Vows And Revenge

"I think I've had enough," Lena grumbled as she leaned back on her chair and patted her belly.

"Nonsense, figlia," her father scolded. "There's no such thing as having too much lasagna."

"I've found my limits, Papa," she answered. "If any more lasagna goes into me I might die."

"Don't say things like that, Lena," her mother snapped, her fork falling from her hand. "Think before you speak."

Lena lowered her eyes. "I'm sorry, Mama." 

Beside her, her elder brother, Adriano, gave her a sympathetic smile before he continued eating, not saying anything like he always did. 

It was like every other evening in Santoro's mansion. The Santoro family had dinners like this every day without fail. 

But for the past weeks, there haven't been any family talks. Lena's father has become tense lately. The smallest of things irritated him, the smallest noise caused him to flinch, and he left immediately after dinner. 

Lena has never seen her father like this before and it bothered her to no end. She had tried to talk to him several times but he always dismissed her with a word so she had stopped trying.

Adriano was done with his food so he and his father were deep into a discussion. 

Lena stared at the chandelier, lost in her head. 

"Lena," her father called. Her father barely called her by her given name, so when he did, she knew it was serious.

Her eyes fell to him and he had a frown on his face as he watched her. 

"There's something important we would like to discuss with you," he said. 

She shifted in her seat, suddenly uncomfortable. She looked at her mother and brother and they both had the same look on their faces.

She swallowed. "I'm listening, Papa."

Her father nodded. "This wil–"

Her father's words were cut off by the sound of gunshots and their windows breaking.

"Get down!" Adriano shouted before he threw Lena down and covered her body with his. 

The gunshots died down and the room fell silent. But not for long.

She couldn't see more than the ground but she saw black boots entering their house. She raised her head slightly but Adriano pushed her head back down. But not before she saw men in black masks with big guns. There were up to ten men. 

A cold shiver passed through her.

"How dare you break into my home?" She had never heard her father's voice so cold like that. 

"You've forced our hand, Santoro," a deep voice answered. "You do not betray the Mafia and walk away."

The Mafia. What was happening?

"Give us what we came here for," the man continued, "and we'll leave."

Her father laughed, the sound bitter. "Do you take me for a fool, Antoine? You have come to kill me. And whether I give you what you want or not you'll do what you've been sent here to do."

Antoine didn't deny it. How did her father know these people? 

"Then let's not waste time here, Santoro," Antoine said. "Give us what we came here for." 

"I would rather die."

"Alessio," Lena's mother called her father's name, her voice soft and trembling.

"Ssshh, Mio Amore. Nothing will happen to you."

"Don't give your wife false hope, Santoro," Antoine mocked.

Lena couldn't see what was happening but she knew her father's face was twisted with anger. His voice confirmed that. "You will not touch my family." 

"Give us what we came here for. Your family will live."

Her father said nothing. Why was he keeping quiet?

There was a beat of silence before she heard her mother's voice. She was screaming, shouting at the men to leave her alone. Her father's voice joined, throwing threats to the men. 

Lena tried to raise her head but her brother pushed her back down, his body still covering hers. "Stay still," he hissed.

"This is your last warning, Santoro. Give us what we came here for and prevent this."