Silent Scars

CHAPTER 76

The name still hung in the air like smoke.

Graysons.

Kendric sat up, straightening instinctively as that one word sent a ripple through the air. He didn’t fully grasp the weight of the name. There was something ancient and dark in it, a history carved too deep into the bones of the family. He had heard enough whispers over the years to know that this wasn’t just a name. It was a warning. And as soon as it dropped, he saw the change in Leonardo. The sudden coldness, like a door slamming shut in the middle of a conversation that had never been finished.

Luca didn’t remember the full picture, but he knew that face. The way Domain had looked when he’d returned, lost, distant, like a part of him had been taken. Luca had tried to bring him back, tried to revive the spark of the friend he had once known. But Domain had become a ghost, a shell, and Luca had lost him for years.

A piece of Domain, of his light, had died that day.

And now, as the name rang in the air, Luca couldn’t help but feel the same familiar tension. He noticed the small change in Domain’s posture.

The subtle tightening of his jaw. The tightening of his fists, as if his body were preparing for something it wasn’t ready to face.

And the worst part? Luca had seen this before. He’d seen it in Domain’s eyes when he returned all those years ago. That same silence. That same ghostly calm.

And it made Luca's stomach twist.

Leonardo’s eyes were shadowed. The memories came rushing back to him.

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Their father never cared. Not in the way a father should.

Always drunk, always somewhere else, lost in his own chaos while the rest of them were left picking up the broken pieces he scattered behind.

When Domain was taken, he didn’t even flinch.

Victor had kidnapped Domain. Made the threat clear, give him a share of the business, or he’d kill the boy.

And their father?

He didn’t rage, didn’t shout, didn’t even flinch. Instead, he leaned back, took a swig from his bottle, and scoffed.

“Domain got himself kidnapped? Then he’s too weak to be one of us. Let him go. One less hassle.”

That’s all he said.

One less hassle.

Not a son.

Not blood.

Just a discarded piece in a game he was tired of playing.

So he didn’t fight. Didn’t send men. Didn’t negotiate.

He saw it as a blessing.

In his eyes, Domain was a failed son. Not someone to rescue, but someone to cut loose.

And Leonardo, he was just eleven.

Eleven.

A child who should’ve been playing soccer in the yard or doing homework at the kitchen table, not standing in front of a father who reeked of whiskey, begging for the life of his little brother.