Fury and Flame | 3

Postliminaries | Jake's Backstory

Below I've compiled some snippets I wrote for the Rage and Ruin manuscript that will be in the beginning of every one of Jake's chapters. But because that version will likely never be on Wattpad, I've decided to share them with you so that you can gain insight on the things pre-Blood and Bone that Jake would never bring up during the events of the trilogy.

I hope you enjoy reading about how our favorite gangster became the terrible person we know and love/hate.

1. On Accepting Abuse

The boy was six years old. The kind of boy to lurk behind his father's legs when others were in the room—not because he was fearful, but because he would give them what they wanted to see while he lay in wait.

And that was what he did on the day his father took him on a visit; who they were visiting, the boy did not know. But he watched his father's tightened lips, his furrowed brow. This was not a visit with one of his father's cowering men. This was an equal outside of his father's fist.

His father spoke in his strong voice, the one that left the recipient with no choice but to bend to his own will. But the boy knew his father did so first so that the other man would not bend him instead. It struck him as odd. His father was not the type of man to lower his head in reverence to anyone.

The boy did not know what the men were speaking about; it was too veiled for his young mind to comprehend. But he saw his father's struggle to remain the master of the conversation, and it was enough.

There was a break in the conversation as the boy's father refused to budge. The other bigger man paused, knelt, and met the boy's gaze as he stood behind his father's strong legs. "Scrawny little thing, aren't you?" the man asked, and the boy wished his father would make the big man back away. But he did not. So the boy did what his father would have done and raised his chin to stare back. He was aware of the effect he had on some older people, could note the difference in his own face compared to the other childrens'.

"But vicious," the man added once he had seen it too. "I like that."

The boy's father still would not save him. "Tell me," the man asked, his tone gentler, "do you love your father?"

The boy took a moment to think. He loved it when his father gave him sweets when he was obedient. He loved that his father took him on work outings while the other children he knew were left to kick cans in the alleyways. He loved when his father told him he was meant for greatness.

"Of course I do. He took me in when I had no one."

"Well then." The big man was not looking at him anymore. He faced his father. "I'm sure your father loves you very much. I'm sure he would protect you with everything in his being."

The boy's father was not pleased, but the boy didn't know why until they were safe and alone. Until his father's iron grip had him pressed against the wall.

"Stupid boy, do you see what you've done?" he asked. "You made yourself something to be taken away from me."

The boy did not like it when his father was like this.

His father struck him once so that his point would be painted as a reminder across his son's face. "I took you as my son because I saw myself in you. Raw strength. Grit. Intelligence." He shook his son's thin body to show him just how small he was. "Instead, you've made us appear lowly and weak. Do you understand what you've done?"