The Mafia Don And The Nurse

Alora's POV

The sun's rays streamed through the kitchen window, casting a bright glow around the room.

I was preparing a cup of coffee.The coffee was steaming hot, just how I like it. I sat in my favorite chair, relaxing and enjoying the moment of calm after a long day shift at the hospital.

It had been a while since I enjoyed myself and had a good rest after work, and I was definitely taking advantage of today to do just that.

In times like these I always appreciate the quietness and loneliness of my environment.

I lived on the outskirts of the city. Although quite lonely sometimes, I had grown accustomed to it since I was raised here. And the loneliness always seemed to fade when I immersed myself in my numerous books.

However, the fates seemed to have a vendetta against me today as the sharp and unmistakable sounds of gunshots pierced through the silent atmosphere.

Instinctively, my legs dropped to the floor, as I sought refuge underneath the table. My heart raced, the banging heartbeat hitting my ears with each shot.

Realizing that the sound was coming from a little distance, I stood up and moved to the window, peering out towards the direction.

Even from afar, the sight caused a shiver to course through me. Smoke curled in the distance, creating a dark plume against the bright blue sky.

A moment of indecision gripped me. As a nurse, my instinct was to help—treat the wounded, save lives. But with every sound of gunfire, a rational part of me screamed to stay inside, to lock the door and pretend I hadn’t heard anything.

Rushing towards my phone, my fingers trembled over the keypad as I dialed the emergency number. But all I heard was two resounding beeps–no signal.

Finally coming to a decision, I left every iota of wisdom behind as I stepped out of my house and into the cold winter night.

It took me only about 10 minutes to arrive at the scene, in my small beat up car, because I needed to have an escape route. I wasn't stupid enough to walk and risk getting trapped.

The sight that greeted me outside was distressing. The smell of smoke and blood hit my nostrils. A wave of nausea rushed over me, and I swallowed hard, fighting the bitter taste of bile.

Dead bodies.

Burning cars.

Just what in the world had happened here? I wondered, my eyes slowly glancing at the horrifying sight around me.

Regaining my senses, I turned to leave and let the police handle this whenever the signal returned.

Suddenly, a soft cry broke through the silence. I halted in my seat, hands on the steering wheel as I perked open my ears to confirm that I wasn't hallucinating.

Affirming that I wasn't, I heard it again. It sounded like the cry of a young person. The sound was raw and filled with desperation, igniting a fire inside me.

Without hesitating, I grabbed my jacket and bolted out of the car, not even registering the harshness of the cold as it hit my skin.

The scene that greeted me was more horrifying than what I'd seen when I was in the car. Bodies littered the road, the pavement, and others sprawled near the burning cars. I fought once more against the bile rising in my throat and searched for the source of the cry.

That’s when I saw him—a small boy, no older than seven, lying underneath a big burly man in a black suit. The sight resembled a mother hen shielding its chicks.

The man was motionless, and immediately I turned his body around, I knew he was a goner.

“Help me!” the little boy screamed, just as I rushed to his side. I knelt beside him, my hands trembling as I hastily examined him.

Blood soaked his shirt, which looked like a school uniform, and he let out a pained groan as he struggled to stay awake.

“Stay with me,” I whispered, trying to keep my voice calm. “What’s your name?”

“Gianni,” he managed to say, his voice weak and shaky. Hurrying back to my car, I took out the first aid kit and got to work.

“Where are your parents, Gianni?” I demanded softly, in a bid to keep him conscious.

“They’re gone,” he murmured, tears streaming down his cheeks. “ But he’s coming.”

“Who’s coming?” I asked, my heart thumping loudly, as I let out a silent prayer that it shouldn't be a bad person.

He didn't respond, but I noticed his body had gotten heavier and limp in my arms. He was unconscious.

“No, no, no!” I murmured, shaking him gently. “Stay with me!”

Suddenly, there was a commotion in the distance. The sounds of shouting and gunfire resurfacing.

I sprang to my feet, carrying Gianni with me. I couldn’t leave him here, not like this.

My gaze lingered on the lifeless bodies, a pang of sorrow twisting in my chest.

Cradling his tiny body against my chest, I hurried back into my car and drove full speed toward my house.

Once I got home, I alighted from the vehicle and picked him up, rushing towards the front door.

My hands shook as I laid him on the couch, hurrying back to lock the door.

“Stay with me, Gianni,” I urged, pressing my fingers to his wrist to check for a pulse.

My tense shoulders relaxed as I felt his steady heartbeat.

Drowning out the jarring sounds of gunshots in the distance, I got my equipment and got to work, thankful to God that my dad had constructed the house with a small clinic.

About two hours later, the darkness of the night had fallen and the environment had gotten quiet once more. Seeing it as the perfect time to call the emergency services, I grabbed my phone, checking the signal.

Unlocking it, a frustrated sigh escaped my lips as the signal had not returned.

A loud rumble startled me and I jumped to my feet, only then realizing that it was my stomach. I hadn't eaten anything yet.

Quickly, I moved towards the fridge, taking out ingredients to make something for the little boy and myself. Already feeling drained, I opted for an easy-to-prepare dish. Pancakes.

Admiring the delicious dish before me, I took my seat at the table.

Suddenly, a loud banging resounded from the door, startling me. My heart dropped as a voice called out, “Open the door.”