Youngest Heir

Chapter 7

Dante had returned Ashley to his room, still not certain of any progress made, before heading to Lorenzo's room. They hadn't told their father yet and wouldn't until they were certain.

There were three reasons Lorenzo wasn't in charge of how they handled Ash, despite being the eldest. Firstly, Dante had found Ash and built that initial "trust" of a sort which would make him the most comfortable for Ash to be around. Secondly, Dante was soft and gentle by nature whereas Lorenzo, and the rest of his family really, were colder, harder. And lastly, while all the siblings had similar features, Dante looked like Ash, and that familiarity might just be what won him over.

So rather than kidnapping a kid and throwing him in the midst of five people, four of which were not suited for hospitality, they decided to contain it to Dante. For now.

"Well?" Lorenzo had gathered the twins in his room as well, much to his annoyance as they kept ruffling through his things when they thought he wasn't watching, giggling to each other. Matteo, the youngest, had refused to come.

"Ashley is his name," at this Xander scoffed, earning a punch from his twin while Dante ignored them and continued to report, "and as far as I can tell, he is a runaway of sorts. He doesn't really talk."

"What do you mean runaway?" One twin asked while the other stated "of course he talks." Xavier had loudly opened one of Lorenzo's draws, earning a sharp "Oi!" which cause both to be still.

"He's ten." They all went silent at that. "He implied he has no parents, siblings or anything like that and is behaving like he is avoiding someone. Think about where he was found, at what time."

"Do you think..." Xander started, turning to look at Xavier who's eyes were cast downward.

"Fratellino."

"I can't be sure yet. Dig around about any ten-year-old boys named Ashley, particularly in ours and neighbouring states, it can't be that many."

---

The following morning, Ash slowly came to as soft light disturbed his sleep. Drowsily sleeping between worlds, he vaguely recognised that someone was watching him.

"Così carino," someone whispered and another hummed in agreement. (So cute)

"Così piccolo." A pause, "e strano. Perché dorme qui?" (So small... and weird. Why is he sleeping here?)

Ash stirred and heard nervous gasping before the scuffling of feet on carpet and the closing of a door. At first he lay in his blissful half awake state but suddenly was lurching up. Instantly on edge by the open closet door and the foggy memory of voices.

Cautiously he got up and examined the room, finding it empty of people but a pile of clothes waiting on the bare bed, all slightly too big for him, especially the two jumpers. Someone had been in the room, and he wasn't convinced it was Dante. He needed to leave sooner rather than later, and he needed to prepare. So Ash snuck from his room and began to explore, listening to doors before entering and frequently checking around him. The house was large, ridiculously so, but Ash started his search by going down the upstairs hall way. The first three rooms Ash checked where just as void and empty as his own. The fourth, however, was definitely occupied.

He had listened to the door and found it quiet, but upon entering saw someone lying in the bed. A man.

In fact, the very same man who brought him here. Asleep. On one hand, this might be the only opportunity to search the room, on the other, he could wake up at any time. And Ash had no indications around his temper.

He was about to leave until he saw an old backpack through the ajar closet door. He would need to carry more than knives this time. Closing the door as much as he could without it clicking shut, Ash slowly and softy moved toward the closet. It was much larger than the one he had set up a bed in. He frequently glanced back at the lump on the bed and always listened to the rhythm of the snoring.