Captured By Throne

The Target

He reached for the handle as I went to grab his neck with one arm, placing him in a chokehold. My other arm was holding up the cloth to his nose. He was a heavyset guy, eh, a tad bit on the overweight side if anything. Though pretty old. He trashed around in my arms but I held my grip. He got in one backward punch to my jaw before I felt him go limp in my arms. I reached up to touch my jaw, it was already feeling puffy. Crazy old man, what is with these people?

I was in a middle of letting out a sigh as the door to the room was pulled open. A woman wearing very little clothes gaped at me. She looked back and fourth between me and Wilson.

"Uh...he passed out"

She let out what could be considered a scream as she stepped past me and Wilson, others quickly followed her out of the room.

What is this place?

"Lost track of Wilson, anyone see him? " Toni responded in my ear.

"I have him, get Jack and come over here" A muffed sound returned in the ear piece making me question why they were hesitating. Before I had time to ask, he answered

"Uh...boss?" started Jack

"Get on with it" I said through my teeth. My arms were starting to get sore from holding big old Wilson.

"It's about Cal..."

I felt my stomach drop. Cal. I knew from the sound of Jacks voice that something happened to him. My mind tried to imagine all the possibilities, but despite myself, I instead went to the worst case scenario.

We were practically raised together, we had the same blood, him being my cousin. Despite being raised to compete with each other, he was like a brother to me. I could still hear his teasing voice as he made fun of me for always being behind in training when we were kids. Because that's what he did, he was always the better one. He knew how to act the part he was made for perfectly, he practically owned the act. He wasn't made into anything he didn't want to be.

I wish I could say the same.

What happened to my brother?

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"Come on"

I let out something akin to a growl in frustration as I threw the last knife. The annoying sounds of Cal's voice and the sound of the knife when it landed on the floor was deeply in rooted in my mind as I watched it fly out of my grip. I knew from the moment it left my fingertips it was not going to make it. It bounced off the side of the board, hitting the wood with the rear side of the knife before spinning off to the side, hitting the concrete ground with a thud.

"Your stance is wrong, and you're not aiming, did you learn anything?" Cal moved closer to me, shoving me off to the side.

"Watch how it's done" He carried a pack of knives identical to the ones I had carried. He slid one out as he rolled his shoulder. Show off. He aimed towards the board while taking a long breath. He threw the knife hitting the board directly in the bullseye while exhaling again. I scoffed as I made my way towards him to try again. Instead of moving, he pulled out another knife and swiftly pulled his hand back a second before hitting the board again with a striking thud. This time, though, the sound was metal hitting wood.

I took a big step back, astonished as he kept throwing knives at record speed until his pack was empty. My mouth was hanging slightly open in awe as I approached him slowly again, never taking my eyes off the board 15 feet away.

All of the knives were directly in the center of the circle. Though perfectly spread out to make sure none of the knives greeted another knife during the process.

Clap, Clap, Clap

I turned around to see my uncle,

The Mafia King.

Heat rose up in my cheeks and down my neck. How long was he watching? I knew I was behind, Cal learned how to throw knives when he was only nine, this was only practice for him. I was ten years old and couldn't get my stance right. Out of all things.

"Again, until you get it right"

I shuddered in response to his harsh demanding voice, thinking he was talking to me. But instead, Cal went over to retrieve the knives. Again? We were training for at least three hours now, and Cal was the one who was training the most, I took too many breaks. I couldn't keep up with him. I don't know how he did it.

He gave me a small grin on his way back, carrying all the knives, Mine included. He seemed unaffected by his father lack of appreciation for those amazing throws. How did he do it? I wondered as I watched Cal throw the knives for the millionth time that day, always landing in the center circle.

I wish I never found out how.

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Next chapter is out! ❤️