Elite - Book I

Prologue

The sound of banging on the front door woke her up from her nap. The little six-year-old got up stretching. The banging on the door had gotten louder. "I'm coming!" She exclaimed.

She walked over to the door. As soon as she turned the knob, about five tall men came rushing in. All five, armed.

She knew that it was dangerous. She remembered her father speaking to her mother about the dangers in the world. And she had listened to every word.

There was once a time when she overheard her father and her brother, Luke, talking. "You're going to do everything to protect this family. There might come a day when I will not be able to. I'm afraid it's getting near. Protect Luxe most of all." Her father had told her sibling.

Luciano, her father was never the same after his wife, Lauren's death. He would spend his time drinking, smoking, doing drugs. Or sometimes he would lock himself in his bedroom.

She snapped out of her thoughts when she saw one of he men staring at her. He had dark blue eyes. So dark almost black. She quickly ran back to the couches and hid behind them, watching them, thinking about the man who had gotten a glimpse of her, but she ignored it.

They wore dark clothing and boots. All of them except for one. He wore a black tuxedo with a white shirt and a tie underneath the tux. He had black hair streaked with silver. He must've been the leader.

She caught a glimpse of one of the men's neck. A dark mark was peaking up his collarbone. It was a tattoo. Her father had a few. She remembered him showing her, a sleeve of ink. She had always been fascinated by tattoos.

"Where's Luciano?!" One shouted.

Her dad had been in the room watching a football game and drinking, for the past hour and Luke was outside playing with his gray-eyed friend that Luxe could never remember the name of. What does my father have to do with these people? She thought. Her father had been involved in a lot of things. She had just never really gotten used to it.

If she wanted to tell someone about her father's job, he would take her into the room and hit her.

"I don't know Sterling! Ask the little girl!" someone said. They were talking about her. How did they see her? Did they see her now? Her eyes widened in fear of what they might do.

"Look for him. Don't hurt the little girl. It's not her fault that she was born to a fucking rapist," Said the guy with the silver hair whose name was apparently Sterling.

She didn't know what he meant. She had to get out. Maybe they would let her.

"Found him!" Said one of the men. He had a bald head and ratlike eyes.

He brought her father from his room. He held him with one hand by the neck, and the other at his hands, behind his back. What were they going to do? Not that she cared anymore. He wasn't a real father. He didn't tuck her away at night or sing her to sleep like her mother used to. She had learned to depend on herself only. She didn't need anyone else.

She watched as the men forced her drunk, stumbling, father down on his knees. This wasn't the first time something like this happened. Normally, her father would be trying to fight them off and giving them all the money he had, but today, he was too drunk to do any of that.

Once he was on his knees, the leader, Sterling pulled a pistol out. "Would you care to tell me why you did it?" he asked with anger in his vibrating eyes.

"I-I needed money." Her father replied. His voice was trembling. She had never seen him like this. What was going on?

"That's not a good enough answer." Said Sterling, his voice firm and steady. "You know what I do to people who don't give me the answer I want?"

He didn't answer. He didn't even look up at him.

She watched behind the couches. It was hard to look away. Even though she felt no love for her father, tears silently streamed down her cheeks. She wiped them away. Tears are a sign of weakness. She thought.

He leaned in close to his ear. "I torture them until they beg for their death." He hissed. "But lucky for you, you're not a person. You're a fucking pig." And without any trace of hesitation, he pulled the trigger. The six-year-old sat there with her innocent, doe eyes wide open and she watched the life silently drain out of her father's eyes.

She couldn't take it anymore. She desperately screamed.Anyone who might've heard her screams would think she was in physical pain, but her pain was emotional. As she screamed and cried, she could hear the faint footsteps now getting louder. Get away from me, she wanted to tell them. Everything seemed distant, and far away. They had grabbed a hold of her. She realized the man with the silver streaked hair, had brought her to his chest like her mother would've. He patted her back gently and soothingly, something her father would've never done.

She didn't know these people. Were they going to kill her too? What about her brother? Panicked flooded her chest, her breaths became short, but fast. She cried, kicked, and screamed. It wasn't long before she gave up and relaxed into his chest. She cried and cried, into Sterling. Not for the father she had, nor for his death but for the one she wished she had. The family she wanted. The one she knew she would never have. She had no one left to look after her. No one.