Alessandro 16+ / Book 1

Chapter 52: Message

Alessandro's past

Pain surges through me as the fist connects with my face, blood gushing from my mouth.

Stumbling backward, I clutch the source of agony, locking eyes with my father seated upon his throne, watching his prisoner unleash relentless crashes on me, eager for me to finish him off.

It is a display meant to prove my readiness to ascend as the new king of the mafia, but my father's expression betrays his dissatisfaction, his face filled with disgrace and fury.

Summoning my fifteen-year-old self, I get in a fighting stance, wiping away the blood trickling from my nose, knowing I cannot reveal weakness, nor can I show I am not ready; I must demonstrate my preparedness to take the role of king.

It is my duty... the only way to protect Giovanni from losing his innocence, or what little remains of it. He must not become like me, the devil my father has molded me into. I can perceive the change in him, and I am trying very hard to keep him whole, something neither of us truly is.

Against my mother's wishes, who desires Giovanni to be king instead of me, I refuse to allow my brother to bear that burden or permit my father to enforce it on him.

My love for Giovanni knows no bounds, and I will go to any lengths to protect him, even if it means becoming the very thing my mother seeks to protect me from.

The king.

Her recklessness in wanting him to assume that position instead of protecting him or finding a way to save both of us is sadly evident and evil.

I loathe her.

With clenched fists and a resounding wail of rage, I charge forward, screaming fiercely.

My leap defies gravity as my feet momentarily detach from the ground, and my fist strikes the prisoner's head with a force that sends him crashing to the floor, where I continue slamming down heavy punches on him.

I need to be king to protect him, to protect us.

"Alessandro!" The piercing sound of her cry shatters me, making it impossible to meet her gaze and witness her anguish.

I know she is powerless to protect us, despite her countless attempts, unlike our mother. Noemi, she is my mother, and I hold a deep love for her.

She tirelessly strives to ensure our safety, even if it means enduring consequences on our behalf. I can not bear the thought of her facing punishment because of us, so I avert my eyes as her piercing screams call out to me.

Sister, my innocence has already been shattered. I am a monster, and there is nothing you can do to change that.

As I relentlessly strike the prisoner, my gaze wanders to the side of the room, locking eyes with Giovanni, and a wave of disappointment washes over me.

The expression on his face fills me with anger; he has transformed into the very thing I fought to shield him from.

His visage bears nothing but frigidity, fury, and wickedness. In him, I see a reflection of myself, an embodiment of recklessness and monstrosity.

We already had blood on our hands, and there is no turning back now.

The blood from the impact of the man I am slowly killing face squirts all over me, blood sliding from my facade, my fist bruised, hurt, and bloody.

When the man is half dead, I stand to my feet, hearing the cheers from my father's armies of soldiers that will one day be mine.

Breathing heavily, I gaze at my father, observing the unmistakable pride radiating from him. That intense expression is reserved solely for moments like this or ones even more daunting, just like with my brother.