The Sound of Glass Shattering

The Sound of Glass Shattering
Kaiden

The explosion hits before I even register the sound. One second, the yard is full of laughter and champagne bubbles, the next—white light and fire swallow the world. The force rips through the garden like a hurricane, glass and wood splintering, people screaming. For half a heartbeat, I can’t tell which way is up. The ground shakes beneath my feet, heat biting the air, the taste of ash already thick on my tongue. Hunter’s beside me before I even move, his arm coming up out of instinct, shielding us from flying debris. Half the house is gone. Just gone. Flames licking up what used to be the kitchen, confetti still drifting through the smoke like some sick, mocking joke. People are crying. Some aren’t moving. And then I hear children screaming.
My instincts lock into place. “The kids!”
A cluster of them is still out near the tables, wide-eyed and frozen. My body moves before my brain can catch up. I sprint toward them, dodging shards of glass and burning debris. The air crackles hot against my skin.
“Down!” I shout. “Everyone, down!”
Hunter’s right behind me, scooping up little Rosa just as another explosion rips through the far side of the yard. She screams, clinging to him, tiny fists twisted in his shirt. He drags her under a table, shielding her with his body as another burst of debris showers the ground. I start pulling at chairs, shoving tables aside, trying to create some kind of barrier. Kids are crying, calling for their parents. My father is suddenly beside me, his expression carved from steel, barking orders in Italian. “Get them under! Go, go!”

Luciano bursts through the smoke a second later, his suit torn, blood running down one side of his face, but he’s moving, fast. Together, we start hauling anything solid we can find, flipping tables, dragging terrified kids underneath, creating a crude shelter.
“Stay down,” I tell them, my voice shaking from the force of trying to sound calm. “Don’t move, don’t look up. Just stay here, okay?”
Another boom in the distance. The air smells like fire and fear. I glance back toward the house, through the haze and chaos. The spot where Alina was a minute ago is gone—just smoke and twisted beams.
My chest seizes. “Alina.”
Hunter’s head snaps up at the name. His face is pale, jaw tight. “I didn’t see her,” he says, voice raw. “ I-I don’t know where she is.”
The words hit harder than the blast.
Before I can move, Rosa tugs at his sleeve, her tiny voice breaking through the crackle of flames. “Uncle Hunt… what’s happening?”
He looks down at her, forcing calm into his voice that doesn’t reach his eyes. “It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s okay. We’re all gonna be okay.”
But his hand is gripping her too tightly, his eyes locked on the burning wreckage, scanning for a glimpse of her—of our girl.

Hunter

The smoke’s so thick it burns my throat. My ears are still ringing from the blast, every sound distant and wrong, like I’m underwater. Nico and Mason dive under the table with me, their faces pale and streaked with soot. Rosa’s clinging to my chest, trembling, her little fingers digging into my shirt.
“Oh, thank fuck,” Nico gasps, reaching for her. He pulls her into his arms, clutching her tight like he’ll never let go. “Thank you—thank you, man.”
I nod, give his shoulder a hard clap. “Have you seen the girls? Isla? Alina? Mum?”
Both of them shake their heads, wide-eyed—Mason’s voice cracks. “No, we—we didn’t see them. We can’t see anything out there.”
The heat’s building, the air alive with shouts and the crackle of fire. I can hear kids crying under the makeshift shelter that Kaiden and Luca are holding down, and I can hear glass popping somewhere behind us.
“Does anyone know what the fuck is happening?” I bark, my voice sharper than I intend.
No one answers. Just the dull roar of flames and the sound of chaos beyond the smoke.
Kaiden meets my gaze through the haze, and I give him a single nod. “Hold down the fort, brother.”
He nods back once, grim and sure.

Then I’m moving. Crawling out from under the table, lungs burning, every instinct screaming to go, to find them. The moment I’m clear, the scene hits me like a punch. The garden’s unrecognisable—twisted steel, burning wood, bodies scattered across the grass. People I’ve known my whole damn life—family, friends, made men—are crying, bleeding, calling for help. The music’s stopped, replaced by the sound of sirens somewhere far away and the terrible, human noise of panic. I force myself to move. One step. Another. I spot one of our guys—Rico—half-buried under a beam. “Hey!” I drop beside him, muscles straining as I drag the wood off his legs. He’s breathing, barely. I pull him clear, prop him against the table leg, and promise someone will come. There’s nothing else I can do. My boots slip on glass. My hands are bleeding. My heart’s beating so hard it feels like it might split open.

And then I see my aunt Stacey kneeling on the grass, her dress torn, her arms wrapped around one of the nonnas. The old woman’s limp, blood matting her silver hair.
“Stace!” I shout, stumbling toward them.
She looks up, eyes red, tears cutting tracks through the soot on her face. “She needs help! She needs help, please!”
I kneel beside them, touch the old woman’s wrist. Faint pulse. Fainter breath. My stomach twists. “Hey, hey—help’s coming,” I say, forcing my voice steady even as it shakes. “I promise you, help’s coming. It’s gonna be okay.”
I don’t know if I even believe it, but she nods frantically, sobbing, clutching Nonna's hand tighter. I can’t stop. I can’t stay. I press her shoulder once, then push myself up, scanning the yard through the smoke.
Where are they?
Where the fuck are the girls?
I start running again, through the flames and the rubble, calling their names until my voice is gone.