Mafia Guard Loves the Daughter

Prologue If love was enough, It would have saved you. -unknown The ranch house stood alone, a stubborn outpost on a wild stretch of land. Once meant to be a bustling family ranch, it had long since surrendered to silence—the barn sagged, haunted by memories, its bones creaking with every restless wind. He eyed the azalea bushes clustered along the porch, watching petals torn away by the same wind that threatened to flatten the barn. His gaze kept drifting to the raw patch of earth near the flowers, garden tools jutting up like gravestones in the fresh dirt. He blinked. Rami loved gardening, but the extra pair of gloves on the porch steps hinted at someone else’s presence—someone new, someone curious enough to dig into the past. “What are you doing here?” Her voice still sent a jolt through his veins, every syllable stirring old warmth and dangerous memories. He let them crash over him, refusing to turn around—afraid the sight of her might pull him under for good. “I know she’s not here, Ram.” He smiled. The smile she owned. He turned to look at the much smaller form of the woman with a gun. He barely flinched at the sight of its barrel directed toward him. “I kept my promise.” “Not well enough,” she frowned. Dark raven hair that shone blue under sunlight was tied in a messy bun on her head. Her arms were in a perfect stance as she held the two-barrel shotgun with the butt on her shoulder. “Didn’t we agree to never see each other again?” “We did, but I am here to drop something off.” “We don’t need charity.” “It’s not charity,” He took one long drag on his cigarette before throwing it to the dirt ground and snuffing it with his Florentine leather shoes. A family he owns made the expensive things. “It’s someone who needs your charity.” Rami’s cheek twitched. A sign that she’s interested. A tell that he knows she has. “Where is it?” “A he.” He snapped his fingers, and the dark-tinted sedan on the driveway suddenly had its door opened. A pre-pubescent boy stepped out of the expensive luxury car and stared straight at Rami. “He needs a family.” Rami’s shoulders loosened. Strife and concern marred her features for the boy. She frowned. A sad frown that still irks him to this day. “What did you do to him? He looks…” “Strong,” he patted the boy’s shoulders, and the boy obediently stepped towards Rami with a passive expression. His Rami would need only a glance before welcoming the boy—the way she always did, with kindness that softened anyone who came close. The jagged edges she carried were his legacy, a gift he wished he could take back. Something he is both proud and guilty of. She lowered the weapon and seemed to try to hide it behind her as the boy approached. A hesitating hand reached towards the boy’s shoulder, but he didn’t flinch nor indicate any discomfort when it landed on him. The boy was only two years older than his daughter, but the difference was as stark as black and white. This boy learned well enough to earn this position. He made sure of it. “I’m sorry. Are you okay?” Rami asked. Searching for fresh wounds or bruises. Anything that would indicate he had hurt the boy. When she found none, she smiled. “Hi, I’m Rami.” “Keep the boy. He’ll keep both of you safe.” She threw a glare in his direction. Her animosity was volatile despite the distance between them. He ignores that one heavy beat of his heart and chooses to focus on its continuing beats. “How despicable are you to trade in humans?” “I don’t do that, Ram.” “Then what do you call him, huh? A stray that suddenly landed on your lap?” “Actually,” He licked his lips. The phantom taste of Rami’s lips reignited his senses. How long ago had he kissed her? How long ago were they happy? “He is an orphan left in one of the houses in the old country. We think his father is one of my men, but who is to say?” “We’re living in modern times. DNA tes—” “Now, we can’t do that.” A knowing smirk unknowingly stretched his face. The boy’s brow twitches, but his face remains passive. Rami pursed her lips. Her face is tight, as is her whole body. He knows he disgusts her now. She hates him enough to want to kill him with that gun, and he wouldn’t mind if it weren’t for his men wanting to exact revenge if she does. He'll let her kill him, but he would never let her get hurt. “You’re…despicable.” “Yeah, Ram. I am. We are. So, keep that boy and keep living this life. It wouldn’t hurt if you took some money from the card I gave you and did some---” “No,” It was her turn to cut him off. Rami was like that; she’s not that kind to just back down. “We’re fine on our own. I would keep the boy and raise him and try to fix what you broke.” He nodded. Breathing in as much air as he can while she’s in his presence. Pretending that he won’t be devastated the moment he steps into that vehicle, and when they drive off. God knows when the last time they’d see each other again. It had been five years. “Don’t be too stubborn that it ruins her life.” He fought the urge to bite his tongue off, but he couldn't help his insidious tongue. “You are selfish enough, Ram, to ruin her life without my help.” “…” she nods back. Calm and unaffected, “Never come back here, Damian. Never be near enough that she sees you or even knows your name. We’re happy,” Her lips slowly formed into the saddest smile he had ever seen. She wasn’t sad for him; she pitied him. “My girl deserves to never know what you are or what you’re like.” His lip twitched. He pivoted on his heel, forcing his heart to stay caged as he walked away—never daring to look back at the life he almost had. In those few steps, he built and destroyed whole futures: waking beside Rami, watching Ehryl grow, making the ranch a true home. Every step tore a piece from that imagined happiness, leaving it behind like footprints in the dust. He sat in the back of his car. His driver and aide were in the front with sombre gazes as they quietly drove out of her driveway and into the main road. He looked out of the window. His jaw clenched. He didn’t know it, but he kept toying with his wedding band. A marriage he thinks of every day. “It’s her, sir,” his aide said. The driver subtly slowed as the aide tapped on his shoulder. His whole body tensed. He couldn’t help but stare at the girl walking in the street with a backpack as big as her torso. Her hair was tied high and tight on her skull. Her eyes were unfocused as she walked towards the driveway he had just left. Not a single feature of the child showed that she inherited anything from him. No bitterness, not even the family nose. It was all just pure goodness and sweetness that he couldn't believe could come from him. She's still the same fresh breath of air he had when he held her in the hospital. He truly ached then. A torture he deserved. When she was out of sight, he slumped back to his seat and heavily breathed out. “Are you sure you don’t want to know anything about her, sir?” “Shut up and keep driving,” He crossed his legs and took a glass of scotch from the decanter. “Time to fly home.” Anything as sweet and good needs someone in the shadows to keep it that way.