'Your bride too weak to hold her own Don?' Donovan sneered at Luigi.

'She doesn't need to hold her own as I hold enough for the family!', he took over the fight and it soon turned bloody.

Sarah could only watch till she saw Luigi's sword going for his father's throat.

'Stop! Please!! Luigi please!', he stopped just in time as she spoke up.

'Touch what's mine again and it'll be the last thing you do', he threw the sword away and grabbed her arm to pull her off the training grounds. Leaving his father to fend for himself.

Getting to their floor he walked ahead of her towards his room. She felt a sudden urge to go and help with his wounds.

Shaking herself she entered the room shortly after Luigi closed his doors. Of course she knocked, she wasn't suicidal.

'Let me', she took the cloth from him and began cleaning up the blood from his arms, knuckles, neck. After cleaning as much as she could clean from his face she asked to be excused.

The whole time Luigi had his eyes on her. It was unnerving.

A nod was what she got before she left the room to go take a hot bath for her muscled hurt really bad. How she didn't notice the pain till now was a miracle in it's right.

After soaking in the tub she applied some salve, took some medicine and tried to sleep off whatever she could sleep off.

****

'So you couldn't get the mother so you thought to try for the daughter? How original of you Donovan, how original?',

You'd have to be blind, stupid and twice deaf to not have heard the sarcasm Luigi used.

'Once again someone has stopped me from killing you. Which begs the question, do I really want to kill you or is toying with your life just too much fun!',

Donovan didn't say a word, of course he'd tried out the girl out of curiosity to know if what protected the mother from him was protecting her at the moment.

And he didn't have an answer because someone stepped in.

'If you have something to say then I'd suggest you get on with it and save us both the waste of time', Donovan said twirling whiskey in a glass.

Luigi laughed.

'And you think you're in any position to make demands? I think your confinement has finally messed with your mind!', he hurled Donovan across his desk and landed the blow he'd been meaning to give him.

A fight ensued.

Donovan had always been a great fighter, but he'd trained his son well. Francesca had added on, plus he'd trained as well.

Both were bloody in no time and Donovan was wheezing for breathe soon enough.

His rib cage was on fire and every breathe he took transfered that fire to his lungs. It didn't help that Luigi had him in a choke hold.

'Mama thought I wouldn't want your death on my conscience, I'll give her that as I was just a boy. Sarah is of the same opinion, though I believe it's much because of the good book that says we shouldn't kill.

Third time's the charm Donovan. And I'm begging you, please. Please put yourself in such a position as this so we find out if my poor heart can handle my killing you or not!', he said before he flung him somewhere in his room and left.

On his way out he wasn't the least bit surprised to see his mother pacing the corridor.

He never knew why the woman bothered. His father holds zero affections for her, and he knew it was the same for her. Or was it? He never really bothered to ask.

And he knew she wasn't about to go in there, she didn't want to hurt Donovan's fragile ego anymore than he'd done.

'You can go in you know, he should be unconscious. Or steadily drowning in his blood at the very best',

He didn't stopped till he got to his room, stripped off his clothes and submerged in his tub of hot water.

A statement was due, nobody. Not even his father got anywhere close to his wife and lived to tell it.

Though, living could be overated.

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