Mother’s Love
The morning air was sharp and cold, cutting through the thin fabric of Lucy's coat as she stepped out of the hospital. She wrapped her arms tighter around the small bundle she carried—her toddler daughter, fragile and pale, her breath shallow but steady. The child's dark eyes fluttered open briefly, searching the world beyond the sterile walls they had just left behind.
Lucy's heart tightened with every uneven breath her daughter took. The rare genetic disorder that shadowed their family was a relentless enemy. Doctors spoke of mutations and anomalies, but Lucy knew it was something deeper and darker—a curse woven into the blood that ran through their veins, a secret whispered in the corners of the city.
Her fingers trembled as she adjusted the thin shawl around her daughter's shoulders. The chill seeped through the fabric, but Lucy refused to let the child shiver. Not now. Not ever.
The weight of exhaustion pressed down on her. Days and nights blurred together in a haze of hospital visits, medication schedules, and desperate prayers. Every moment was a battle to steal time from the shadow that loomed over her daughter's fragile life.
A sharp vibration in her pocket startled her. She pulled out her phone with shaking hands. A message glared from an unknown number:
"Auction tonight. Your debts must be settled. No exceptions."
The words burned into her mind. The Santoro family. The name was a poison whispered in the city's underworld, a force both feared and respected. Ruthless. Unyielding. And now, they had their eyes on her.
Lucy swallowed hard, her gaze falling to her daughter's wrist. Beneath the skin, a faint, shimmering mark glowed softly—a symbol no one else could see, but one that made her daughter a valuable but dangerous target.
Her mind raced. She had fought for every breath her daughter took, every stolen day from death's grasp. But this fight was different. This was a battle for their freedom.
---
The city around her was waking, but Lucy felt trapped in a world closing in. The streets were wet with rain, the sky a dull gray that pressed down like a weight. She moved quickly, avoiding the glances of strangers and the shadows that seemed to lurk at every corner.
Memories flooded in her mind—moments from a life that felt distant now. The night she found out she was pregnant, the boy she thought she loved, the promises that faded like smoke. She had been proud, independent, and certain of her path. But everything had changed.
Her phone buzzed again. Another message, colder this time:
"You have until tonight. Don't make us come looking for you."
Fear twisted in her stomach, but despite that, something else burned fiercer—determination. She would not let them take her daughter. She was determined to put up a good fight.
---
Lucy's steps slowed as she reached a small park bench. She sat down, cradling her daughter close. The child's breathing was uneven but steady. Lucy brushed a stray curl from her daughter's forehead, whispering, "We'll get through this. I promise."
Around them, the city moved on, indifferent to their struggle. A distant siren wailed, a dog barked, and footsteps echoed. Lucy closed her eyes, drawing strength from the quiet moments.
Her thoughts drifted to Enzo—the boy from her past, the man she had loved and lost. His voice echoed in her memory, soft and urgent: "I'll always love and protect you." But he was gone now, lost to the tangled web of family and loyalty she could no longer reach.
---
The afternoon passed in a blur. Lucy moved through the city's maze, avoiding debt collectors and dangerous men who whispered threats in dark alleys. Each encounter chipped away at her hope, but she held on.
At a small café, she paused to catch her breath. The scent of coffee and baked bread filled the air, a brief comfort in the storm. She watched mothers with healthy children, and families laughing—scenes that felt like another life to her.
Her phone buzzed again. This time, a location and a time: "Tonight. The auction house."
Lucy's stomach churned. The auction house was a place she had heard of only in rumors—a shadowy den where lives and secrets were bought and sold. She had no choice.
---
As evening fell, Lucy stood before the auction house's unmarked door. The building was old, its stone facade worn by time and secrets. The muffled sounds of voices and laughter drifted through the heavy walls.
She took a deep breath, steadying herself. Her daughter stirred in her arms, her small fingers curling around her coat. Lucy whispered, "Stay strong, my love. We're almost through."
A man in a dark suit opened the door, his eyes cold and unreadable. He nodded once, motioning her inside.
The air inside was thick with cigar smoke, the fragrance of expensive colognes, and tension. Men and women in luxury clothes moved like shadows, their faces masks of calculation. The room buzzed with whispered deals and the clink of glasses.
Lucy's heart pounded as she was led through the crowd, every eye was on her and her daughter. She felt exposed, vulnerable—but beneath that, a spark of defiance.
At the center of the room, a figure stood watching. His dark eyes scanned the crowd with a predator's focus. Lucy's breath caught.
She did not yet know his name. But she would soon.
The heavy doors closed behind her with a finality that echoed in her bones. Somewhere in the darkness, a voice whispered promises and threats, a warning that her travails had just begun.