Salvatore.

Five

|| A few sentences may trigger readers, if they do I ask that you skip over them. ||

The lounge was dark, seemingly empty; shadows cast along the walls. Giving the room and eerie silence, the fireplace blazed; giving heat the to hollow room.
In the corner of the darkness, sitting in an olden style arm chair was Klaus. He was bent over, holding a letter in his hand; from afar he looked as if he were one of the shadows.

Three days had passed since the death of Valentino Salvatore, ex - Don of the Salvatore Empire. Two days since the Dýnami's had been invited to the funeral, much to Klaus' surprise.

As Klaus looked down at the invitation he gripped it tighter in his hand, rage filling every morsel of his body. This was a joke, an insult on his behalf. It was almost as if they had spit in his face themselves.
Who in their right mind would invite their sworn enemy to a funeral? What did the Salvatore's think they would do, sit down and mourn the ex - Don?

Resting back into his chair he sighed, letting out a frustrated groan he hit his head on the back of the chair; trying to figure out how his life managed to get so fúcked up.

That's when the sound of drunken moans brought Klaus out of his daze, pointing his head in the direction of the noise he saw his father walk in the hall with a half naked prostitute on one arm.

"George what the fúck!" Klaus growled, furiously standing up and stalking towards the intoxicated man.
George turned to notice his son, looking at him with a dumb smile on his face; all the while the hooker was feeling him up and whispering dirty words into his ear.

"Son! Kid.. kiddo..." George slurred, stumbling on his feet; his only stable support was the whore and Klaus could only imagine how many men she had touched like that.

"Klaus." He said, gritting his teeth; it was obvious his father had forgotten his name.

"Yes, Klaus; my eldest. My boy!" His father announced, swinging his arm to the side as if he was presenting Klaus to the entire world.

"Can't even bother be sober for a day can you?" He mumbled sarcastically, glaring harshly at his 'father'.

"What was that? I don't appreciate your tone boy. I can be whatever I want to be, I'm the leader of our little gang; and I won't have your disrespect. Especially not in front this hot piece of ass!" He hollered, grabbing the hookers ass.

Rolling his eyes, Klaus went to turn away, having had enough of George and his shit; but that's when he saw the invite to Valentino's funeral be ripped from his hand. Klaus' reflexes made him instinctively reach out for it, but his father held it above his head; acting like a three year old.
Klaus was shorter than the average male, all of his brothers were taller than him, Thea was almost reaching his height. So having this done to him was something his father would do to him since he was a kid.

"Give it back George." Klaus demanded, clearly being fed up with his fathers childish ways.

"What is it boy? A love letter?
Oh no, even better. An invitation? To a funeral? Held by the Salvatore's? Now this sounds interesting, we must go."

"You're not in charge George, you don't get to decide." Klaus said.
But his statement was met with a backhand across the face, it sent Klaus staggering to the floor.