Devil of Pride

Chapter 9

Luc

Darkness is flooding the woods, the sun disappearing behind the horizon and leaving the clouds painted in reds and violets.

Nothing but the sun could leave something as beautiful behind after going down, nothing, especially not the human race.

This world is soiled with the existence of people like me, and my whole family. Our lives are based on lies and sugarcoating the things we do even though we are very well aware of how wrong our business is, it has always been. Completely ignoring the laws and morals, we live like we're Kings of this city, the whole country even.

Yet, my great-grandfather founded this organisation and turned the gang life into something greater, something that would make folks remember and fear his name. He did it all to escape poverty and it's family business ever since. He was the first don, practically we are supposed to praise him, in a certain way like some people chose to praise God, with the exception that we know he did live and wander these grounds at some point.

I didn't expect to end up standing in front his grave anytime sooner than my father's funeral but here I am. Staring down at a bunch of loose dirt and grass. I used to come here as a kid.

Multiple years before:

It was late at night. I was scared because I ran away after my father beat me again. The shadows between the trees moved along with the cold breeze. I always came here when I was sad or alone. I felt more with my family than I ever could have at home. I never understood what love was. It made people weak, and I wasn't weak, I didn't want to be.

My hands were still shaking from the shock of pain and the blood I felt running down my arm and chest. My shirt was stained again.

Then I heard a noice. Something that sounded like footsteps, calm and slow ones, on the fallen leaves of fall on the ground.

My body freezed. It felt like a wall of ice that wrapped around my muscles and kept me from moving. Eventually I got myself to turn my head back.

I was hoping for the person to walk by, to not notice me.

But there he was, standing six feet tall, wearing a classy suit. His weight was propped onto his black walking stick with the silver snake head at the very top. He was an intimidating man. Sometimes I was scared of him. I saw him around the cemetery a lot.

"What are you doing here, kid?"

His voice was deep and raspy, he smoked a lot, sometimes I watched him do it, watching the graves from all our past godfathers. I didn't answer, still frozen. Partly from fear and partly from the cold September air.

"Did they hurt you again?" There was a shift in his tone, it became more empathetic and soft, even a little worried. But how did he know?

I got myself to nod. My hand was still covering the bleeding wound on my shoulder.

He stepped closer, his hand wrapping around my wrist, pulling it away from the spot where my shirt was ripped and soaked in blood. He removed the pocket square from his suit, unfolding it and carefully wrapping it around the wound.

Why was he helping me? He shouldn't have to help me...

"Don't let them beat you down, champ."

He smiled. I nodded. "Who are you..?" I rasped out, the cold and misty air making my throat dry.

"You can call me X" his voice lowered to a whisper. I felt his breath in my neck as he leaned over me, his gigantic frame shielding me from the roughness of our surroundings.