Chapter 24: ★The bastard’s daughter★

    ~Chapter 24~

    Third POV

    ????

    "Stop...stop...stop." Screaming at the top of his lungs. A fifteen year old cries for mercy were drowned out by the sound of his own heart hammering in his ears.

    He watched, paralyzed in the chair he was bounded on, as a mean-looking man rains down blows on a man who looked to be in his forties.

    The scene was bloody, the man kept throwing punch upon punches using a blade wrapped clothing to deliver them straight towards the teen father’s face.

    Leaving deep gashes on the already battered face, one eye was out from its socket and the other could barely open.

    The kid’s voice filled with rage, screamed, "Let him go! You monster!" His face was red with anger, veins bulging in his neck as he strained against the ropes binding him to the chair.

    What had they done to deserve a thing like this? Yes, his father was a Mafia boss, but he was a great leader, fair and just.

    The Italian Mafia organization was satisfied with his leadership, and so were other mafia organizations. They had maintained a delicate balance of power, avoiding unnecessary conflicts.

    "What did you say, boy?" The man’s thick Russian accent sent a chill down the kid’s spine as he sneered. He took a step closer, his massive frame looming over the teenager.

    The kid’s face was set in a stoic expression,, his eyes burning with fury. How dare this man touch his father?

    "I said, face someone your own size!" He spat, struggling against the ropes, only to tighten more, cutting into his skin.

    Sniffing his chuckles, the man held back his laughter, ending more waves of rage into the kid.

    "And who might that be, you?" The man sneered, his fist flying out towards the kid. He gave a hard punch to the kid face, sending the kid’s head snapping back.

    Just as the man was about to deliver another blow, the door to the room pulled open, welcoming three individuals dressed in suits.

    They strode into the room with an air of confidence, scanning the space before taking in the scene. The door creaking shut behind them echos through the room.

    "Bossa," the man acknowledged, giving a glare to the tied-up kid before stepping aside, revealing the three newcomers.

    Among them, one who looked to be the boss, wearing dark shades, acknowledged the greeting by replying, "Daniil." Giving Daniil a nod, his expression unreadable.

    Dizziness weighed heavily on the kid, but he refused to give in to just a punch to his head. His eyes narrowed as he took in the two adults’ impassive faces and the third person, a boy who looked to be his age mate, if not older.

    The boy’s eyes looking cold and detached but with mixture of curiosity and caution.

    "Salvatore," the boss called out to the middle-aged man who was tied up and couldn’t see due to his disoriented face. The kid’s blood boiled over.

    "Don’t you dare call his name!" Exclaimed the tied up fifteen year old.

    The man flicked his finger, and as expected, someone moved to shut the boy up.

    But it wasn’t Daniil, who had been with them since the beginning. Instead, it was the man who had arrived with the boss.

    He walked towards a table, picking up a hot rod before walking back to the kid.

    Bending slightly to talk into the kid’s ear, he whispered, "This is going to be painful." His breath sent shivers down the kid’s spine as he instantly pressed the iron towards the kid’s left face, and the skin began to burn, making the kid’s scream echoed through the room....

    Ahhh.

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    Ahhh.... Jolting upright, my hands flying out to the left side of my face, feeling the rough scraps.

    It was just a dream, a dream of my past, that fucking nightmare keeps haunting me. The sheets drenched in sweat from me furiously sweating despite the air conditioner being on.

    I threw off the covers, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. Planting my feets firmly on the ground.

    My chest heaving, still struggling to catch my breath. It was 13 years ago, stop acting like it was yesterday, telling myself that while sounding calmer than I felt.

    Moving my shaking hands to the side table, fumbling for my pack of cigarettes and lighter. I needed something to calm my nerves, to quiet the voices in my head.

    I brought out a cigarette, probing it into my mouth before trying to light up the lighter. But it flicked and died, refusing to spark. I tried again, but it still didn’t work.

    "Oh, fuck off!" Growling the words out of frustration. I threw the lighter across the room with force.

    My hands raked through my hair, trying to push the memories away. "This would hurt a little," that damned voice echoed in my mind, making me flinch.

    "Ivan, stop, let my family go...." Get the hell out of my head! I clenched my fists, trying to shake off the memories. But they lingered, refusing to be silenced.

    In a fit of rage, I picked up the glass of whiskey near me and smashed it against the wall. The sound of it shattering was satisfying, but it did little to calm the storm raging inside me

    .

    I needed a distraction, something to shake off the lingering horror of the nightmare. But those ghosts from my past refused to be silenced. The memories of that fateful day continued to haunt me.

    The faces of that old couples etched into my mind like scars. I couldn’t escape them, no matter how hard I tried. Always visiting me through my god-damned dream.

    Standing to my feet, I strode over to the wall mirror, my eyes fixed on the mask lying at the nearby table. I hated that mask, hated the way it concealed my face, hated the way it helped me cover the marks that made me remember Them.

    I picked it up, feeling the smooth leather beneath my fingers, looking over to the mirror, the glass reflecting my image.

    Those scars, the burnt marks glaring back at me, making me quickly lift the mask, before pressing it to my face.

    It molded to my skin, concealing the hideous mark that marred my left cheek and eye.

    Gazing at my reflection, the mask transforming me into a stranger, a creature without half a face or a past.

    I knew my destination, the one place that could distract me from the turmoil brewing inside. It wasn’t far, just a few steps away. I needed the distraction, the escape. And I knew just the person who could now provide it.

    The bastard’s daughter.