Chapter 3 - Breathing for Lily
The deadbolt groaned.
The cellar door opened.
Cold air rolled into the kitchen like a ghost.
Leo went down first. Beatrice followed him, though her knees screamed and her bruised fingers throbbed so badly she thought she might vomit.
She slapped the light switch with the side of her fist. The bulbs flickered.
At the bottom of the stone steps, Lily Rossi lay curled on her side, tiny and still, her stuffed rabbit clutched to her chest. Her lips had a faint blue tint. Her dark hair spilled across the freezing floor.
Leo made a sound Beatrice would remember for the rest of her life.
It was not the sound of a crime boss. It was the sound of a father being ripped apart.
“Lily.”
He dropped to his knees, gathering his daughter into his arms with hands that shook violently despite all the terrible things they had done in his life.
He pressed his cheek to her forehead. “Princess, no. No, you stay with me. You hear me? You stay with me.”
Beatrice stumbled down the last steps and fell beside them. The impact sent pain up both her legs, but she shoved it away.
She had been shoved aside all her life. She would not be shoved aside now.
“Lay her flat,” she said.
Leo looked at her as if he did not understand English.
“Mr. Rossi, lay her flat. Tip her head back. Open her airway.”
Something in her voice cut through the terror. Leo obeyed.
Beatrice pressed two fingers to Lily’s neck. Faint pulse. Weak, but there.
She leaned close, listening for breath. A shallow rasp fluttered in the child’s throat like a trapped moth.
“She’s still here,” Beatrice said. “She’s still here.”
Footsteps thundered above them. Mateo appeared with the pink inhaler case.
Beatrice took it, snapped it open with trembling hands, and held the inhaler to Lily’s lips.
“Come on, baby,” she whispered. "You know how to do this. Breathe for me.”
She pressed once. Nothing.
She pressed again.
Leo’s hand hovered over his daughter’s chest, useless for the first time in his powerful life.
For three seconds, the world held still.
Then Lily jerked.
A ragged wheeze tore out of her. Her small body convulsed with a terrible cough, and her eyes opened wide, blind with panic.
“Daddy!”
Leo scooped her up so fast Beatrice barely saw him move.
“I’m here,” he said, holding Lily against his chest. “I’m here, baby. Papa’s here.”
Lily’s gaze drifted over his shoulder. Her little hand stretched weakly toward Beatrice.
“Bee,” she whimpered.
Beatrice leaned forward, her own tears falling hot and silent.
“I’m right here, sweet girl. You’re safe now.”
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But in the kitchen above them, Victoria began to cry.
Not from guilt. From fear.
