"Beat her dead! Don't you dare bully our mommy or take our daddy away!"
Stone after stone flew at us. I twisted to shield Valentina, but one rock caught her square on the forehead. Blood poured down instantly.
Valentina wailed, her small body shaking with sobs. The two brats grinned at the sight and scooped up more stones, throwing harder.
I turned and fixed them with a stare cold enough to freeze marrow. "Do you want to die?"
Both children flinched. They scrambled behind Dante, clutching his collar and whimpering.
"Daddy, that woman said she's going to kill us!"
Dante dropped to his knees at once, pulling them close, murmuring comfort. When he finally looked up at me, his brows were knotted with fury.
"Serafina, are you done making a scene?"
"Since the moment you set foot in this house, you've turned the whole place upside down. Take your daughter and get out of here!"
Valentina's forehead was split open. Blood ran down past her eye, tracing a thin red line along her cheek. Dante didn't spare her a single glance.
He only had arms for the two children in Gianna's brood.
I clenched my jaw so hard my teeth ached, clutched my daughter tight, and charged toward the banquet hall, screaming at the top of my lungs:
"A doctor! Is there a doctor here?!"
Dante's head snapped up. He lunged to stop me.
"Serafina! Who do you think you are, making a scene in front of the Family's physician?! Don't you dare!"
He clamped a hand over my mouth. His men grabbed for Valentina, trying to pry her from my arms and drag her away. She was already gasping between sobs, and now their hands smothered her mouth and nose. Her face went from red to a mottled purple.
I stopped thinking. I sank my teeth into Dante's hand until I tasted blood.
Then I broke free and ran, stumbling into the banquet hall where the Commission's guests sat with their drinks half-raised, locking onto that one familiar figure, and screamed:
"Marco Lombardi! You're the Family's doctor! Save my daughter!"
Marco spun around. His eyes went wide, shock and disbelief tangled together, and then something fierce and bright broke through. Joy. Raw, unguarded joy.
"You're alive?"
He rushed to me. His hands went to his sleeves, rolling them to the forearm with two precise folds, automatic, clinical. On the second fold, his fingers trembled. Then he reached for Valentina, pressing his hands to the wound to stanch the bleeding.