My Little Wolf

I jerked awake as a loud, echoing noise pierced through the quiet night, sounding unmistakably like a gunshot. Slowly and stiffly, I climbed out of bed, moving silently across the room and into the living room. I grimaced when I saw my dad lying sprawled across the floor in front of the couch. It wasn’t unusual for him to pass out drunk, but the pool of blood spreading under his head told me this was more serious than his usual drunken stupor.

I didn’t feel the rush of emotions most people would in this situation, maybe because our father-daughter relationship had always been non-existent. Instead, I numbly stepped closer to check if he was actually dead. The pool of blood and his wide, glassy eyes staring into nothing, confirmed it. I cursed aloud, muttering, “You ass, what am I supposed to do now?”

As soon as I finished, I realised I wasn’t alone. My gaze shifted to the front door, where three men were standing. They were clearly on their way out, but they’d stopped, either because they’d seen or heard me. The first thing I noticed was that they were all strikingly handsome, with a European look, maybe Spanish or Italian. The man in the middle, though shorter than the two behind him, was still over six feet tall and exuded authority, standing there with calm confidence. He was clearly the boss.

I glanced down and saw each of them holding a gun, which made my second thought, a much more sensible one, kick in. I was in immediate danger. I needed to get out, or I’d end up beside my dad on the filthy carpet. I looked around, but they were blocking the main exit, and the only other way out was a window in my dad’s bedroom behind me; all the others were bolted shut.

My eyes flickered back to the three men and the black guns in their hands, each pointed at me. We were at a stand-off. I opened my mouth to speak, then closed it again, unsure what words would help. The boss seemed to understand my hesitation and simply said, “Come.” When I didn’t move, he reinforced his command by gesturing with his gun, clearly indicating he wanted me closer. I shook my head, preferring the tense standoff. “Now,” he said, his voice deep and demanding. He sounded calm and commanding, nothing like my father, who’d always had to shout to get his way.

“If you’re going to kill me, can’t you just do it here?” I asked, surprised by how calm my voice sounded, though I didn’t feel calm at all. My right hand was twisting a loose strand of hair around my finger, my nervous habit betraying me.

“I’m not going to kill you, Lupacchiotta, but I can’t leave you here.”

“You can. I’ll forget you were here,” I said, twisting the strand of hair so tightly that I felt a sharp pull on my scalp.

He shook his head, his voice unwavering. “I am not leaving you here, Lupacchiotta. You’re coming with us.”

The finality in his tone sent a wave of panic through me, and I felt my hands and legs begin to tremble. I muttered under my breath, “Not a good time to have a panic attack, June. Come on, keep it together.” My cheeks flushed when I realised I’d said it loudly enough for them to hear. I bent forward, hands on my knees, breathing deeply like I’d learned in primary school.

“Cazzo,” the boss muttered under his breath. His irritated tone ignited something in me, and I snapped, “Sorry if my panic attack is an inconvenience, you could always just leave.” To my surprise, he chuckled, a low, husky laugh. I realised then that the two men behind him had stepped forward, blocking the doorway even more.

I straightened, grimacing as my back protested, and my hand returned to the loose strand of hair, twisting it tighter as my anxiety spiked. I tried to edge a little to the right, putting more distance between us, but my foot slipped in my dad’s blood. I gasped, lunging forward to grab the couch, but I lost my balance and crashed down to my knees, my right arm landing on my dad’s chest while my left hand splashed into the blood pooling on the floor. I grimaced at my blood-covered hand, muttering, “Good thing I’m not squeamish.”

I looked back at the boss, who was chuckling softly again. I struggled to my feet, backing away slowly, my breaths coming faster as I tried to keep control. “I’d really like it if you’d just leave me here. Please,” I whispered, desperation edging my voice. He only shook his head, and as he did, his men took another step closer.