19 years ago…
It’s you or him.
Those were the words that broke me.
… I had no choice.
Blood drips from my chin, pooling in the crimson streams that flow over the stained cement below.
Luca Tassotti’s corpse twitches at my feet. The light has gone from his eyes—and what little light remains in mine threatens to follow close behind… but not because I’m injured.
Physically, I’m fine. My body may be on fire, but I got the better of the big Italian teenager.
It’s my soul that really hurts.
Sure, Luca was a cruel monster. A serial killer in the making. A terror to the maids of this mansion and a bully who got his kicks out of making me even more miserable than I already was, but I never thought of killing him, not seriously… not until I was thrown into this cellar and given that chilling ultimatum. It’s you or him.
There was no mercy in the statement. Either I was going to turn into a killer or I was going to be killed.
I couldn’t stand for the latter. My family was still out there somewhere, and the thought of leaving them behind before I could say my final goodbyes tore at my heart until I became the very savage I’ve been trying to fight off.
If I was ever going to see anyone I loved again, I would have to survive this nightmare… and take Luca’s life.
It didn’t matter that he had six years on me and almost a foot in height. The burly Italian was soft from his time spent above ground, on the main floor, being treated almost like a regular member of the D’Ignoti crime family.
He may not have been blood-related to those who ran this organization, but he had Italian lineage and that meant, to them, he was more human than I could ever be.
But Luca was never grateful. While I was locked up like an Irish dog, he kept pushing his boundaries until he stepped over the line.
One night, in a drunken fit, he went after the boss’s most prized whore. He cut her up so bad that they eventually had to pull the plug. Three days later, she was dead and Luca was screwed.
First, it cost him a week in the hole. Then, it put him in front of me, in the cellar where they hold the dog fights.
Whether this was supposed to be a lesson, a punishment or pure entertainment, was hard to tell. Either way, our captors crowded around us and placed their bets.
An eighteen-year-old Italian lug—weakened from seven nights in a dark cell—pitted against a wild twelve-year-old Irish kid. The smart money would have been on him. But I’ve been overcoming expectations my entire life.
In the end, I was quicker. I was smarter. And I was far more desperate.
Thoughts of Dad teaching me the ropes flashed through my mind as I side-stepped Luca’s heavy blows. Memories of play-fighting with my two younger brothers focused my swings and stifled my fear as we wrestled to the ground. Desire to be held by Mom again allowed me to take advantage of an opening.
But my mind went blank as I tore Luca’s throat open with my teeth.
Now, I’m numb. Too numb even for tears—as if I’d ever let them see me cry. All that occupies my mind is a dull ringing sound—that is, until a frigid hand falls on my shoulder and the devil’s wicked laugh breaks through the dead chill.
“You did well, Brutus. Now, it’s time for your reward…”
Cold grey clouds drift over the valley graveyard.
From my place atop this hill, I can just barely make out the few frozen shapes below. My two younger brothers, Nolan and Shane, shiver on either side of Dad, who has his head hung low and his hands clasped together in prayer.
Despite their closeness, they each look as lonely as I feel. There’s someone missing from their little circle. And it’s not just me anymore.
Mom isn’t standing with the boys as they huddle around a wooden coffin.
Dread catches in the back of my throat. The bile is thick with realization. For the first time since I was taken, I’m not concerned about crying. I just want to be with my family again.
Shutting my eyes, I try to remember Mom’s soothing voice. She would always tell me it was okay to cry. I’m only a kid, after all.
But Mom is dead.
No.
She can’t be. Someone else is in that box. Mom is just running late.
When the cold steel of my captor’s gun digs into my temple, I know I’m only lying to myself. Why would I be brought to anyone else’s funeral?
It’s been a year since I was taken hostage by my father’s cruelest rival. Mob boss Ciro D’Ignoti. I was collateral to ensure that my family would never attempt to rise up against him after he betrayed us. So far, it’s worked. I haven’t been outside the walls of his prison compound since the day I was dragged behind them. But today, he’s brought me to this graveyard. And I know why.
