Chapter 2 - The Silent Angel
Leo dropped to his knees at the top of the dark stairs, plunging into the damp cellar without a second thought. I followed right behind him, ignoring the burning agony in my split cheek and battered ribs.
At the bottom of the stone steps, tucked into a tiny corner behind dusty wine racks, lay four-year-old Lily.
Her small face was blue, her tiny hands clutching her chest as her little lungs desperately struggled for air that wouldn't come. Her purple inhaler sat crushed on the stone floor twenty feet away—where Victoria had stepped on it before throwing her down.
"Lily!" Leo roared, pulling his daughter into his arms. The ruthless mafia boss—a man who had brought entire empires to their knees—was shaking uncontrollably as he cradled her small frame against his chest. "Lily, look at daddy! Look at me!"
She couldn't respond. Her eyes were rolling back, her breathing reduced to a microscopic, terrifying gasp.
"Move!" I screamed, my protective motherly instincts overriding every shred of fear I had for the man.
I fell to my knees beside Leo, reaching into my apron pocket. I pulled out a spare inhaler—the duplicate I had hidden in my uniform three weeks ago because I knew Lily’s propensity for losing things.
With trembling hands, I placed the spacer over Lily's mouth and pressed the medicine down twice. "Breathe, baby," I wept, gently pumping her small chest. "Breathe for Clara. Please, Lily!"
For three agonizing seconds, time stopped.
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Then, a sharp, gasping cough broke through the darkness. Lily’s chest expanded, taking in a massive, shuddering breath of air. Tears flooded her eyes as she recognized my face through the gloom. "Clara..." she whimpered, her tiny arms reaching around my neck instead of her father's. "Clara... you stayed."
I held her tightly, sobbing into her soft brown hair, while Leo watched us with an intensity that burned brighter than fire.
