I SAT DOWN AS FOUR FATHERLESS SISTERS' FAKE DAD FOR A SCHOOL LUNCH - THEN THEIR WAITRESS MOTHER REVEALED WHY MY ENEMIES WERE WATCHING

Ten minutes later, my sedan tore through the outer edge of the industrial district, far away from the neighborhood diner and the blood-stained apartment stairwell.

In the back seat, the four sisters were squeezed together. The youngest, four-year-old Sofia, was fast asleep, her head resting on her sister Maya’s lap. Chloe, the oldest, sat near the window, staring out at the rain with her arms crossed tight against her chest. Elena, the eight-year-old, was holding a small stuffed rabbit, silently crying against Rosa’s shoulder.

Rosa sat in the front passenger seat, her head turned back to comfort her daughters, her hand resting firmly on the center console near mine.

"Where are you taking us, Victor?" Rosa asked quietly, her voice devoid of panic now, replaced by a weary acceptance.

"To a place Falcone doesn't know exists," I said, keeping my eyes on the rearview mirror to ensure we hadn't been picked up by a tail. "A warehouse I purchased under a shell company six years ago when I was preparing my exit from the syndicate."

"Is it safe?" Chloe asked from the back. Her voice was sharp, perceptive, far too old for a nine-year-old.

I looked at her through the mirror. "It has three-foot-thick reinforced concrete walls, bulletproof steel shutters, an independent generator, and enough supplies to last three months. No one gets in unless I open the door."

"Are you going to shoot more people?" Maya asked innocently, her wide brown eyes locked onto mine.

My heart squeezed tight in my chest. A deep, agonizing shame washed over me. These girls had seen me as a gentle stranger at a school lunch—a quiet man who showed up when no one else would. Now, they had seen me smash a man's arm and fire a gun in their living room.

"Maya," Rosa warned softly, but I held up a hand.

"I hope I never have to shoot anyone again, Maya," I said directly, my voice gentle despite the roughness of my throat. "I brought a gun tonight because bad men wanted to hurt you. But my job isn't to fight. My job is to make sure you four can grow up without being afraid."

Chloe looked out the window, a small, subtle softening appearing in her rigid posture. "You hit that man really hard," she whispered. "He hit my sister first."

"Nobody hits your sisters," I said firmly. "Not while I'm breathing."

Twenty minutes later, the sedan pulled into an alley behind an abandoned textile mill near the river. I pressed an encrypted remote on my visor, and a heavy steel roll-up door lifted silently, revealing a subterranean garage lit by warm overhead LEDs.

As the heavy steel door lowered behind us, sealing us off from the city, the girls climbed out of the car, looking around the space in wide-eyed wonder.

The warehouse wasn't a cold, dingy bunker. Over the past two years, I had quietly furnished the upper loft: hardwood floors, soft leather couches, a full kitchen, three bedrooms, and shelves filled with books and board games. It was meant to be my lonely retirement hideout.

Now, it was a sanctuary for five people I had promised to protect.

"It's like a secret cave," Elena murmured, wiping her tear-stained cheeks as she looked up at the loft stairs.

"It's home for now," I said, handing Rosa a set of electronic security keys. "There are clean clothes in the bedrooms upstairs. Get the girls fed and tucked in."

Rosa took the keys, her fingers brushing against mine. She looked at me, her dark eyes shining with an overwhelming weight of unspoken emotions.

"And where are you going, Victor?" she asked softly.