Balotelli-Bale Series Book #6: Regina Mia & The Godfather Part 1

Chapter 34: Fight Or Flight Part 2

Keira's POV
The first time I ever heard the sound of a gun was when I accompanied my father for a hunting trip. I was scared of the noise and he gave me earmuffs. Later on, he taught me how to hold a gun. My mom protested viciously. She said he was teaching me how to be violent. I'm glad he didn't listen.

"Are you hurt?" I asked Marcelle when the shooting stopped. He is reloading and we have seconds before we have holes in our bodies.

"No." He whimpered. I've never seen so much fear in his eyes.

The other guy is getting up. I can still see my shotgun, this time on the floor. It's close. I looked at my son and then at the gun. I wish I could shelter him from this. "Hands over your ears, close your eyes. Stay down." I told him.

I grabbed the shotgun, exposing myself to the man coming down the stairs, the same man I tried to keep from going upstairs. We raised our guns almost at the same time. At this moment, I can see my father. I can feel him guiding my hands, adjusting my stance. I fired the gun, one, twice and he came tumbling down. I turned to the second one and fired at him too just as he shot at me.

He took went down. I grabbed Marcelle from the corner. His eyes are closed, his hands over his ears. "Run. Run and hide. I'll find you." I nudged him forward and that is what he did. He ran.

I picked up more shells for the shotgun and I went outside with the determination of a hundred men.

"Darya!" I screamed.

I can see two cars. I can hear Marcella screaming and the twins crying. They will not take my girls!

I broke into a run, barefooted on the grass, icy wind from the lake piercing my bare skin. I raced down the dimly lit driveway, my heart pounding against my ribcage like a trapped bird desperate for freedom. Each breath is a struggle, each step a painful reminder of the agony gripping my soul. They will not take my girls!

My children's laughter echo in my mind, haunting me with memories of happier times now shattered by the cruel reality of the mob. Tears are streaming down my cheeks, blurring my vision as I stumble forward, driven by an unrelenting determination to reclaim what is rightfully mine. They will not take my girls!

I raised my shotgun, bravely opening fire on the man who is preparing to fire at me. I came to a stop and started walking, taking the kick from the shotgun like my father taught me.

I took shelter behind a tree when I became overwhelmed. I hid, hoping that the bullets don't hit me. With every passing second, the fear that Darya will win is forcing me out to take a random shot at them. The fear that I might never hold my children again is tightening its suffocating grip around my heart.

I will not lose my children tonight!

"Marcella!" I screamed out her name as they force her into the car.

"Mommy!" Her scream a reached in the night.

I'm about to ask her to di something a child her age has no advsbtag in. I believe that fear is a great incentive to right back. It's fear that made Marcelle save me from being assaulted.

"Fight back!" I screamed as I came out of hiding. The words are just not for her but for me too. A reminder that tonight is not the night we go down quietly.

With panic clawing at my chest, threatening to consume me whole, I kept shooting. I finally got one man. Marcella is kicking harder, screaming and when I heard Darya cuss, she broke away and she ran in my direction.

"Don't shoot her!" Darya shouted.

Opportunity!

I shot at her instead but she got into the back SUV.