To rub it in.
He won.
We lost.
And soon enough, I’ll become his beast.
When that happens, my family won’t have anyone else left to mourn. Even now, a year after I was taken from them, only three Kilpatricks remain together.
One by one, my brothers lay flowers atop the coffin, solemnly paying their final respects. I desperately want to join them. But I know I won’t be allowed to. This is no reward. I’m being tortured. Publicly.
“Who do you think is in that box?” Ciro taunts. His brutal question slices through the rain and cuts down my neck. Finally, after all of this time, he’s gotten me to hang my heavy head. But I don’t answer. He hasn’t broken me completely. Not yet. “Answer me, Brutus.”
“… That’s not my name.”
The gun digs deeper into my skin. It doesn’t feel so cold against the hot tears blurring my vision.
“What is your name then?”
“Aiden Kilpatrick.”
A foot catches me behind the knee and I’m shoved into the mud. Despite my best intentions, a cry of pain escapes me.
“Wrong,” Ciro hisses.
The commotion catches the attention of my family below. Through the agony, I hear my father’s voice. “Aiden!?”
Guns rattle behind me as Ciro’s men prepare to annihilate the last of the Kilpatrick clan.
“Don’t hurt them, please,” I beg.
“Your father must be punished,” Ciro says. “Just as you are, when you forget your name.”
“Forgive him,” I plead. “Punish me instead.”
“And why should I show you Irish savages any mercy?”
“… Because my mom is dead. We’re at her funeral.” The misery of knowing I’m right is pure torture.
I don’t look up, but Ciro’s cruel smile manages to seep behind my closed eyelids as he pounds down the final nail in my coffin. “Clever boy.”
“Aiden?”
Dad.
I’ve dreamed of seeing him again since the day I was taken, but my gaze stays locked on the ground. If I look up, it could mean the end of us both.
Ciro chuckles. “We’ve renamed him, Rian. The boy is named Brutus now, like the traitor he is. Call him by that name, then maybe he might acknowledge you.”
Don’t do it.
There’s nothing in this world I want more than to run into my dad’s arms and forget about this whole nightmare, but I know that the moment Ciro gets what he wants, he’ll have little reason to keep us alive anymore. He’s told me as much in his darker moments.
My father doesn’t oblige. “If you hurt him…” The growl comes like distant thunder. It makes my scars burn. Too late.
“I’ll do as I please with my hostage,” Ciro says, keeping the barrel of his gun pressed against my temple. “If you wanted to tell me what to do, then you shouldn’t have handed him over…”
“I did no such thing!” Dad’s thunder isn’t so distant anymore.
Ciro’s gun digs deeper into my skin. “Easy now, barbaro.” The umbrella no longer covers me. I’m glad, because it hides my tears. Don’t let them know how sad you are. Don’t give them what they want. “Your father gave you up to save his own skin. Didn’t he?”
The increased pressure of his barrel makes it clear that Ciro wants me to respond. “Yes,” I say, to protect my family.
“What is your name?”
“Brutus.”
I can practically hear my father’s heart break.
“Have some mercy, Ciro.”
“Mercy is for the weak.” The devil snaps, before gathering himself again. “Anyway, I brought him here, didn’t I? Why don’t you say your last goodbyes.” He’s no longer talking to me, but it’s unclear who he’s telling my father to say goodbye to. Mom or me.
“This isn’t over,” Dad growls, but he’s broken. The fear and the helplessness shaking in his voice is foreign to me. The realization of just how trapped I am hits my heart like a sledgehammer. My face is in the dirt by the time I’m done keeling over.
“Not yet,” Ciro responds. “But only because I choose to make you suffer.”
A thick silence fills the humid air between the former friends and partners. From somewhere deep inside of me, I find the strength to deliver hope to my father. “Triquetra,” I mumble under my breath.
Whether or not my father hears me through the rain is impossible to know, but I swear I hear him mumble the word back to me.
