First Murdered

He was going to kill me. I could understand it from his expression. I stared at him, looking straight into his eyes and waiting for death with my head held high, like a real man. A small shadow flickered behind this peasant, and with a warlike cry, Matteo jumped on his back. The gun went off and I flinched as the burning pain went through my body.

The bullet hit much lower than planned. He would have killed me if it wasn't for Matteo. Tears welled up in my eyes, but I jumped out of bed, grabbing a pistol from the nightstand. The attacker raised the barrel at Matteo.

I also raised my weapon, aiming at his head as Cesare and First had taught me, and then fired. Blood filled the whole space, even the shocked face of Matteo. For a moment everything stopped, even my heart, and then everything spun even faster.

The man's body fell forward and would have dragged my brother along with it if he hadn't jumped back at the last moment, still in shock. He blinked at me, then looked at the body. Slowly Matteo looked up, lingering on my belly.

"You have blood." I clutched at the wound in my side, wincing in pain. The hand holding the gun was trembling, but I didn't release it. Shots and screams were still heard from the first floor. I nodded towards the closet.

"Hide there." Matteo frowned.

"Come on," I said sharply.

"No."

I walked towards him, almost fainting from the pain. I grabbed Matteo by the sleeve of his pajamas and pushed him into the closet. He resisted, but I pushed him inside and locked him. Matteo was banging on the door.

"Let me out!" Trembling with anxiety and pain, I quietly went downstairs and went to the living room, from where the noise could be heard. When I entered, my father crouched behind the sofa, firing back at the two attackers. Both had their backs to me. My father looked at me quickly and for a moment I decided not to do anything at all, I hated him, hated the way he punished Matteo, me and even his new wife Nina.

But I raised my hand and fired at one of the attackers. Father took care of the second. The man fell to the floor, clutching his shoulder. His father threw away his gun, and then shot the attacker in both legs. Somewhere in the house a series of shots rang out, and then heavy footsteps were heard. The first one practically stumbled into the room, bleeding from a head wound.

The father frowned. "A mountain of corpses?"

The first nodded. "They got the second one."

"They shouldn't have gone as far as they could," muttered the father. Without a shadow of hesitation, he aimed his pistol at one and fired. I yelped in surprise as the man collapsed to the floor next to me. I've known him all my life.

My legs gave way, the wound throbbed. My father looked at me, taking out his phone, and said into the receiver: "Send for Doc and come here with Durant. Don't bring anyone else until I know who the rat is."

My father came up to me and roughly lifted me to my feet. Holding me straight, he removed my hand from the bleeding wound. My father jabbed a finger at her, and my vision went dark as I twitched in agony. Father shook me.

"Get it together! Don't you dare die here.",My eyes flew open. Father shook his head oh and let me go, from which I again settled on the floor. I leaned on my hands, breathing heavily.

My father left the room, leaving me alone with the attacker, who was groaning as he tried to crawl away. When my father returned, he had a rope with him. He tied the man up, then took out a knife and touched the assailant's forearm with it. He screamed as his father began to cut his skin for profit. It's like peeling an apple. That's what my father always said, but the apple did not scream or beg.

Holding my bleeding belly, I watched what was happening, even as bile rose up in my throat. Father was watching me. I knew that he would punish me if I turned away. The screams rang in my ears and I shuddered. My hands trembled and I hit my cheek on the hard floor. The noise in my ears soon drowned out the outside cries, and then everything went black.

***

The underbosses and captains were waiting in the living room of our estate. Father stood in the middle of the room, he beckoned me to him. All eyes in the room followed me intently as I made my way towards him. I raised my head high, trying to appear taller. I was tall for my age, but the men around me still towered over me. They looked at me like I was something they had never seen before. I stopped right in front of my father.

"Earliest initiation I've ever seen," he said, his voice echoing around the room. "Only eleven years old, and already you are much stronger and more cruel than any father could wish for."

Delight filled my chest. My father never spoke of me with such pride, never showing the slightest hint that Matteo and I were more than a burden. I straightened my shoulders, trying to look like men in black suits and boots.

"Our enemies will whisper your name in fear, son. My blood. My heir. He took out a knife and I held out my hand, knowing what was going to happen. I didn't even flinch when my father cut my hand. He has hurt me countless times in the past, which is what made me so strong today. Every time I flinched, he cut me again and poured lemon juice or salt on the wound until I could hide the pain.

"Born in blood, sworn in blood. I came alive and I will go dead," I said dryly.