The Dark Knight

4. Vendetta

Bosco sat in the shadowed corner of his hideout cave, phone pressed to his ear.

“Kelani, the job starts today. Find them, trace them. I’ll tell you when to make the hit,” he ordered, voice low and deliberate.

“Alright, Bosco… but what about payment?” Kelani asked. His tone was wary. Everyone knew Bosco’s empire had crumbled after the hit. Money was scarce. Few knew he hadn’t been in the tavern that night—most assumed he’d been taken out along with Big Joe. Kelani had been shocked to get his call, but he still wanted assurances.

“It’ll come. You’ll be paid. I’m sorting things out,” Bosco replied quickly.

“Alright, man. But you know the juice makes the mission active,” Kelani pressed.

“You’ll hear from me,” Bosco muttered, exhaling a heavy sigh.

Kelani hung up.

Bosco clenched his fists and stared out the grimy window. Jerry’s hit had burned their empire to the ground. Now the world as he knew it was upside down, and survival meant rebuilding from the ashes.

“Jerry JX…” he growled under his breath. “You started a war. And unlike you, when I get to you, I’ll tie up every loose end. No matter how long it takes… I’m coming for you.”

Five Years Later

Jerry trudged into his home after another long night in the hood. The moment the door shut, his kids came charging toward him, latching onto his legs and squealing for a donkey ride. He grinned, dropped to all fours, and soon they were tumbling over the couch in laughter. The older one, Anthonio, a spirited boy with Jerry’s sharp eyes, tried to climb on his back while the younger, Ben, shy but fierce, clung to his arm.

“Easy, boys,” Lucy called from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. The aroma of stew, fried plantains, and fresh bread filled the air. A soft hum of music played from an old radio perched on the counter, mixing with the excited chaos. “Someone’s going to get squished if you keep this up!”

“Hi, baby,” Jerry murmured, grabbing her arm and pulling her down into his chest. The boys shrieked with delight as he stole a quick kiss, their giggles echoing across the room.

Lucy shook her head, laughing. “You never change. I swear, one day they’re going to topple you over for real.”

“They’ll have to get through me first,” he replied with a grin, ruffling Anthonio’s hair as he scuttled behind him. “Come on, you little monsters. Show me who’s boss.”

They spent the next half hour in a whirlwind of playful chaos. The couch became a battlefield, pillows turned into shields, and laughter was the only weapon. Jerry’s laughter was loud and deep, but beneath it, a shadow lingered. He knew every creak of the door and every footstep outside could carry danger. Still, in this moment, he let himself relax, letting the sound of his children’s laughter fill every corner of the house.

Eventually, Lucy called a truce. “Alright, warriors. Time to wash up. We’re not letting this stew get cold, and I need a little help in the kitchen before it turns into a disaster.”

Jerry lifted both boys in one motion and carried them toward the sink. “Okay, let’s wash these hands, then we help Mommy cook. No cheating with chocolate stains on the walls this time!”

The kitchen became a hive of activity. The boys took turns stirring the stew, tearing vegetables for the salad, and sampling a bit too much of the batter. Jerry guided their little hands, making a game of everything. Flour dusted the counters like soft snow, and Anthonio sneakily tasted a spoonful of stew, earning a playful scold from Lucy.

As they worked together, the conversation drifted naturally to bigger things.

“You know,” Lucy began, chopping onions while the boys played with cookie cutters at the counter, “sometimes I imagine a day when none of this—threats, letters, danger—touches us.”

Jerry’s hands paused over the vegetables. He let out a slow breath. “I want that too,” he said quietly. “But you know me… I see the streets, I know what’s out there. Peace? It’s… fragile.”

Lucy placed a hand over his. “I know, Jerry. But isn’t that why we have faith? Even if the world outside is chaos, we can make our home a sanctuary.”

He smiled faintly, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. “A sanctuary, huh? I’ve built empires, taken hits, lost people… I’m not sure I can believe in true peace. Not fully. But with you, with them…” He gestured at Anthonio and Ben, who were laughing as they tried to catch a rolling ball across the kitchen floor. “It’s worth trying.”

Lucy leaned against him. “We’re trying already. And look at this life we’ve made. Kids, laughter, love. Doesn’t that mean something?”

“It means everything,” Jerry admitted, though his eyes were thoughtful. “But the streets don’t forget. I can’t forget.”

Their conversation shifted to the present reality of threats. Jerry’s voice grew more serious, almost low enough for only Lucy to hear. “Lucy—” He caught her glare. “Favour… whatever you like. As long as you’re Mrs. Jerry Dombaco, that’s all that matters.” He kissed her

“I’m getting you a bodyguard,” he said.

Her brow furrowed. “A bodyguard? But… that’s extreme, isn’t it?”

