Natalia

 

I was still standing in the middle of the trashed dining room, lost in thought and unsure of where even to begin, when the door flew open and three men I’d never seen before poured inside.

 

I whipped my head around to ask who they were, but I didn’t even have a chance to get the words out of my mouth before one of them had picked me up by my arms and slammed me into the wall.

 

“Where’s your daddy?” he hissed.

 

I hated the nasty smell of his breath and the unshaven hairs lingering around his mouth. His eyes were a dull brown, brimming with violence. Over his shoulder, I saw the other two men stepping over the broken tables and chairs on their way towards the office and kitchen. “I-I don’t know,” I stuttered, too frightened to make sense.

 

The man snarled, unsatisfied with my answer, and casually tossed me into the leather seat of the booth next to us. He raised his arm to point at me with the hammer he held clutched in his hand. “Stay there,” he ordered. “Don’t fucking move.”

 

I nodded. Fear had taken me over. I was nothing more than a pile of reactions. It was beyond my control to find words or form thoughts. All I could do was obey.

 

The man turned and followed his partners towards the back. I heard the sounds of struggling and their voices raised as they kicked open the door of Daddy’s office. He tried to yell, but the quick smack of a fist silenced him immediately.

 

Their suits and grease-slicked hair identified the men immediately as Espositos, though they weren’t the same ones as the two men who usually came to collect money from us. One voice I recognized with a sudden lurch. It was the one who’d been talking to my father late at night on the same day I found the body in the dumpster. His words were short and clipped as he said coldly, “What’d you do, Antonio?”

 

“What are you talking about?” Daddy began. “I didn’t do any—”

 

“Hit him,” the man interrupted.

 

One of the others must have followed orders, because I heard Daddy utter a pained grunt as a meaty slap resounded down the hallway. I didn’t dare move. I was too frozen by fear and the animal instinct to do what I was told.

 

The first man continued, “You’ve been helping The Punishers for a long time. Did you think we wouldn’t find out?”

 

“I swear, you’re wrong.” I’d never heard Daddy sound so pitiful.

 

“Hit him again,” the man ordered. More thumps and moans broke out. The hallway amplified everything tenfold, making the grotesque sounds of the beating echo towards me that much louder and more vilely.

 

“Marco Esposito has been getting very sick of your shit. You never pay on time, you never pay enough, and now we find out you’ve been helping our enemies? That was a very bad idea, I’m afraid.” The man’s voice was icy.

 

“Please, God,” my father begged. “I can make it up to you, I promise.”

 

The man answered doubtfully, “I don’t think you can, Antonio. Look at this piece of shit restaurant you run. You don’t make any fucking money. How are you going to pay up?”

 

“I…I’ll find a way, I will, I swear. We’ll, um, we’ll extend our hours, or, or…” He trailed off, unable to come up with anything convincing.

 

The man tutted. “I don’t think so. If you could make money, you’d have done it a long time ago. There’s not enough cash in this whole damn business for you to buy your life back.”

 

“There must be something,” he moaned. “Please, just tell me how.”

 

“I don’t know, Antonio. I just don’t know.”

 

Another of the men spoke up. “Cosimo, what about the girl?”

 

My heart plummeted. They were talking about me.

 

“Hmm,” said the first men. That must be Cosimo. “That’s a good idea, Bruno. That’s a very good idea. Go get her.”

 

I heard the thumping footsteps as one of the men came back from the hallway. He was headed for me. Fight or flight reactions took over, finally breaking through my immobility. I leaped up and started to sprint for the doorway. I almost made it out before a hand snaked around my waist and snagged me off the ground.

 

“Now, now, princess, can’t be running away. That’s not nice,” the man murmured in my ear. He smelled disgusting. I kicked and writhed in his arms, but despite being short and wiry, he was surprisingly strong. I couldn’t get away.

 

He carried me back down the hallway and dropped me to my feet in front of him, keeping his hands pinned on my shoulders and pressing me into the ground.

 

Daddy was slumped against the wall, seated on the ground. The man with the hammer stood over him, keeping the tool resting gently on top of my father’s head. Leaning against the wall on the other side was the man who had been doing all the talking. Cosimo, they’d called him.

 

He was of average height and build. His skin was perfectly unblemished, hair slicked straight back and glistening with grease. He studied me carefully with his pale eyes. They weren’t intelligent as much as they were cunning. Ruthless, even. Hungry, though for what, I couldn’t be sure.

 

I could feel Bruno shifting around behind me. His nauseating smell still rolled around the confined space we were standing in. I wrinkled my nose, but I couldn’t peel my eyes away from Cosimo.

 

He squatted in front of me, looking at me at eye level. “What’s your name, little girl?” he asked me softly.

 

“Natalia,” I told him. My voice was coming out shaky and timid.

 

“Cosimo, please don’t touch her,” my father gasped.

 

He didn’t blink or look away even for a moment. He flicked a finger towards Daddy. The man standing over him reached down, picked up his hand, and pinned it against the wall, fingers splayed along the plaster. Two quick strikes of the hammer left my father gibbering in pain, his hand clutched against his chest. I flinched at the sound of the weapon landing on fragile bone.

 

“Natalia. What a pretty name,” Cosimo murmured. His words were nice but beneath them there was something I hated. He was slimy, conniving, a snake in a human’s body. “How old are you, Natalia?”

 

“I’m thirteen,” I answered.

 

He hummed and nodded. “Almost a woman, then.”

 

I didn’t answer.

 

“Tell me, Natalia,” he continued, “do you know what it means to be a traitor?” I despised the way he said my name. When it came from his lips, it was almost like an insult. I couldn’t help but think of the way Nicholas had said it that day in the alley. That was the polar opposite. Out of Nicholas’s mouth, it was almost like a blessing.

 

But I knew this man had a lot of power over what happened to Daddy and me. I had to do what he wanted. I nodded my head.

 

“Why don’t you tell me what it means?” he prodded.

 

I swallowed hard. “It means someone who betrays their friend.”

 

Cosimo rocked back on his heels, looking pleased. “Very good. That’s exactly what it is.”

 

“But Daddy’s not a traitor!” I yelped, unable to stop myself.

 

He looked sad. Over my shoulder, I could hear Daddy still whimpering and rolling around on the ground. “Unfortunately, he is,” Cosimo said. He reached forward and placed his hands gently on my shoulders, replacing Bruno’s. “Your daddy betrayed us,” he continued as he looked straight at me. “And now he’s going to have to pay the price.”

 

Rising to his feet, he spun me around so my back rested against his knees and we both faced my father. “Sit up, Antonio,” Cosimo said in a quiet voice. I watched in horror as Daddy struggled to a seat, his face twisted into a grimace of agony. I had a growing fear that something terrible was about to happen. Something I’d never forget.

 

I felt Cosimo lean down behind me to whisper in my ear. “I want you to watch very closely, Natalia. This is what happens to traitors like your father. Now, cover your ears.”

 

I clapped my hands over my ears. The world went silent. Everything was shapes and motion, no sound. A flash. Gunfire. A spray of blood. Some droplets landing wet and sticky on my face. Daddy’s chest exploding. Two more flashes. Then it was all over.

 

I didn’t even notice I was crying.

 

Cosimo’s fingers wrapped around my wrists and peeled my hands away, lowering them gently to my sides. “There, there,” he said, wiping tears away from my face. “It’s all over. That’s the end of it. Well,” he paused, correcting himself, “the end for him, at least. You’re coming with us.”

 

And that was how my new life began.