Peaceful vowes

Chapter 1

MACAU

SOME EVENTS in life are so transformative, they
can leave a person
speechless. When my father had my mother killed six months ago, words
completely escaped me. Nothing I could say would help me understand or
keep me from being in danger, so I chose not to say anything at all.
For the past six months, I hadn’t spoken a single word.
Not to my brother or my best friend. Not even alone in the dark.
I hadn’t made a sound since I’d woken up in the hospital after the car
wreck that had taken my mother’s life. At first, I was in a state of shock
while processing what had happened and trying to comprehend the
magnitude of my loss—my mother and father gone in the blink of an eye.
Dad might not have been in that car, but he was dead to me all the
same.
He’d orchestrated the accident that had stolen the best part of my
world from me. My mother. My heart. Without her, a gaping hole had been
carved from my soul.

In the midst of my crippling sorrow, fear and fury simmered to life
beneath my surface. All of it was directed at one man. The same man who
should have been my solace and sanctuary. I became so furious with my
father that I feared what I might say. That he’d hear the accusation and
frustration coating my words and figure out I knew the truth.
So I didn’t dare open my mouth.
The bruising across my neck from the seat belt and doctors speculating
about possible trauma gave me the perfect excuse. My father was only too
happy to accept my silence. He had whisked me back home to a life I no
longer recognized. A life under virtual lock and key.
Days turned into weeks turned into months.
The one time each day I could be alone beyond the walls of my
father’s home was during my morning coffee run. Each morning, I was
allowed to go get coffee—with supervision, of course. Nop, the goon
assigned to keep tabs on me, had quit following me inside after the first
couple of months on my daily errand. He stood outside on his phone while I
sat at a table with my breakfast and contemplated how to escape the
clutches of a mafia life I now hated.
I would have run away if things had been that simple, but they never
were. The issue was my  brother. I couldn’t leave him behind, but
getting him to come with me would be a challenge. He idolized my father.
Always had. Even if Dad allowed us to be alone together unobserved,
convincing  vegas would be a monumental task. The dilemma plagued me
every single day. I’d been biding my time for the right opportunity, but after
six months of constant supervision, I was growing more worried by the day
that my chance would never come.
“Hey, macau. The usual?” The kind older gentleman behind the
counter waved when I entered. The morning crew at the coffee shop all
knew me by name, though I never talked to them. I’d only had to write out
the explanation for my silence once, which was a relief. They’d been very
understanding and did all the talking for me.
I smiled and nodded. After paying at the counter, I took a seat as far
from the door as I could get and took out my current read. My phone was
monitored, so I rarely used it, even to quell boredom. I’d never been a big
reader before, but lately, it had become my favorite escape. I was only a fewpages into a chapter when a masculine voice spoke behind me.

“You shouldn’t keep such an obvious routine. Hasn’t anyone ever told
you that?”
I couldn’t see him but knew the comment was directed at me. While
the nature of his observation should have alarmed me, it was the seductive
way his deep voice feathered across the back of my neck that made my
spine stiffen.
Slowly, I turned to peer at the man who sat behind me and tried to
remember how to breathe when my gaze collided with the blackest eyes I’d
ever seen. A deep black so radiant it hypnotized like those fish down at the
bottom of the ocean that dangled brilliant lights to distract their prey before
swallowing them whole. Even the shadow cast by his prominent brow
couldn’t dull the richness of color.
A full twenty seconds passed before the meaning behind his words
slashed through my stupor and yanked me back to rational thought.
How did he know I kept a routine?
I most certainly would have noticed if this man was a regular in the
café. Even without his mesmerizing eyes, he wasn’t the sort you could
forget. Cloaked in an air of power and privilege, his presence demanded
attention and respect. Maybe even fear. It was carved in the angular cut of
his jaw and the commanding way he carried himself. He was a beautiful
predator, and he’d been watching me. Why? For how long? And how had I
never noticed?
Unnerved, I turned back around and decided to ignore him, unsure
what else to do.
“But then again, maybe not so predictable.”
My eyes snagged on the page. I should have known a man like him
wouldn’t accept rejection.
“Seems like every book I ever see in a boys’s hands is a romance,
setting unrealistic expectations of some perfect fairy-tale life in their heads.
But that’s not what you’re reading, is it?”
My book was about murder. A mystery novel to help keep my mind
occupied rather than dwelling on my problems. I liked romance as much as
the next boy but needed something darker and more compelling. Something
more relatable to the state of my life.
Unsure what else to do, I took out the notepad I kept with me at all
times. I planned to jot a note explaining that I couldn’t speak in the hopes