Dom

Prologue | Things will go wrong.

These hands.

These hands were painted innocent.

These hands were hiding the lie.

The hands of this man had landed countless problems that a plethora of people had to bear. Good, and bad. Favourable, and deplorable.

And up until now, no one has realised it. 

No one had realised what he had done.

And no one will.

Until the time is right.

Until time chooses to visit him.

The man knew it in his mind, that the past would come to haunt his present, that his past would come to haunt the present of his family.

And just like his life, the past would bring everyone else to ruin. It was just a matter of when.

It was just waiting.

Seeking.

Watching.

Breathing down your neck.

Waiting to pounce on you when you relax and limp.

But again, this would happen only until the time is right. 

Time was not visiting him yet.

With that safety in mind, his hand shifted the gear of the car with ease, scrutinising every single detail around him before moving beyond the roads of the main highway and into the path of the outskirts of his destination.

His tattooed arms flexed with every movement, and a silver chain around his neck given by his little girl was safely tucked in the shirt he wore. 

The silver chain possessed the engraving of a fox, an animal dear to him and his family, holding meaning that the man lived by and was known by.

He was anything but pleasant with criminals.

At least he was the good guy. 

Him as the bad guy? Oh boy.

He watched every other car, every other driver move away from him as his stare did the work of a silent vigilante, guarding the very people that were with him in the car, and he went ahead, accelerating at the road which would lead to the property he owned near the ocean.

The choking of the engine kindled his satisfaction, letting its roar be known once he landed his large foot on the accelerator.

His audience, tucked comfortably in the remaining seats of the car, were delighted and in a good mood, making him have a content expression on his face beside his weariness, while his mixed-matched eyes bore holes into his environment. 

And he kept one hand on the wheel.

While the other was on the thigh of his beautiful wife, caressing her skin and giving small pinches here and there, making her giggle and blush now and then while she was talking.

She kept herself with the needle and the yarn, her red hair all shining under the summer sun.

The man loved it. The way her soft hands and squirming body would try to make him stop with small pushes, and he'd just grip her harder. Feel her better. Touch her deeper.

The asserted control he had over her was abhorrent. 

Yet despite his destructive demeanour, she was like medicine to him.

The only woman, besides his little girl, that could calm him down.

And hearing her laugh kept him in a good mood as well.