The Devil's Boxer (Minor Family Supremacy Series: Pete)

Chapter 1: Pete

    By nature, I am a very observant person. It started at a young age when I had to monitor my father closely for his mood swings. Then, I had to watch my mother when she was planning on leaving me with my grandmother. My grandmother would get sick, but she liked to try and hide it from me. But I always noticed. I knew more than people thought and much more than I let on. It was a skill that came in handy while I was employed as a bodyguard for a mighty and dangerous family.

    I was generally pretty quiet and kept to myself, so people assumed I was unassuming and even dull. I used their ignorance to my benefit. I used that distance and disinterest to watch them. To see them for who they were when they thought they were hiding so cleverly. There were some, like Vegas, who wore the mask very well, but I saw the cracks when others would look away, disgusted. Others would retch in the hallway as he split a man's kneecaps, but I kept my eyes on him, enthralled. He was sick and twisted, but he was beautiful when he worked.

    Because I saw things others did not, I was privy to a secret knowledge that others simply could not or did not care to see: Vegas was much smaller than he appeared.

    Literally, this would be clear to anyone with functional eyes who saw past his bravado and charisma to see that he carried himself so cockily because he was more on the petite side, muscular but slight and compact.

    Figuratively, I was the only one who saw the true him. He thought his father had seen him as weak and unworthy, but Vegas was far from weak. I could see that his father feared him. His strength was forged from years of pain and torment, but it was a heavy burden to bear alone. He was strong because he had to be, but deep down he knew it was a facade. When I entered his life, truly entered his life as more than a toy to play with until I was broken, I saw the true Vegas. I saw him exposed and weeping for his pet hedgehog, one of the only things he allowed himself to care about.

    To survive, I made him care about me, but somewhere in there, I lost myself in him. For a time, my pain blended into the masterpiece of his trauma to the point I felt like we would drown together. I needed space; I needed air. I got it by hurting him. By leaving him, as everyone else had. Little was he aware of the immense pain the departure caused me as well. I felt like I was empty and hollow. Without him, it was almost as if I forgot who I was anymore and the thought terrified me. I never wanted to ever need someone in my life. Perhaps he was the only one who could really understand that feeling, who could really understand me, so I was drawn back into him, unable to fight it anymore. I wanted him. I wanted the way he would open me raw and force me to witness his wounded heart, begging for affection. I wanted to let him in, to show him that I hurt too, but that it would be okay. He could be okay. He was worthy of love and he was also capable of it. Truly, there was no greater power than that, right?

    I felt clarity when I saw him, vulnerable and broken when his father died. They had a very complicated relationship, I could understand that, but he didn't get to end it on his terms. There would be no more chances for revenge, rebellion, or redemption. I had no choice but to draw my weapon on him, although my heart was breaking. I warned him, calling his name as he drew his weapon, arm reaching over his father's corpse to target his uncle. Khun Korn diffused the situation, calling off his other men and telling Vegas that he and Macau would be taken care of, but Vegas didn't seem to care. Hissing, he stood up and rushed past me as if I wasn't even there. But I had seen him. I had seen his eyes. He was in danger. He was his own worst enemy.

    Without hesitation, I resigned and rushed after the love I wanted to hold onto for the rest of my life, and his. And I was going to make sure it was a long life, dammit.

    He was just coming back to me, his eyes softening in the way that only I knew they could, when he was shot. With a furious vengeance, I killed whoever it was who threatened to take away my happiness before rushing to Vegas's side. He was unresponsive as I wept and screamed over him, wanting to die as well if he was truly gone.

    Someone had already called down the doctors and nurses employed by the Main Family now that the threat was gone. I tried to hold onto Vegas's hand as the gurney rushed him toward the medical bay, but the blood made our hands slippery. Eventually, someone grabbed me, putting an end to my clumsy and desperate fumbling. I tried to shake them off, but they held on tighter. Spinning, I could barely see Khun No and Arm through my tears.

    I fell to my knees, sobbing harder than I have ever sobbed in my life. Khun No was crying too as he held me, and I could feel his body trembling as he made soft shushing noises. Once I had no more tears left to cry, I wailed until my voice was gone. Arm lifted me up and dragged me to Khun No's room, where he wiped my face and gave me a glass of water to drink while Khun No patted my head like I was a small child. I knew he had always cared for me, but I never understood the depths of his love for me until he comforted me that night. Pol rushed in and told us that Vegas was going to pull through and that he had been transferred for surgery. He had been taken to the large hospital the Theerapanyakul family privately owned, although their name was not on any of the official paperwork. I stood up too quickly and grew lightheaded. Khun No tried to pull me back down, but I brushed him off, finding my bearings.

    "I need to go with him. Vegas needs me. I need him."

    "Let me drive you," Arm said, letting out a resigned sigh.

    I nodded at him and together we rushed out the door and to the hospital. After several more hours, when the first rays of dawn began to peek through the misty skyline, Vegas was wheeled into his private room. He was in a coma, they said, and I sat stupified as machines worked tirelessly to keep him going. I needed him to keep going. He was a fighter, and he was mine. I would not surrender him to the reaper without a terrible fight.

    I spent every available moment at his side. I was beyond exhausted, but I kept talking to him, kissing his lips and face and fingers and praying to whoever would listen that he would pull through for me. Macau was scared, and I did my best to comfort him, but he needed his brother. When Venice appeared, it was like a little ray of sunshine amidst an unrelenting torrential downpour. Immediately I was taken with the little boy. It was as if the book of Vegas had a chance to be rewritten by new authors, and I wanted to keep him for my own. I would share him with Vegas and Macau, of course, but I was going to ensure that this baby felt so much love and care. I would make sure he got the chance that Vegas never had when he was small.

    Staring at the two of them for hours, all I could see were the little similarities. I knew Venice would grow up to be handsome like Vegas. More importantly, I wanted to make sure that he would grow up to be kind. I wanted him to have that type of strength.

    When Vegas finally awoke, I was overjoyed but hesitant. What if he no longer wanted me?

    To my surprise, he had the same worry. As if I could ever deny or rebuke him. I no longer could survive on my own, for I had placed my own heart within his, letting its warmth stoke the fire to keep his burning. My very soul was stitched fast to his.

    I assured Vegas that I only wanted to follow my heart. I could see the trust and hope in his eyes as he absorbed my words. I made a vow to myself that I would spend each and every day loving him absolutely and giving him my all.

    Some days that was much easier said than done.