Page 38 of Second Chance Daddy
I hear the shot. The man’s head snaps back. He crumples to the floor like a puppet with cut strings.
My mother makes a sound—half-gasp, half-sob—and turns away. But I don’t. Ican’t. I’m frozen, staring at the eyes that don’t blink anymore.
All I see is blood—the way it pools fast under a body, the way it stains tile permanently, the way my mother’s eyes—wet and hollow—lock onto mine. Then, she screams. Roars like a lioness.Rushes to my father, grabs him by his collar. Reminds him that she had begged him not to kill that man in front of me.
My father pushes her aside like she’s nothing and no one.
My father forgot what it meant to raise a ten-year-old. Thought I was Rocky Balboa training for the final round, and he was Mickey with a goddamn death wish.
The problem is you beat a kid into a fighter; all he knows how to do is swing.
And my mother? Despite being mafia royalty, she spent her life ducking blows that weren’t meant for her, but landed anyway. She was a soft woman, always has been. She loved art, music, and dancing. My father caught her teaching me to cook once. I still remember the rage in his voice.
She was collateral damage. The cautionary tale. The woman with a bruised pride who kissed my scraped knuckles after every fight, like love could wash the violence off me. Who told me to close my eyes when my father killed a man in front of us, like that would make the screams go away.
For years, she shrank under his shadow, breaking into smaller, softer pieces, hoping he wouldn’t notice. But monsters always notice.
Fucking memories. They’re like landmines—buried deep, forgotten until one gets stepped on andboom. Everything explodes.
And now…
Now I look at Cassie. At that little girl. Christ, that kid—those blue-gray eyes. Like mirrors. Like fate sucker-punched me in the ribs and told me to pay attention.
I swear to God—I’ll torch this whole fucking world before I let history repeat itself. That little girl? She shouldn’t grow up calling a piece of shit like Gino “daddy.” That stain on humanity parading around like he’s earned the title. I know men like him—the scars they leave behind, the damage they wire into a kid’s bloodstream.
She deserves more than that. Deserves the kind of father who guards her like a goddamn vault, not some asshole who hides behind threats and dirty money. A kid like Aria? She gets the world handed to her. I’ll fight anyone who stands in the way of that.
Aria and Cassie deserve better.
I drag a hand through my hair, trying to exorcise them from my mind. But they stick. Cassie has always stuck.
Sitting still? Not an option.
Not with her words still ricocheting through my skull.
It’s just threats. It’s probably nothing. I’ve handled it for three years…
Bull-fucking-shit.
The tremor in her voice? The way her eyes darted to the door, like the walls were closing in? That level of fear can’t be faked.
She thinks I’m going to sit back and pretend everything’s fine because she said so?
Not happening.
I shove my jacket on, keys in hand, before I’ve even made the decision. The streets outside are dead quiet, but under the surface? Monsters always lurk.
Not tonight.
I’m going to make damn sure none of them are following her. None of them gets within a mile of that house. Cassie thinks I’m walking away? Cute.
She doesn’t know me as well as she thinks. Or at all.
I slide behind the wheel, engine low and steady as I roll through town. Streetlights flicker, store windows glow faintly behind locked doors, but my eyes? They’re zeroed in on one thing.
Cassie’s street.
It’s tucked back in the sleepy part of town—the part where people leave their bikes unlocked on porches because they believe in the good in people.
