Chapter Text
Third Person POV
Mexico, 10:36 AM
It had been six years since Aleksander Antonov, the eldest of the Antonov siblings, left the country to safeguard his family. He abandoned his position as a Mafia Don the moment his daughter was born. Since then, one of his sisters had taken over the family position.
For six years, his family had lived in relative peace. No threats. No lingering dangers. Or so they thought.
"Papa, where are we going?" little Kit asked, her small hands clutching her backpack
Aleksander smiled down at her. Today was supposed to be a normal day for them. A promise he had made to his daughter, a rare moment of normalcy in a life surrounded by shadows.
"Go inside the car na, Kit" Aleksander said, guiding her gently toward the waiting vehicle.
"Hon, let's go" he called to his wife, Elara Moretti, who appeared from the house carrying a small bag.
But what the family didn't know was that today was far from normal. Today, their enemies would finally strike. Today, they would attempt to wipe out the entire Antonov family.
Aleksander started the engine, Kit bounced in her seat, her little fingers tapping the window as the city blurred past.
"Papa, are we going somewhere fun?" she asked again, her eyes wide with excitement.
Aleksander smiled down at her. "Yes, baby. Like I promised."
Kit nodded, completely trusting her father. She had no idea that the world she knew was about to shatter.
Across the street, unnoticed by them, a black SUV followed quietly. Its was silent, its windows tinted too dark for anyone to see inside. Aleksander had thought they were safe. Six years abroad, careful routes, false identities, it had worked. Until now.
Aleksander's eyes flicked to the rearview mirror. His heart skipped a beat. The enemy had found them. They had followed them across borders, waiting for a single lapse.
Elara, sensing the tension in her husband, held Kit's hand a little tighter. "Aleks, I think we should..." she started, but he shook his head.
"No. We keep going. Don't panic. Not yet." Aleksander's voice was firm. Calm, but beneath it, his blood was boiling.
A sudden flash of metal caught Aleksander's eye. A motorbike had pulled up alongside the car. Two masked figures leaned out, guns raised.
"HOLD ON!" Aleksander shouted, swerving the car sharply. Kit screamed, clutching her unicorn backpack like a lifeline.
Elara screamed too, but Aleksander's focus was absolute. He knew the streets better than anyone. He had trained for moments like this.
Gunfire cracked. Bullets pinged off the car's metal frame. Aleksander's hands were steady, his mind calculating escape routes, alternate paths, probability of survival—all while keeping his daughter and wife alive.
"Papa, I'm scared!" Kit cried, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"I know, baby. I know. But hold Mama's hand. Don't let go, okay."
"Hon, go to the backseat and keep Kit safe please."
They swerved into a narrow alley, tires screeching, engine roaring. Another car blocked their path. Aleksander cursed under his breath. The ambush was perfect. Too perfect.
A gunshot shattered the rearview mirror. Aleksander felt the impact on the side of the car—a sharp jolt, pain shooting through his arm. Kit screamed, hugging her mother's side instinctively.
"No!" Aleksander shouted, slamming the wheel to the right.
The car skidded onto a side street. The masked men chased, but Aleksander knew the city like the back of his hand. He ducked into a tunnel, engine roaring, tires sparking on the rough concrete.
Kit sobbed softly, clutching her mother. "Mama... Papa..."
Aleksander's jaw tightened. "Shhh... it's okay. I won't let anything happen to the both of you. I swear."
But deep down, he knew the truth. The enemy didn't just want him, they wanted his family. And today, they had no mercy.
A sudden explosion rocked the street behind them. Aleksander's car lurched forward, hitting a wall of debris. Glass shattered everywhere. Kit screamed again, this time louder, piercing Aleksander's heart.
He slammed the brakes, swerving onto another street. His mind raced. The city was chaos. Sirens wailed in the distance, but no help was coming, not for them. Not now.
"Papa... I'm scared!" Kit's small voice trembled.
Aleksander gritted his teeth. "I know, baby. I know. But don't worry... we'll get through this. I promise."
But the promise felt hollow. The ambush had been too precise. Too well-planned.
Then, a second explosion, closer this time. Aleksander felt the car tilt, metal crunching. Elara screamed. Aleksander's mind raced. They had to get out, now.
He yanked the door open. "Elara! Kit! Get out, NOW!"
Before anyone could react, masked men surrounded them. Aleksander fought back, Elara clutched Kit, trying to shield her, but the chaos was overwhelming.
A gunshot echoed closer this time. Aleksander's body jolted as he felt impact.
Pain.
Then darkness.
Kit's scream was the last thing he heard before the world went black.
❀ ❀ ❀
Philippines, 01:36 AM
A sudden phone call woke the Antonov household. An international call. Who dares call at this hour? No calls were entertained past eight, ever. So why now?
Catarina Antonov swung her legs off the bed and grabbed the phone, her grip tight, nails pressing into the receiver. She hated phone calls at night this had better be important.
"Catarina Antonov speaking..." she said, voice sharp.
"Ms. Antonov, it's me Arman."
Catarina froze. Arman. Her brother's personal bodyguard.
"Did something happen?" she asked, her heart starting to race.
"Arman, it's been what... six years? Why are you calling at this hour? Alam mo naman na—"
She was cut off.
"Aleksander and his family were ambushed earlier." Arman's voice was steady, but Catarina could hear the weight behind each word.
She blinked. Heart dropping. "Wha—what do you mean?"
"Your brother and his wife... didn't survive. Pero yung bata... buhay."
The words hit her like a punch to the gut. The room tilted. Her hands gripped the phone so hard, her knuckles turned white.
She couldn't move. She couldn't speak.
"K-Kit..." she whispered, voice trembling.
Arman continued, calm but firm. "I've secured her. She's safe. Pero kailangan niyo na siyang kunin agad, baka balikan pa siya ng mga pumatay sa mga magulang niya."
Catarina's chest heaved. The little girl, her niece, is alive. The anger, the grief, the guilt all rushed in at once.
She hung up, slammed the phone on the table, and went out to her room and called one of the guards. Her voice, low but commanding, carried the weight of the Antonov name.
"Get everyone."
To be continued...