Triquetra.
Believe.
Belief is all I have left now. Ciro D’Ignoti can take my freedom, he can take my family, he can take my life, but I can’t let him have my hope.
When the guns rattle again behind me and my father’s footsteps reluctantly shrink away, I hold onto hope. It’s so small that it fits into the palm of my hand, but it’s still there. A ray of sunshine that Mom left me. I close my fist around it and squeeze, desperate to keep the light from slipping away.
But Mom is dead.
The ray gets smaller.
“You did well today, boy,” Ciro says when we’re back in the limo. “If only you could have seen the look on your father’s face.” The chuckle that escapes him is one of pure cruelty.
I’m soaked, but I’m also empty. The tears I shed in the rain stain my cheeks like the mud that cakes my knees.
Even the eventual warmth of Ciro’s mansion hardly helps my cold shivering spirit—not that I have a chance to get used to the comfort. The devil isn’t done with me yet.
“You’ll be spending tonight in the hole,” he states, handing his coat to a servant.
I didn’t think there was anything left in me to kill, but he always manages to find something more. A whole new wave of agony batters down my walls.
“Why!?” I ask, forgetting my position. The hole is torture. A dark dank cell in the basement. It’s where I’m sent when I act out. Cold, black, inescapable. No windows. No light. No hope. And tonight, it will be haunted by Luca’s ghost.
Mom’s ray gets even dimmer. Fear rocks me. She’s gone now. If I lose her ray, she’ll truly be lost forever, and so will I.
“You forgot your name earlier,” Ciro says. Two giant guards step up beside me. “If you’re to be civilized, you’ll need to remember such important details. The hole will give you time to think. To remember why you’re here. To remember who betrayed you and why. I’m your friend, Brutus. I’m your only friend. The sooner you realize that the better.”
“You’re evil.” It slips out of me like the tears.
“You’re not wrong,” Ciro shrugs, a raggedy smile creasing his gaunt cheeks. “But so is everybody else. Your father was evil too, until I stripped him of his power. Now he’s not strong enough to be evil. Do not mistake that for goodness, boy. Your father gave you away to protect what little power he had left. I made sure it was the last evil act he was capable of making. Really, you should be thanking me.”
“I will never thank you.”
“You will. And someday you will work for me. I’ll give you enough power to be evil, and you will spread darkness and pain and death wherever I send you. Understand?”
My grief twists me into nots. Everything hurts. My head, my heart, my ray of hope. But then it all freezes. The pain numbs as something else worms its way up through my gut. Anger. It takes center stage. I manage to look Ciro in the eyes.
If I was big, I’d kill you.
He seems amused by my defiance. “Let that rage keep you warm in the dark. If you’re still alive when I let you out, perhaps I’ll give you another idiot to release it on.”
I’m shoved into my cell and the door is slammed shut. Darkness overcomes me. It seeps into my bones and coats my heart. The pain and the anguish and the tears freeze for the fury.
Mom is dead.
Her ray of hope turns to ice behind my chest. Blue fire builds in its place. I’ve been stuck in this darkness before, but never like this. Things will never be the same.
Mom left me. I didn’t get to say goodbye.
But I know it’s not Dad’s fault. I believe. Ciro may think he’s clever, but he’ll never break me, even if I have to turn to stone. He wants to transform me into his personal killer. His harbinger of death. He’ll get his wish. I’ll take any life he asks, and then when I’m big and strong, I’ll take his.
But not before I make him suffer.
At least Ciro got one thing right. My name isn’t Aiden anymore. But it’s not Brutus, either.
In the darkness of the hole, I’m changed. If I ever make it out of here, I won’t go by either of those names. I’ll become vengeance incarnate. The devil. I’ll be the Celtic savage that Ciro thinks I am. A monster that can’t be controlled.
And when the bloody tables have turned and he’s begging for mercy, I’ll tell him that I have none left. He stole it all from me.
I will be evil. I will be brutal. I will be his worst nightmare.
And I will be merciless.
