When We Met

CH 4 Logan

What a damn day. We made a million pounds profit and my father "promoted" me to the head of the company. Or at least that's what he said publicly. Behind the scenes, my uncle killed off one of our smaller enemies, but we still need to take down the bigger cartel players threatening our turf. I don't even know at this point, I'm so confused with all the twists and turns of this life.

Yes, I've been part of the family business since I was 18, but I'm still just a 31-year-old lost man-child trying to straddle the line between the legal world and the vicious underworld my father and uncle run like it's some sort of video game. And yes, as you can tell, I was never one for computer games or anything requiring fighting skills.

"Agh, could this day be any longer? I'm so tired, I want to rest. I've been at this for three days with no sleep or food," I groaned, rubbing my bloodshot eyes.

As Noah, my younger brother, came strolling into my office - his crisp shirt collar stained with what looked disturbingly like dried blood. He moved with such casual nonchalance as if he owned the place instead of me.

"God, if I had a pound for every time you walked in here with blood on your shirt, I'd be even richer," I snapped at him. "How many times do I have to tell you - don't bring that stuff into my office! We run a respectable business here on the legit side, you know that!"

Noah smirked, not even attempting to look ashamed as he shrugged out of his soiled dress shirt. "Wow bro, chill the hell out. Maria's so right, you really need to get laid."

I glared at him over the top of my computer screen. Of course, he would bring up our sister's jokes about my permanent state of aggravated virginity. Typical Noah, always pushing my buttons even when fully aware I was the one being groomed as father's heir to this empire.

My brother met my furious gaze, suddenly looking a bit sheepish as he studied the patterned rug. For all of his bravado, he knew better than to push me too far when I was in boss mode. Yes, he may have eagerly thrown himself into the brutal illegal underside of our operations, but I was still the anointed one. I knew everything that went on, both the legitimate businesses and the ruthless underworld activity.

I had been trained in all aspects to be the toughest, most ruthless leader to oversee this entire syndicate one day. Yes, I put forth a kind, respectable face in my public role, but anyone stupid enough to cross me would quickly encounter my embrace of the family's darkness too. A darkness my brother had clearly already accepted into his soul, while I still struggled with it at times.

"Noah, we're at work. My work, the respectable public face of this operation," I said in a low, dangerous tone. "You will not disrespect me here with your crude jokes. Yes, you're invaluable as my enforcer on the streets, but I'll be the one giving the orders soon as father's heir. Don't you ever forget that?"

He looked sufficiently chastised, offering a mumbled apology about overstepping the line before letting himself out to go clean up. I exhaled slowly, running a hand through my meticulously groomed hair.

I knew I had been perhaps too harsh, but it was a firmness drilled into me by my father and uncle a ruthless strength I would need to lead this organisation through any obstacle. Even if it meant cracking down on my own flesh and blood at times.

As I watched Noah's defeated form disappear down the hallway, I felt a pang of sadness at the darkness that had already consumed him so fully. While I straddled both worlds, he had fully immersed himself in the bloody underworld as my family's enforcer...their attack dog, if we were being honest.

I sighed again, wondering if I would ever be able to let go of my inherent core of kindness and civility enough to survive in that same moral abyss when it was my turn to take the reins. Or if I would end up just another civilian casualty, too weak for the sheer depravity our business demanded of its rulers.