𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬; 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐣𝐮𝐝𝐠𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦; 𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲, 𝐢𝐟 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦.                          
~𝐎𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐞~

𝐋𝐮𝐜

The man on the ground groaned.

Moaned in pain. The shrieking whimper of pain disappeared deep into his throat that he wasn't able to let it out, tears he couldn't control slid at the corner of his eyes.

I felt his agony, he wasn't old, perhaps in his early twenties, plenty much like me, but seeing how alone he had accosted the girls meant he was a sacrificial lamb. Whoever that sent him knew he might not survive, or succeed in kidnapping any of us, or maybe they thought the girls were fair game. Whichever it was, I pitied him. It was unfortunate, perhaps unfair, but such is life he had chosen or thrashed into.

"Alessa, Serena, are you okay?" I hear the sounds of our mothers panicking, their feet loudly thudding the ground running toward us, I get out, leaving the man bundled in the middle of the room, his body in a fetal position. I see them running, holding the flounce of their long skirt, barefoot, their shoes long forgotten while the patriarchs stroll casually behind them.

"We are okay." Serena and Alessa say in unison, falling into the women's embrace. Their arms are long, encircling them as if they're small and helpless, ironic, really because Alessa just incapacitated a grown man.

"Oh, we heard you. I thought you would be in danger." this is from my mother, her hands are trembling as she tucks a few strands of hair under Alessa's ear. I can see her trying really hard not to cry, but she loses the strength to hold the tears because suddenly they stream unheaded across her face.

Alessa pulls her into her arms, and I can see my mother's shoulders shaking.

"I'm okay, mom," Alessa says.

"I'm always going to be okay," she adds, gently rubbing our mom's back. She is comforting her, and I wonder whether my mom is more worried about her being in danger at the moment or the fact that she just heard her teenage daughter heartlessly shots up a human being.

No feeling of guilt whatsoever, her tone had been unfeeling, bored.

The patriarchs walk past us to the room, I follow them and so do the others, I notice Alessa has my mom's hand while Serena has her mother's.

I don't know what they feel.

I cannot imagine what it must be like for them to have their children in this life, more so that the said children seem to have a natural knack for it.

"I also would like to know what happened to his lip." uncle Raph says. I shift my head to look at him, and I don't miss the slight amusement in his eyes.

"Please, Raphel. Have some compassion for the boy. He looks so young." aunt Soph says. She is standing between her two children, her face looks wrecked, sad, and so do the faces of the other two women.

The patriarchs don't say much. I guess it was to avoid stressing their wives further.

They have protected them for much of their lives. Even though the women know what their men do for a living, I don't think they would like to know how much cruel these men could be. And we are turning just like them.

"Don't kill him. " uncle Raph says. I imagine it is so we can figure out who sent him.

"Let's go. We are having lunch with father Josè"

As we walk out of the building, I pick out cars lined up directly from the exit. This time we won't be walking to the parking lot. We each enter the car we drove in.

"I hope Romigi is behind this."

Lia states immediately she slides in beside me. I know why she wants Romigi to be responsible for this, it gives us the opening she's been waiting for to get rid of him since he voiced his opinion on child prostitution.

"That son of a bitch needs to go." She says bitterly, taking off her heels and kicking them out as if she held a grudge against them too.

"With you on that," I reply softly, looking at her bare feet. She had beautiful feet, they currently had white polish, the paint making them absolutely splendid.

"Can you help me unbotton the dress?" my eyes snap open, staring at her already turned back.

Was she nuts? We had company. I move my shocked face at Matteo and Dev who are as surprised as I am.

"Just the first three buttons, you bastards." she snaps at us.

"We are headed for lunch." I remind her.

"My memory works fine, Luc. You will button them back before getting out of the car."

"If you're hot, we can turn on the air conditioner,"  Dev suggests, clearing his throat, his eyes on Lia through the rear mirror.

"I'm not going to show any part of my body, Dev. It's just for a few minutes"

I don't wait for Dev's response. I start to unbutton the dress, skimming my hands through her soft skin. Her sharp intake of breath gets my dick twitching which I blame on sexual starvation.

I haven't had sex since I came back to Italy. And it feels like a billion years ago.

I want to lower my head to kiss her revealed soft skin, but I don't. Inwardly cursing Matteo and Dev, I lean back in my seat, closing my eyes to keep from gazing at Lia like a lovelorn boy.

"Are you okay, Luc?"

"Fuck you!" I tell Matteo without opening my eyes. He can tell what I'm going through, he knows exactly what thoughts are running through my mind.

The fucker.

Lia doesn't say a thing. I know she is wishing we are alone too. If we were, I would sit her on my lap, pull her dress almost to her waist, touch her between her legs knowing she would be wet for me, her breath on face, her hands around my neck, or helping me unfasten my trousers, her hands frantically trying to reach for my dick.

