The Mafia Kids

Chapter 3

(Hunter's Dad aka Don Alpha - Jhonney Depp)

"I've called the doctor, he'll be here in half an hour," dad said sternly and I raised a brow at him.

We reached LA a few hours ago and were currently in the new house which he bought on the way for safety measures. He has finances, he gets things done because this mansion was sparkling cleaned when we got here.

"I'm fine actually, there's no need, did the men find anything?" I asked taking a seat in his office.

He had called me here a couple minutes ago. He sat behind his desk and his s glasses rested on the bridge of his nose as he scanned through some documents not looking up at me.

"Apparently we don't need to do anything because its been handled by Denzel. They tracked back the bomb to the maker and found out who was behind the attack. The Centios, we've wiped them out already," he said nonchalantly.

Denzel is one of my father's capos, along with two other guys one named Bruno the other Pablo and myself.

The Centios were a relatively small weapons producer who were once a supplier of ours but due to them attempting to rob us, we killed the owner. They were also trackers who could have found us easily because there were meetings at our house from time to time.

"Good riddance then, did they find out how the bomb got there?" I asked and he cracked a smile.

"They used a drone, they learnt that from us, its charming really," he said and I sighed because I was right.

"Well, do we have any other problems that needs to be taken care of?" I asked getting up.

"None at the moment," he said pouring some whiskey in a glass.

"Well then, I'll take your leave boss, oh and call off the doctor," I said getting up and leaving to my room.

It was already 5pm and I felt the urge to just lie down. The adrenaline had died down long ago and I now felt the shooting pain of my wound anytime I moved too quickly or bent foward, as it pulled on the charred skin.

I locked my door then proceeded to the bed where I gently lied down on my stomach and closed my eyes. Fortunately for me, if I didn't get enough sleep during the day, I was able to gain my energy back while I was awake. The ability to have your eyes closed and rest while you were aware of everything was always my advantage in life. I asked a doctor about it once and he said that certain people are able to get their energy by sleeping less than average and when they oversleep they feel drained and tired. That's exactly what was happening with me and its been like this ever since I could remember.

About half an hour had passed and I felt revived so I got up since my growling stomach called for food. As I entered the kitchen I found my father at the stove which was a very unusual sight to behold. It sparked an old memory of before I turned five and both my mother and older brother passed away my father became cold towards me. He was once a loving man whom often showed off his cooking skills and smiled often but after that day he just changed something in him died and as I grew older I realized he was broken on the inside. He shut me out completely so I gave up in trying to rekindle our bond and he didn't seem to care. As we grew further apart as the years passed I began referring to him as sir or boss because he was no longer that person I knew as dad.

I sat quietly at the counter behind him watching intently at his every move. It fascinated me that my very cold and rugged father moved so elegantly at a kitchen stove. He looked somewhat peaceful and it made me feel a sense of happiness for him. He didn't seem to notice my presence or acknowledge me but I knew better as he could sense when he was alone or not.

"Are you hungry child?" He asked not looking at me.

See, he knew of my presence.

"Very much so," I replied looking at my stomach which had been grumbling loudly for the past ten minutes.

He turned to face me with a pleasant yet unreadable look then smiled. Why the fuck was he smiling at me.

"Well then, I made us dinner," he said turning off the stove.

Us? As in the two of us? He gave me a second thought when doing something?

"Are you in a fucking good mood or something?" I asked raising a brow at him and he let out an amused laugh.

Did he fucking hit his head when I tackled him or something?

"No I didn't hit my fucking head, the chef won't arrive till tomorrow and since I was cooking I made food for us as you would obviously be hungry," he said trying not to laugh but I saw him cover it up.

Shit, I said that out loud.

"Well alright then," I replied feeling more at ease with his response.

He went to grab two plates but got one instead and I snorted because he wasn't going crazy after all.

"Get your ass up and get the food," he grumbled and I grinned getting up but he didn't see as his back was facing towards me.

There's the old man I know.

I grabbed a plate and put the shrimp alfredo on the plate then walked to the table where he was already seated. Everyday, we would eat in silence and leave as soon as we were finished. If conversation were to ever arise it would be about a mission or a discussion about something revolving the mafia, never small talk. I grew to love the silence and never wanted anything else.

I grabbed the fork and stabbed the pasta then pit it in my mouth. It was absolutely amazing, hands down the best Alfredo I've ever had and shrimp Alfredo was my favorite dish. I furrowed my brows as I chewed slowly asking myself of he had actually cooked this by himself without any help.

"What's the problem? Is it bad?" He asked eyeing me with a raised brow.

"No, it's good, I like it, that's why I'm making this face," I shrugged and a small smile danced on his lips only briefly.

It was amazing but I would never tell him that because I simply don't want to compliment him further to think I was going to start kissing his ass now like everyone else he knew. I almost forgot what his cooking tasted like, he was always a great chef, he knew it back then and would always try to rub it in mom's face because he thought he was the best.

I let out a soft laugh recalling the memory but soon regretted it as he was now looking at me as if I was crazy. I didn't bother saying anything as he just went back to eating and when we were finished I wemt straight back to my room.

The fucking old man has gone bonkers. He asked if the food wasn't good? Does he normally care what I have think? No! He would have just said eat the fucking thing with a scowl.

I sighed and grabbed a book, tomorrow I would go to get new clothes since all my shit was now ashes. All I had was the small suitcase from the trunk I brought outside before going to get the large one which was now ashes. Now that I think about it, I would also need a new phone, luckily my laptop and other stuff survived in the car.