Amara

Chapter 31 - The Past

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"A masterpiece of tragedy."

– Ventum
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Third Person POV:

Another week has passed with the Don sitting at his desk not knowing what to do. He has had guys try to get intel on his enemies and come up with nothing. He has hired the best private detective on the East Coast and didn't get a shred of evidence against anybody.

Every day he can feel the stress in his body getting bigger. While still having to play the part of being a calm and collected dad who has everything under control in front of his young daughter.

The young man turns his head to the side, the faint ticking noise of the small analogue clock on the desk gaining his attention. The time on the face reads nine in the evening. Slowly his eyes glance up to the large window, the night sky lit up by the busy streets of New York below him.

Salvatore stands up, he stretches his back as he lifts himself off of the large chair, moving closer to the cold window. His body instinctively leans on the side of one of the large bookcases surrounding the glass. His heavy head resting on the hardwood. He looks down at the bustling streets filled with ignorant people. People who don't understand the dangers of the place which they are walking through. A place which is filled with so much power and hatred.

A heavy sigh makes its way out of his lungs, his breath hitting the glass in front of him leaving a thin layer of mist across the pane. The fog stays for just a moment before fading away.

He wishes that these times were as simple as that. That the fog clouding his judgement would disappear like it did from the window. That he could go back to sitting at his desk and a moment of realisation would hit him, and he would know exactly what to do in exactly the right way. That he could solve all the problems for his young daughter, and she wouldn't have to worry about anything like this ever again. Never would she have to be scared of anybody, she could live her life as free as she wanted to. And he would always be there to keep the monsters away if ever they came back.

Slowly he lifts himself off of the bookshelf, moving back to his desk to retrieve his phone. He glances down at the bottom, his thumb running across the screen to see if anybody has messaged him about an update on the case. Nothing. Emptiness instantly creeps up in him. All he needs is a lead. A lead about Lucchese or Gambino. But once again he comes up empty.

He throws the phone back down on the desk. Both of his rugged hands reaching up to his face. The movement trying to bring some form of peace to his wiring thoughts. He slowly moves his hands back down to his side. A sudden wave of tiredness hits him, and the man takes a couple of steps back before catching himself.

He picks up his phone once more, taking it in his hand before placing it securely in the pocket of his suit trousers. Slowly he makes his way out of his office, turning off the warm lamp as he goes. Once he passes the doorframe he pulls the door too as he exits. Sighing once again, he slowly walks down the hallway before reaching the steps down to the bedrooms. 

He walks straight passed his own room heading towards his young daughters. After finding out a couple of days ago that her nightmares never left he has been checking up on her every night before he has gone to bed. The only problem is, is that she doesn't have nightmares that make her wake up screaming very often. So, usually, she just ends up telling him, in a sleepy tone the next morning, that she had another bed dream. 

But having that information and not being able to do anything is killing the father. However, he can't tell her that because otherwise, she will stop telling him, and that is the last thing he wants. Thankfully Amara has said that the training sessions they have been doing for the past couple of days have helped her sleep. Even if they aren't that hard, after two hours they still tend to make the girl tired.