The Sins Of The Father

"You belong to the ghosts now." The memory of the prison warden echoed in Dante Vargas's mind while the heavy rain washed over his scarred face. He stood across the street from The Onyx Club and let the freezing downpour soak right through his dark jacket. Ten years of his life had been swallowed by concrete walls and iron bars for the people who were about to walk out of those doors. He tasted exhaust fumes and cheap copper in the rain while he kept his gaze locked on the glowing entrance. His name used to be carved into the foundation of that building before his sacrifice meant nothing at all. The neon sign bled deep red light onto the wet asphalt to illuminate a life that someone else had stolen from him. He remembered the exact scent of Elena's perfume on the night he let the police drag him away in chains. He remembered the promise she made to wait for him and the tears that fell from her eyes before the squad car drove away. Those memories had kept him sane in a maximum security cell but tonight they felt like glass tearing through his chest. The agonizing betrayal had festered in his soul for a decade while he survived riots and solitary confinement in a cage. He had built his body into an instrument of war using nothing but concrete blocks and sheer hatred. He had promised himself he would return to claim his throne and the woman who was supposed to rule by his side. A custom silver Bentley pulled up to the curb and stopped right in front of the club. Dante felt his jaw tighten until a phantom ache flared deep inside the bone where it had been shattered a decade ago. He watched the driver open the rear door and step back to make way for the usurper. Victor Carmine stepped out into the rain wearing a bespoke suit that cost more than the bounty he had placed on Dante's head. The man looked like an untouchable god with his polished smile and the arrogant way he carried himself in the city he stole. Victor reached his hand back into the luxury car and waited for his ultimate prize to emerge. Dante stopped breathing as the woman he went to prison to protect took the hand of his worst enemy. Elena stepped into the neon light looking sharper and colder than the girl he remembered from all those years ago. She wore a tailored suit and an unreadable expression that broke something fundamental inside Dante's chest. He curled his fists deep in his pockets until his fingernails broke the skin of his palms and drew blood. He had bled in a cage for ten years so she could survive instead of marrying the bastard who put him there. She did not smile as she walked by Victor's side like a queen chained to a ghost in a kingdom of lies. "Look at how perfect they look together," Dante whispered to himself in the empty shadows of the alleyway. The bitter words tasted like poison on his tongue. He felt a suffocating weight press down on his lungs as he watched Victor place a possessive hand on her lower back. He wanted to scream her name across the street and watch the composure shatter from her perfect face. He wanted to see if there was even a fraction of the woman he loved left inside that designer shell. He knew he could not storm across the street and tear Victor apart with his bare hands right now. He had returned to this city with nothing but a thirst for vengeance and the brutal strength he built in the prison yard. He needed time to gather his outcasts and burn Victor's empire to ash brick by stolen brick. The driver closed the rear door and returned to the front seat while the couple moved toward the entrance. Dante watched the heavy double doors close behind them and sever his connection to the woman he still loved. The absolute finality of the moment washed over him and left a hollow void where his heart used to beat. He stood in the darkness for a long time while the rain continued to pound against the cracked pavement. The street grew quiet as the patrons funneled into the club to escape the miserable weather. Dante lingered in the alleyway longer than a smart man should when hunting in enemy territory. His mind kept flashing back to the cold indifference on Elena's face and the crushing reality of her betrayal. He needed to find K-Dog and begin the slow process of taking back the streets from the bottom up. Dante turned to leave the alleyway and merge back into the anonymous flow of the city before he drew unwanted attention. A heavy footstep splashed in a puddle just a few yards behind him and stopped his retreat. The sudden noise cut through the rhythm of the falling rain. Dante froze in place and let his senses map the space around him in the pitch black alley. He heard the distinct rustle of wet leather and the steady breathing of a man who was used to standing in the rain. Someone from the club perimeter had noticed the lurker in the shadows and decided to investigate. He kept his hands in his pockets and relaxed his shoulders to look like a random drunk trying to find his way home. Dante turned around with a slow and calculated movement that betrayed none of his lethal intent. The silhouette of a broad man stood blocking the only exit back out to the main street. "You have been standing out here staring at the boss for twenty minutes," the guard said with a rough and demanding voice. He took a menacing step forward to trap Dante against the brick wall. Dante recognized the type of muscle Victor employed these days and felt a familiar coldness settle in his veins. The man was young and arrogant with no memory of the enforcer who used to paint these very streets with blood. The guard took another step closer to Dante and pulled something metallic from his coat pocket. "The club is closed to trash like you," the guard spat while he closed the distance between them. He gripped the object in his hand with tight knuckles. "I asked you a question and I expect an answer." Dante remained silent while he calculated the exact amount of force needed to shatter the man's windpipe. The rain washed the dirt from the asphalt but it could never wash the rot from the people who served Victor Carmine. The guard stepped out of the shadows and let the ambient street light reveal the weapon in his hand. He drew a serrated blade and pointed it right at Dante's chest with a confident smirk. The steel edge caught the red glow of the neon sign above them. "Who are you working for?" the guard demanded. He pressed the tip of the blade closer to Dante.