Jerry shook his head, eyes scanning the room, reflexively noting every door, window, and angle. “I’ve been getting threat letters for a while. Can’t trace ’em to anyone. But in this business, you never know who’s a friend or an enemy. So stay sharp, okay?”

Lucy nodded, swallowing the small knot of fear in her chest. Loving him meant accepting the danger that came with his world. “Okay,” she whispered.

“You love me?” he asked, voice softer now, almost tender.

“Yes,” she replied.

“You trust me?”

“Yes.”

“Then don’t worry, sweetness. You’re my world. My life. Nothing will happen to you.”

Jerry watched her closely, memorizing her expression—the way her eyes glimmered with faith, tempered by a cautious worry. He reached for her hand, squeezing it gently. “Vince is a proven protector. From now on, you won’t be alone. Not while I’m alive. Anthonio and Ben will be safe too.”

The boys ran past, squealing and crashing into the table, breaking the tension. Jerry lifted them both up and set them onto the counter to wash their hands before dinner. Lucy moved behind him, helping steady the children and smoothing flour-dusted hair from their faces. They laughed again, a little slower this time, savoring the rare calm of family life.

Jerry caught a fleeting smile from Lucy and whispered, “I hope they grow up with this kind of laughter in their lives. I want them to know the world can be good, despite all the darkness I’ve seen.”

Lucy leaned against him. “Then let’s keep building it. Together. One meal, one game, one prayer at a time.”

He kissed her forehead tenderly. “Forever, Favour. You’re mine. And I’ll do everything to keep you safe. Even if the world outside is hell, this home…” He gestured to the warm, noisy, chaotic kitchen, “…this home is ours.”

Dinner that night was warm, loud, and full of laughter. Jerry watched Lucy—still smitten after all these years. She’d given up exotic dancing and escort work at his insistence after her kidnapping. They’d lived together under the condition, set by her aunt Meredith and her sister Katie, that it would be temporary—until Bosco stopped looking for her. That year turned into a pregnancy, then another. After their second child, her aunt had pushed them toward Pastor Richard for a marriage blessing and baptism. Lucy—now calling herself Favour—embraced the new life, leaving “Lucy” behind as part of her past. Jerry went along, more amused than devout.

That night, after tucking the kids in, Jerry called Diesel.

“Get Vince. Put him on twenty-four-hour watch. Nothing happens to Lucy—or he doesn’t live to regret it.”

“Yes, boss.”

Jerry knew these weren’t idle threats. Vince was a proven protector, and from now on, Lucy wouldn’t be alone.

---------

Bosco lounged in the VIP corner of a smoky bar, eyes scanning the crowd. Five years of running Big Joe’s leftover empire had brought stability, thanks to Dan and Ken—but Jerry’s Robin Hood strikes kept cutting into profits. Tonight, the vendetta was all he could think about. He wasn’t here to drink. He was here to think, plan, and wait.

He remembered that night vividly: Jerry torching the tavern, Big Joe taken out, their business in flames. Bosco had been away on an assignment, but he’d searched endlessly for Jerry or Lucy. Nothing. The thought of those loose ends festered like an open wound.

“Word is he runs some Robin Hood scam,” Kelani said from across the table.

“The one stealing from the underground?” another man asked.

“Yeah. Handing out food and cash to shelters and the needy.”

Bosco smirked. “If it’s him, his fun’s over. Ken’s closing in.”

Kelani leaned forward. “So, what’s your play on the kid?”

“Not so much a kid anymore. He’s got a wife now.” Bosco’s voice dropped to a whisper.

“Been trailing them four years, just like you asked,” Kelani confirmed.

“Got their exact location?”

“Yes, Bosco.”

Bosco lit a cigarette, the glow casting a red glint in his eye. “Good. Perfect.” He exhaled slowly. His eyes flicked to the bartender, who was wiping down counters with methodical precision. “The fools think they’re untouchable because they’ve vanished into charity. They think no one’s after them. But I know better. Robin Hood can bleed.”

“Two kids now, right?”

Kelani grinned. “Yes, boss.”

“Then we start with them.”

Kelani watched him, noting the cold precision in Bosco’s movements. “And the wife?”

“She’s collateral,” Bosco said, crushing the cigarette in the ashtray. “But also leverage. Make her tremble. Let Jerry see that his ‘perfect home’ isn’t untouchable. Fear is the only language he respects.”

He leaned back in his chair, exhaling a long, slow breath. The bar around him was noisy, casual, indifferent—but in his mind, a quiet war had begun. Every step had been planned, every detail accounted for. The vendetta that had simmered for half a decade was now boiling over, and Jerry’s world, no matter how bright it seemed behind the walls of his home, was about to ignite.

Bosco’s lips curled into a cold smile, his voice was calm, deliberate, but beneath it was a venomous promise. “Jerry JX… your life just became a living hell.”