UNWANTED DEVOTION

THE TRAINING BEGINS..

Kian's pov...

I sat on the plane with my uncle, Sam.

The flight took two hours to get there. I stared out of the window, lost in thought. The view was amazing, but my mind was blank, thinking only of Crystal, that little girl.

We arrived in Italy. Honestly, I had been here many times before, but this time the airport felt empty, except for the guards in black.

Their coats were neatly buttoned, and they wore matching shirts and black pants. Their eyes were hidden behind dark glasses, and one ear had an earpod. They had guns in their pockets. I swallowed hard at the sight and tightened my grip on my uncle's hand.

As we walked out of the airport, I saw many cars waiting for me. When we reached the mansion, the maids put my things in a fancy room. I lay down and looked out the window at the sky.

It was beautiful, just like Crystal, pure and innocent. I closed my eyes, remembering only her.

I was asleep when a loud knock woke me. I got up and opened the door to see my uncle standing there with a serious expression.
He said, "Training time."

I nodded and followed him, feeling nervous but excited. That feeling vanished when I saw what was in front of me. We were in a dark basement with flickering lights. Small cages held people, or subjects, for my training, which I never expected.

A man was tied to a pole, covered in bruises. The smell of blood made me choke. It was terrifying. When he turned his head toward me, I wanted to run away.

His eyes were missing, replaced by bloody holes. It looked like someone had pulled them out. It seemed impossible, but what I saw felt real.

I turned my back on him and ran. Then I saw the biggest shock: my uncle stood outside the locked door, smirking as he said, "Your training starts now, Kian," and left me alone with the man. He was alive, making painful noises. I curled up in a corner, covering myself with my arms. He kept struggling against his chains, and every time his head turned toward me, I trembled in fear.

"No, please, leave me..." I kept saying. Suddenly, he hung half of his body from the chains, the other half still attached to the pole. He didn't move.

"H... hey," I whispered, and he turned toward me with a creepy smile. I lost it and cried out, but he went limp again.

I didn't know how long I had been there, but his wounds became infected, and insects crawled over them, making me sick.

Then the gate opened.

I should have been happy, but instead, I felt numb. I knew being part of the mafia was cruel, but what I had seen was inhumane.

My uncle took my hand and led me out of the cage. Back in my room, I stared blankly at the sky. This time, my mind was empty, filled only with thoughts of that horrifying scene. When I tried to sleep, all I could see were those bloody sockets. My dreams turned into nightmares.

I was enrolled in the most expensive school in Italy. The experience was good, but I never made any friends. People thought I was cold, weird, and arrogant, and they were right too , i was .

After school, I was brought back to witness brutal murders again and again. This continued for over two months. After that, I stopped feeling scared. I became fascinated by the ways of killing. It felt like art to me. Deep down, I knew it was wrong, inhumane, and cruel, but I was taught to learn and observe.

When exams came, I finally had a break from the training. I read until my eyes started to close.

A few days after the results were announced, I topped the class with the highest scores, which made one student hate me. He came up to me angrily, shoving me and punching my chest while I just looked at him. I slowly reached into my pocket to grab a pen.

His hand was about to hit me again when I opened the pen lid and aimed it at him. He screamed in pain as the tip pierced his hand, going in halfway. I smirked and pushed it with force until it came out the back of his hand.

The other students looked horrified. Some were crying, while others stood frozen.

I was called to the principal's office, not for punishment but to receive an apology from that boy.

That's when I learned about the power of money and the mafia.

My life became harsh, dangerous, and strangely enjoyable. Not a day passed without me playing with people's lives.

Then that day came when I received my first punishment.

I made a mistake.

A man stood in front of me, crying, and my uncle handed me a gun, telling me to shoot him. But how could I? I had never done anything like that before. I didn't know what his mistake was or why he was there. I kept thinking of Crystal's face.

"I can't..." I said, and my uncle frowned. He threw the cigarette from his mouth and shouted, "SHOOT, YOU FUCKER!"

But I couldn't do it. I dropped the gun on the floor. "No," I whispered. I didn't notice when the door locked behind me. Two bodyguards came in with large, sharp hunters, throwing them at my small body with full force.

I shouted and cried in pain, but they didn't stop. I kept saying sorry again and again until a harsh kick hit my jaw, probably breaking it instantly.

Blood dripped from my mouth.

"SHUT YOUR MOUTH!" my uncle shouted.

The punishment continued for what felt like an hour. My body was tired, bloody, and torn.

Finally, they stopped. My uncle grabbed my hair and pulled me up, placing the gun back in my hands and adjusting it.

"Shoot," he whispered. I looked at him with tear-filled eyes and nodded.

Two gunshots echoed in the room, and the body fell to the ground. My hands shook uncontrollably.

I did it. Why? I didn't want to. Those words kept running through my mind.

I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, missing only my parents.

"Why..." I wanted to ask my dad.

"Did you miss me?" I longed to ask my mom.

I cried for them, but they were far away, out of reach. I wanted to tell them how painful this was, to complain about what my uncle was doing to me. But according to the mafia training rules, trainees were not allowed to contact their families until they become one.

I couldn't even express how those ten years had gone by.

With so many deaths, so much torture, and countless punishments.

My hands were always covered in blood, my body always bruised. My uncle always played manipulative games with me, leading me to kill someone-often without any fault of them.

Until...

?

"I know you hate cliffhangers, cuties, but I love them! So, stay tuned..."