Secrets in the snow

Disgraced

                   

Allyn had done this a hundred to one times. Bag on head, out of the van, in the lift and then face to face with the man he loathed. His father.

Niccolo Bianchi. the opposite of Allyn. A stoic shrewd man with a face made from stone and a name that was so widely feared, even a whisper would cause shops to close for the rest of the week. Growing up, Allyn had known very little of his father, yet he still looked up to him and aspired to be everything his father was. Although, as he grew older and his intentions became clearer, Allyn realised that he wanted to study the arts, learn about the history of his country and not just become the prince of an immoral mafia.

Allyn heard the lift doors slide open, closely followed by footsteps and a rhythmic hymn of wheels turning. Obviously, he hadn't woken up early enough so his father's men had to result in putting him in a wheelchair. Allyn clenched his fists and tried to move his arms, only to find that he had been strapped down onto the arms of the chair. Undoubtedly because the men were just as afraid of him as they were his father, this again was all down to Allyn's upbringing. He was raised to become the king of the mafia, he was taught how to fight and make deals. How to shoot a gun and kill a man with one blow.

A sudden stop and shuffle of footsteps let Allyn know he was in his father's office. Allyn slowed his breathing and cautiously opened his eyes to the itchy cover of the burlap sack his head had been covered with. The air around him was stuffy and nauseating, causing him to choke on his own saliva.

"Boys, he's awake take it off and let me see what damage you caused Roberto" the slimy voice belonged to Allyn's father. He could tell because he had the wheezy breathing that he always got after a long smoke with his Cuban cigars.

The sack was pulled of Allyn's face causing stings around all the open cuts on his cheeks. Wincing, Allyn fluttered his eyes to adjust to the light of his father's bright airy office. Underneath the wheelchair was a plastic sheet. Allyn kept his head to the side so that he wouldn't have to face the monster of a father he had.

"Roberto, go get yourself a bottle of wine. That's one good punch you got, let's hope it knocked some sense into this son of mine"

"What do you want this time" Allyn groaned accusingly.

The plastic shifted underneath his father's feet as he paced towards him. Allyn turned to face the scarred and wrinkled face his father had earned after years of being the king of the mafia. A patterned tattoo poked its way above his collar. This tattoo symbolised the mafia family. The tattoo each king was given after gaining his throne.

"I want to see if my son has gained some sense" his breath smelled of the expensive whiskey he kept in his top drawer alongside his revolver and poison. All things he used before he would kill someone and spill their blood on the pristine white marble floor.

"Your son wants nothing to do with you." Allyn retorted

"Well then he's not my son! And he doesn't deserve to wear the Bianchi name!" his drunkenness left him swaying as he staggered back towards his desk. "I should have killed you that day. But your mother begged me to spare your life, and I did. I was a fool then" he paused as he walked around his desk, pulling open his top drawer and slamming his revolver on the leather top of the desk. "I will give you two months to tie all your loose ends and come back. If you are not back then I will find you and kill the person closest to you"

"You're a psychopath! You lying -" Allyn exclaimed screaming out and struggling. A sudden bang interrupted his sentence followed by a ringing in his ears. Allyn gulped down on air as he looked to his right to see his shirt turning red. The middle of the scarlet patch was nearly black as the blood continued to flow out of the bullet wound in his shoulder.

"Boys clean him up, I have a client next" through his blurred vision and numbed sense of his body, Allyn could make out his father waving his hand and two men pull him of the wheel chair and drag him by the heels to an isolation room. Where he would later be visited by a doctor.

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