♤PACTS♤

Chapter 10 - History of the British Empire

Danny Torent's POV

"Not all of us are going to make it out of this mess alive," I say while looking away.

In this Empire, Death is as normal as rainfalls. When Death is near, Sam plays the part of the Grim Reaper.

I'm not ready to die, not before I get my answers.

"Well then," He smirked and turned back to look at the garden. "We better get ready."

Sam plays with the concept of Death as if he were a child with a new colouring set. I've always been fond of the colour red, but Sam thrives on its sight.

I've come in contact with many proud men, but Sam Griffin is the first I have seen that could back up his pride without needing firearms or an army.

It's a skill not many can acquire, but I want it. I need it.

I walk closer and stand next to him by the edge of the balcony, "What's the catch?"

He chuckled slightly, "What catch could there be, Daniel?"

"You have a thing for bloodshed, so I'm assuming that you have most of your cards planned out." I mumble, "So tell me, Sam, what is it that you plan to do?"

"You're going to be more descriptive with what you're getting at." He took a sip from his scotch, admiring the garden below us.

I scoff, "Well then, let's take a look at the list, shall we? We must catch your sister before she can bring us all to our knees. Caleb's mother wanders everywhere with your daughter's blood on her hands. Lastly, you have a granddaughter to train. Need I go on?"

He finishes his drink and slams the glass onto the handrails, "Let me let you in on a little secret. The reason that my predecessors gave the outlook of us being racists was beyond reasonable. The criminal list that I gave you and Peyton to view was the first generation of the Empire."

I had to grip the edge of the balcony to try and come to terms with what he was saying. So when they say that the British Empire is a nuisance to society and harbours criminals. They weren't being figurative. They were being practical.

"The first-ever Griffin and his band of friends were street fighters who wanted something more but a little less. They each had a bone to pick, be it with themselves, their families or society in general. They made a pact to protect their loved ones in the form of deals, taking in criminals and trying to turn them. When that didn't work, the one who was the bravest would kill them to make sure they didn't cause more havoc." He explained.

"I'm guessing the remaining people among that friend group had their last names as Reynolds and Wellington," I confirm what I read a few weeks ago.

The founding families were Griffin, Reynolds and Wellington.

He nodded, "The government noticed that the crime rate had dropped, and the streets were slowly becoming safer. They found the three vigilantes. Together they made a vow. The government would give them the resources they would need to keep the country safe when the security personnel couldn't. And that was how the British Empire came to be, three people trying to pick the pieces of their shattered lives together. After that, the trio made a bond, to ensure that they would rule and the rulers must be a direct descendant from them."

"Was there ever a time where one of them was a female?" I inquire.

"My father's mother was made to take over temporarily when his father got assassinated when he was in his mid-teens. The whole place was in chaos, but thanks to his comrades, the Empire survived that. I had no choice but to end the Reynold bloodline. A coup was set in place. If I have to sleep with both eyes open, I know it won't have to be under my roof." His tone took a rough edge.