Gone like the wind
820 Words
“How was he, Sloane?” my father asked from his bed.
“I think he would make a good successor,” she replied.
There was a pause, then his voice again—faint, but still sharp. “Take care of him for me, Sloane. Teach him what to do.”
“Yes, sir,” she said quietly.
“Good. Now go. I want to sleep.”
I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling.
All I could think about was how I’d ordered someone’s legs to be broken. The man might never walk again.
And I felt… nothing.
That alone terrified me. I wasn’t numb because I didn’t care—I was numb because it felt natural. Like something I’d been wired for all along.
“Maybe I’m more like him than I thought,” I muttered.
My eyelids were just starting to close when a sudden pounding shattered the silence.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
A loud knock. Urgent. Uninvited.
I sat up, irritated. “Go away! Don’t come back! Don’t disturb me! I don’t need anything!” I shouted.
Whoever it was didn’t knock again.
Eventually, hunger won. I got out of bed and left the room, figuring I’d grab something from the kitchen or find the chef.
But the second I stepped into the hallway, I stopped cold.
A stretcher was being wheeled past. A body, covered in a white sheet.
Some of the staff were crying.
Sloane stood a few steps away, speaking quietly with a doctor.
I didn’t want to believe it.
My chest tightened, but I forced myself to call out. “Sloane?”
She turned. Her face was pale.
“What’s happened?” I asked, already knowing. Already dreading the answer.
She didn’t speak. Just stood there like she didn’t know how to say it.
“Sloane. I’m asking you—what happened?” My voice cracked with frustration. And fear.
She swallowed hard. The strongest woman I knew looked… helpless.
“Mr. Damien... your dad... he just passed,” she said, barely getting the words out.
I knew it. The moment I saw the stretcher, I knew. But hearing it out loud hit different. Like someone had slammed the truth into my chest with a hammer.
Just hours ago, we’d spoken. His voice still echoed in my head.
And now he was gone.
I turned away, walked back into my room, and locked the door behind me.
Then I broke.
I cried harder than I had in years. Not since the day my mother died.
A week passed.
We buried him the way kings are buried. Grand. Dignified. Silent, like the world had been holding its breath.
But the underworld doesn’t pause for long.
People moved on.
Everyone except me.
I wasn’t healed. I didn’t think I ever would be.
But I was thankful. At least we ended things right. My last memory of him wasn’t anger—it was peace.
Time didn’t wait.
The meetings of the Six Pillars kept happening—though now there were only five.
I hadn’t taken my father’s seat yet.
Sloane stayed close, helping me piece together the massive, sprawling empire he’d left behind.
She showed me how the laundering worked. Who our allies were. Who would slit my throat the second I turned my back.
One night, while we sat going through names and numbers, she said, “Your dad told me the only way you’ll ever find your mum’s killer is if you stay in this business.”
I didn’t respond. But her words lodged in my chest like a blade.
My instincts said to run. But something deeper—something older—said to stay.
I made my decision that night.
I would take my father’s place.
Find the man who murdered my mother.
Deal with him.
And then, maybe, disappear.
But I already knew it wouldn’t be that simple.
The next meeting of the Pillars was held in the usual location.
My father’s seat sat empty at the head of the table. The highest one.
“When’s he coming to take the seat?” Diego Montoya Vargas asked.
“I don’t know and I don’t care,” Rafe Kingston muttered. “I just want the cash moving. My shipments are piling up.”
“Same,” Victor Langford added. “I’ve got projects waiting. This stall is costing me.”
“Let the boy mourn,” Liang Shen said calmly. “His father just died. Give him time.”
“He’s a man, ain’t he?” Mikhail Volkov scoffed. “What’s he gonna do—cry forever?”
That’s when I pushed open the door.
I stepped inside, dressed in a dark tailored suit. Sloane followed just behind me.
I didn’t say a word.
I walked to the top of the table and took the empty seat.
The room went silent.
And just like that, a new era is about to begin.
- Writer
