My father strolled in, his Kevlar vest strapped to his chest and a P-90 in his hands. Alessandro was a step behind him, sweat on his brow and blood in his hair. “Moya doch’.” He pushed his way to me and wrapped me in a tight embrace. His body shook—with fear or adrenaline, I had no idea—but when I stepped back, he hugged me tighter, not letting me go. “Otets, ya v poryadke,” Father, I’m fine, I whispered reassuringly, but he just squeezed me tighter. I sighed, letting him nearly squish me to death. Finally, he let me go, the briefest glimpse of tears in his eyes before he schooled his features
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Stop it, he was terified he would find her dead like her mother😫❤️🩹
