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Kaylo's heart forgot how to beat for a moment as he heard the demand. His gaze darted between Sarah, sobbing on the ground, and back to his father's bloodshot eyes.
"What?" The words escaped him in disbelief.
"You heard me. Be a good boy and follow my orders, Kaylo Di Marco," his father whispered each syllable, carrying a weighty force that hung heavily in the air.
I turned my face, stealing a glimpse of Kaylo, then back at Sarah, lowering my head onto his shoulder with closed eyes. I felt the rise and fall of his chest and the rapid beat of his heart against my body. When I opened my eyes, I found myself looking at Dior, crying and holding Rhead on the floor. I could hear Sarah's desperate cries from behind, pleading to be released from this harrowing situation, yearning to escape.
"I— can't," Kaylo muttered, his gaze fixed on his father.
"If not you, then let me do it for you." His father threw him a dead stare and ruthlessly tightened his grip around Sarah's hair.
He hesitated, torn between the horror of complying with his father's monstrous demand or the fear of letting his father carry out the heinous act himself.
"Fight back, Kay, please... d-don't hurt us." The words barely audible, my plea clung to the air like a fragile whisper. He shifted slightly, casting a glance at my face, a face etched with fear, fear of getting us killed. His jaw ticked in helplessness before redirecting his gaze back to his father, pointing the gun at him.
His father's gaze shifted from the pointed gun to his son's eyes, "You're really going to point a gun at your father for your friends who don't even exist?" he scoffed, simultaneously pulling Sarah up and pressed his hand against her windpipe, tightening his grip.
"No! Leave her." Kaylo released his grip on me and rushed towards his father, attempting to free her from his grasp. In response, he received a merciless slap that sent him sprawling to the ground.
"K-k-Kaylo," Dior's lips quivered, fear etched on his face, his fingers trembling as he held onto our unconscious Rhead.
I have always hoped Kaylo could break free from this mafia world, and build a barrier against it. Yet, at this moment, my yearning shifted to a desperate urge to leap over that metaphorical wall, seize the gun from Kaylo, and put an end to his father's malevolence. It felt like the only solution, the only way to stop the unfolding tragedy. As I poised to act, gunshots and commotion erupted outside the room, catching us all off guard and forcing our attention toward the door.
His father released his hold on Sarah, and she crumpled to the ground, her gaze meeting Kaylo's and she gasped for breath after escaping the clutches of his father. My gaze followed the slow stride of his father towards the doorway, where a tumultuous scene played out below—his men locked in fierce combat with their adversaries, the staccato rhythm of gunfire echoing through the air, and brutality unfurling in the chaos.
