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We’ve been preparing for this moment since we were teenagers. That’s when the weekend training camps started. Running, shooting practice, learning what the family truly did in the dark of night. Taking out the trash and disposing of the evidence. It was all about building us into the men they needed us to be. Arrow and Shepp as soldiers behind me, and me, the heir to it all. My father has groomed me in his image, hoping that I continue his legacy when I take over.
I silently suck in a breath, adjusting my position on the hard ground through tiny movements. The cool stone of the basement seeps through my jeans, sending shivers down my spine as goosebumps pebble across the exposed skin of my chest and back.
“Your father would be proud,” Gabriel proclaims, his voice easily recognizable under the black mask concealing his hard facial features. Putting a hand on Shepp’s shoulder, he gently squeezes with reassurance.
And the award for the biggest liar in the room goes to Gabriel Viotto. What a sick joke. Shepp’s father was never proud of him. Even at a young age, I observed him to be a worthless drunk, beating his wife and son into submission. I saw the marks he tried to hide from me at school. Then one day, my talkative best friend showed back up to school after being absent without his fucking tongue.
Fuck that.
Anger bristles under my skin, but I quickly cover it up with deep breaths. Never show your emotions, my father would always say. Never give the enemy any clue as to what you’re planning or thinking. His rules ring through my mind like a ghostly whisper on my shoulder. Always following me around and forcing me to comply with his demands.
Until I started questioning his motives behind his back. Starting with the day he handed me the picture of my wife and informed me of our new alliance. Hopefully soon, my cousin will pull through and shine more light on the situation.
My father slowly moves in front of Arrow, who grins at him. So much for not showing our emotions, but my father doesn’t seem to mind. He embraced Arrow’s true self many years ago when he basically adopted him from the priest to use him as he pleased. He saw his potential from a mile away, swooping in and offering the priest a reprieve from the shame of having a son out of wedlock.
“Arrow Amour, you’ve made a fine soldier. You’ve worked hard and proved your loyalty to this family over and over again.” My father slaps him on the shoulder a few times before leaving him and standing in front of me.
“My son. My heir. You’ve made me proud over the years. I’ve molded you into the man you are now. And I know you’ll continue to make me proud.” His dark eyes bleed into mine as pride shines through them. For once, I think my father may feel a sliver of joy for the son he loved to shove in the dark and let cry to sleep.
“Thank you, Father,” I say with a small nod.
Stepping back, he says nothing in return, holding out his hands to the four men crowded behind him. They follow his every command like dutiful little soldiers.
“The sword of our allegiance,” he demands, wiggling his fingers with impatience toward the men standing stoically behind him.
A single under boss slowly opens a dark black case at his feet, bending at the waist to retrieve a large, intricate sword shining under the candlelight surrounding us and illuminating the large stone space we’ve adopted as our ceremony stage.
“To the family,” Gabriel says, hoisting the sword into the air. “To us. To the organization. To loyalty and blood!” His voice echoes off the stone, lighting a fire in my soul.
There, right before me, is the answer to my prayers. For the family, I’ll be loyal—but only for the two men I call my brothers. To Arrow and Shepp, I will protect them. Together we’ll fight the good fight and make this organization our bitch. Gabriel doesn’t know he’s initiating the three demons from hell, hellbent on uprooting everything he’s created. Hell, we’ve already started. And this is just the beginning of everything we have planned.
Gabriel grunts when he throws his black gloves off and runs the blade over his palm. Blood bubbles to the surface of his flesh, spilling out his open wounds when he raises it in the air for us to see.
“Blood out for the family I’ve pledged myself to. And blood in,” he says, holding the bloodied tip of the sword at Shepp’s bare chest, carefully slicing through his flesh until his blood mixes with Shepp’s, marking him as family. Our blood oath. My brother doesn’t flinch when the tip digs in further, slicing straight down the middle between his pecs. Blood paints his flesh, slowly dripping onto the stone between his knees.
“Sheppard,” Gabriel demands his attention."Your father would be standing right beside me at this moment, smiling that his son finally made it to the initiation. We had our doubts," he hums, looking off into the distance.
Fucking prick. Had his doubts? Of course, he’d say something so vile like that to Shepp’s face when his father was the one who made him mute. I clench my teeth, biting my tongue. Now is not the time to lash out at my father for his wicked words aimed to hurt. He knows what he’s saying and when to say it.
I watch my father’s next movements closely when he gets to Arrow, doing the same routine as he did with Shepp. Out of the corner of my eye, Vincent Amour rests in the corner, adorned in his white robes and stoic facial expression. His fingers clasp together tightly as he takes in the scene and sucks in a breath.
“He’s done good, Priest,” Gabriel remarks, nodding toward the man in the shadows. “You were right to come to me all those years ago.” A smug smirk pulls at Gabriel’s lips when he squeezes Arrow’s shoulder again.
Arrow looks toward his father with a manic grin, reveling in the blood seeping out of his chest and down toward the floor. He doesn’t wince or hint at the pain burning through his chest. My bet? He’s basking in the pain that he enjoys with every fiber of his being. He was born like that. Loving the pain and suffering. Only Gabriel knew how to harness it for himself and teach Arrow his ways.
“Good,” Vincent says with a tight smile, watching his son with glistening eyes. Before we can blink, he silently walks up the stairs and disappears from sight. Not bothering to watch the rest of the initiation. He came. He saw. He witnessed his bastard son’s pledge to the Viotto Family.
Half of me wonders if the priest is actually happy about his son pledging his life to an organization hellbent on violence and blood. Despite the fact, Arrow thrives in this environment. I bet when Arrow’s deadbeat mom dropped him on the priest’s doorstep, he never thought Arrow would become the man he is today. Not that he initially wanted him, anyway. But he did what he had to do. Eventually, giving up his rights to my father and going back to the church he loved.
My attention returns to the madman wielding a sword, heading in my direction with malice hiding in the depths of his eyes. For whatever reason, since I was born, my father has despised me. For the loss of my mother? Probably. He’ll blame me for whatever is going through his mind until the day he takes his last breath. I can guarantee that. Nothing I do truly impresses him.
Stopping in front of me, my father stares down at me. “Through the veins of my son, my heir, and the next in line for my throne of power.”
Deep pain radiates from my chest the moment the tip of the blade presses through my flesh. I suck in a breath through clenched teeth. Crisp red blood runs down my chest and stomach, softly dripping to the ground, staining it a deep red. A straight line rests between my pec muscles, down my sternum, and stops midway down my chest, creating a deep wound that will heal into a thick, raised scar.
Like every member of the Viotto family, fighting for our empire. It’s our symbol—our right to bear. Our scar to prove our loyalties.
We are the Viotto Crime Family. Ruler of Briar Cove. The family in charge of California.
