Scion

1. The Ambush's Aftermath

Harper^
Harper's POV

I stepped over the countless bodies littering the floor of the once upmarket hotel, wrinkling my nose in disgust. The once white carpets, were now stained an ugly red.

My men had obliterated the enemy in my name, and I knew father would be pleased. The silent stench of death pulsated through the room, choking the few remaining survivors and sending them to whatever was next.

Walking through the maze of dead, all mutilated beyond recognition, was not unusual and was rather a regular occurrence. My father gave me such tasks to reassure himself that I was worthy of the honor of leading the D'Amodice. I almost gagged at that word, honor. These men, this life they have no honor, no dignity, but then again neither do I, but at least I am able to see it.

I noticed Jack, my second in command as I rounded a corner not at all surprised that the hallway had recently become home to more dead.

'Sir,' Jack began only to earn a menacing glare from myself, 'I mean, Harper, the place is clear, we've searched it top to bottom and no members of the Matsa survived the attack.'
He spoke with a smile, Jack had grown with such violence, as had I, but where I was reluctantly forced into it, he willingly participated in it and relished in doing so.

'Good.' I replied with a firm nod, father would indeed be pleased with our result.
'Call the clean up and tell the men to be ready for possible retaliation'

Jack just nodded before watching me climb into the "company" car. It was black of course, with tinted windows for privacy and the driver knew to ask no questions, instead simply starting the engine and driving away from Jack's increasingly small figure, speeding towards the D'Amodice household. Where the devil awaited us.

The house itself was not a house at all, but a mansion. Father used to joke that each brick represented a defeated enemy, as a young child I took it for nothing other than such. However looking back I now understand how true his statement may have been.

Bright lights lined either side of the driveway, guiding the chauffeur down the familiar road. The property was more than fit for royalty, but I suppose that's what we were, the rulers of death. On the grounds there was a stables, a woods and of course a pool among other facilities that I can't be bothered to mention. That was the respectable side, the part of the house that father liked to flaunt to his many fancy guests.

On the other side though, it was dangerous. Father had funded, built and raised both his children in a war zone.

When we were young he insisted that both my brother and I learn to protect ourselves, and so built an entire gym and weapons facility beneath the house itself. It was a dark place which contrasted with the light upper house, mice and rats scurried through the tunnels leading to it and a man permanently lived down there, I don't know why.

Father had also made sure to build it next to the cells beneath the house were he kept and tormented enemies, not a minute went by that you didn't hear a tortured scream reverberate through the walls. A classic scare mongering technique that must have worked on us as children.

Walking in, I heard the familiar tap of my shoes on the marble floors, emphasizing the emptiness of the place. My stepmother had insisted on modern design and my father didn't care as long as the place reflected a lavish lifestyle, so we were left with a cold, echoey hall as she had also insisted on open-plan.

Making my way up the grand staircase to one of the offices my father often worked in, I noticed the place was more busy than usual. There must be an event I have yet to be told about because increasing amounts of staff seemed to be rushed and peering over the rail and into the ballroom indicated that my Stepmother has once again decided to hold one of her famous celebratory dances, what we were celebrating was unknown.

By the time my feet had reached the office's front door he was already calling me in. Anxious to hear of our inevitable success.

'Hello sir.' I said as I walked in, he was in his usual position leant back in his chair and his hands crossed over his chest. His face contorted into one of permanent smugness and his lips trapped in a smirk.
He was dressed in his standard suit and tie, a handkerchief rested in his pocket. He was completely clean shaven and his hair was his pride and joy.

Father was an unpredictable man, forever having mood swings, and had anger management issues from the day he was born.

I hated him, but I also respected him.

One thing I had always admired about the man was his ability to control a situation by simply being himself. People listened to him, no matter the order, no matter the command, as if he had some sort of spell over them. I've seen people end their own lives because my father told them to.

He stared at me, waiting for me to go on. Unbelievably, he was a man of few words, strange for a man with such an amount of power. Instead he preferred to use his actions and second in command to speak to those who followed him.

'It was a complete success father, no member of the Matsa survived the attack and even if any had they could not retaliate against my men and win without an army.'

My father did nothing but nod his head and motion for me to leave, odd for him to do but I was grateful to be leaving his presence. Just as I turned to leave however a loud thud echoed centimeters from my head, forcing me to jump back. Turning to my left I saw that he had thrown what seemed to be a knife at me. The blade completely disappeared from view as it was buried to the hilt, right next to where my head had been.

I knew better to turn to him though because he would take it as me questioning him and he always took questions for challenges and he always won. I didn't need to to turn anyway as I could already picture the way his smile had broadened and how his eyes had gained the sadistic glint that violence often gave them.

As I left the room I knocked into my brother Rye, he did nothing more than sneer at me and enter the office I had just left.

Rye and I couldn't be more different; he had brown eyes and brown hair, taking after our father where I took after my mother. He also enjoyed training and weapons and even wanted fathers approval, rushing to take missions and hoping to take over the business one day. My family's bloodlust did somewhat unnerve me sometimes as I was well aware we were far from normal.

Expelling the last of those thoughts from my mind I decided to finally sleep. The sun was already rising, but I hadn't slept and it's important to sleep, especially when expecting an attack.

I just hoped that the day could keep the nightmares at bay.

A/N this book is so exciting, I've never done this beforeeeeee hope you guys enjoyyyyyy.
- Kylo (the fun one) ;)