I groan, mercifully, not loudly. I pull out my thoughts before I can conjure up the image of me fucking her senselessly in this damn car which would probably have me cuming in my pants.

I try to imagine something else like the man Alessa shot. I wonder if he was sent by Romigi, frankly, I doubt it.

The man didn't strike me as stupid, greedy, yes, cunning, perhaps, untrustworthy, definitely, but not stupid.

He must know the repercussions of such an attack on our family even though it was barely an attack.

It was like a scratch. A minor message to the patriarchs, which I didn't understand.

Once we arrive at father Josè's small village church, Dev parks beside where my father's car was. I could see him speaking to two elder people—a man and a woman, my mom beside him. Her shoulders are hunched, her face a mask of fury.

I start to walk toward them, leaving Lia behind. Temporary forgetting I had wanted to senselessly fuck her. My mother seemed unhappy. Who the hell were these people?

Before I can reach them, Alessa catches up with me.

"Who the hell are those two?" she asks me. I don't reply, my throat is closed up because my brain suddenly gives me an idea.

"Eleonora, please." the woman says.

"Why? Why should I give you what you want when you never gave me anything but misery?" Our mother's angry voice sounds icy. I stand beside my father who doesn't say anything. Instead, he shifts, then pulls me to stand besides my mother taking his spot while Alessa stands on the other side of her.

"Oh, what beautiful children you have, Eleonora." The woman says. Maybe I should say her mother. She looks like her, a little, the wrinkles under her eyes showing her age, the sadness in them however is unnerving to see.

My mother doesn't say anything.

"You should have been Freddie's son if your mother hadn't been unfaithful." The man tells me, his gaze burning me up. He sounds as if I'm to blame. Ridiculous if you think about it.

I laugh.

And he glares at me. And glares.

"I would have killed myself the moment I found I carried Freddie's child."My mother says without emotion, her tone flat, unapologetic.

"You knew the kind of man he was when you sold me to him."

The man flushed. His face turns red with either embarrassment or anger. The woman stands, looking contrite. "So you turn our grandchildren against us?"

"The last time we spoke, you told me I was no longer your daughter. How then can they be your grandchildren? I asked you that same question too."

He huffed, "we have a right—"

"No you don't." my mother says and then she turns, holds my father's arm tightly and they leave. I'm left with Alessa who is curiously and openly staring at our grandparents.

"You look exactly like your mother except the..."

"The eyes. I know, I've been told that numerous times." Alessa shrugs then transfers her gaze to our grandfather.

"You're the one who bartered her out to a cruel narcissistic, crazy jerk, I hear." Alessa calmly asks. The man shoots up his head in surprise with a pinch of shock and irritation. My sister doesn't mince her words.

"It's the way things are done." he defends himself

"Not where we come from, they don't," I tell him. He moves his gaze to me. I'm taller, so he has to lift his head to look at me.

"How could anyone have thought you were Freddie 's son?"

"Beats me." I shrug. "We have to go. Our family is having lunch with a beloved family member."

He narrows his gaze. So much anger there.

"Why are you so damn angry? You made your choices, sold your daughter, that she hates you is one of the consequences of that choice."

"I did what had to be done."

"Then you can't blame her for doing what she had to do."

"Please, convince her to talk to us?"

"Why in the world should we do that?" Alessa hisses at our grandmother. You're as guilty as he is. You allowed it.

"I didn't have a choice. You're a girl, you will find out how hard it is some day."

Alessa scoffs.

"No. I will not." She takes a closer step to our grandmother. " I'll tell you what, I can take care of myself, I can make my own choices, I've been taught how to do that since I could recite the alphabet. "

"Easier said than done." our grandfather's smug satisfaction is more than annoying, but it feels good knowing how wrong he is.

"Oh yeah? Because I just shot both arms of a man who was about to kidnap us. I could have killed him, but I figured he owed us some answers." she says, turns to walk away, but then turns back again, "I forgot to mention he might never be able to use his arms again."

My grandfather's eyes widen. Alessa grins—a serene smile that makes her look young and innocent.

"I wasn't born to be anybody's punching bag. I'm my own fucking woman. I can do my own punch."

A pleasant smile curl my lips, impressed by my sister. Our grandparents stare after her, stunned. I could be wrong, but grandmother looks wistful.

"Tell your mother I'm sorry," she tells me. I blink at her. And I'm not sure how I feel about her, pity, maybe.

"I'm sorry I won't. You had more time to do so before today. You can still find a way to tell her yourself."

"She won't listen to me."

"I can't say I blame her." I mumble and walk away, leaving them standing there looking lost, the woman's shoulders sagging as if the weight of the world was perched on them.

The man is grim. Looking like he regrets nothing. As if he had nothing to apologize for.

"Tell her she did well with her children." her voice is faint, but I heard.