003
1347 Words
Ryker Talaverra's POV
The punching bag swayed back and forth as I slammed into it. The rattling and clanking of chains keeping the bag erect was all I could hear.
At least that was all I was supposed to hear. But somehow nightmares from the past kept ringing in my ears.
I wasn't meant to hear the words of my father seven years ago, telling me to leave town, but I did. I wasn't meant to hear the echoes of Penelope crying in her room while I had hidden outside of her window with my traveling bag in hand, fighting the urge to tell her to come with me. But I did.
I heard it all. The cries. The threats. Everything.
“F#ck!” I yelled out, plummeting the bag harder as though I was hitting my demons.
Seven years. Seven years of leaving Ravenport and the ache in my heart had only grown worse.
I shut my eyes, trying to fight back the images of Penelope with Sebastian. Their hands intertwined, eyes locked into each other.
A snarl drew from my throat and I kept on hitting the bag.
That bastard had his hands wrapped around her arm. From the look in his eyes, I could tell he wanted nothing more than to rip her out of that dress.
The thought made me sick in the stomach.
My Penelope. With another man?
I bit hard into my bottom lip, the taste of copper filling my mouth.
My eyes opened and in front of me was no longer the black, four foot punching bag. Rather, it was Sebastian, my egocentric, self righteous half brother.
Heat waves surged beneath my skin and it felt like I was on fire. I clamped my fists and hit harder and faster.
He crossed the line by going for Penelope. If he had been looking for my Achilles heel then he had found it and stepped hard on it.
Slowly the image of Sebastian's distorted into my father's face. Then gradually into mine.
I stopped abruptly, my fist half an inch away from pounding into my own face.
Sweat dripped down my forehead, stinging into my eyes and blurring my vision.
I was my own demon.
My hands trembled in fury and I struck the punching bag incessantly with every ounce of power I had in me. I kept on hitting it until I heard a loud thump and the punching bag crashed to the floor with its chains.
The workshop gates opened, allowing In a streak of sunlight.
Without looking back, I already knew who it was.
The click-clack of Sylvia Adams red bottom stilettos could be identified by the Mafia family even in our dreams.
She stopped behind me and touched my shoulders. Her hands were soft and strong enough to press into my shoulder blades, massaging my stiffened muscles with precision and practiced gentility.
“What's the matter, Don?” She whispered, her warm breath kissing the nape of my neck.
I heaved a sigh as her fingers threaded my shoulders. “I'm good.”
Her two hands slowly wandered down my spine, tracing an imaginary line. “Is this about your puppy?” She chuckled. “The scared little puppy who nearly peed herself at the altar today?”
I ignored the demeaning tone she addressed Penelope with as my shame was the only feeling I could focus on.
I lowered my head to the floor and to my scarred hands. “I should never have left her.” I declared.
Sylvia sighed, and although I had my back to her, I could tell those siren eyes had rolled.
With slow steps, she slid to my front and wrapped her dainty arms around my neck.
A beauty in satin. With bright green eyes and long brown hair, Sylvia Adams was stunning and hot. Even a blind man could feel the heat of seduction oozing from her skin.
“You did what you had to do, Boss.” She said gently. “Singlehandedly, you made our empire the greatest in the entire country.”
I wasn't one who fell for praises but this time I knew Sylvia was right. All the scars on my flesh was testimony of my tribulations as Mafia Lord.
She scoffed. “We're finally out of muddy waters Boss. You're the most powerful man in the city.” She smiled, her perfect dentition catching the dim streak of daylight that snuck into the workshop. “You can't spend your first day back in Ravenport thinking of that silly puppy. She's not worth it.”
I growled and slapped her hand off my shoulder.
She winced and clutched onto her arm, her eyes throwing daggers at me.
“You should have stopped talking ten seconds ago.” I snapped, looking down at her as my caged rage broke free.
“I'm sorry Boss.” She said with gritted teeth.
My chest rose and fell as I walked over to the cabinets at the darkest corner of the workshop. The cabinets were high and made of steel and bolts. Sylvia thought it was ugly and contrasting to the modern and wealthy outlay of my house, but she lacked taste just like most people.
For a cabinet that housed over a thousand knives, spears and rifles, the old rusty steel was perfect for me. It showed how rusty and disturbed my mind was.
I ripped the gloves off my hand and dumped them in an open compartment in the cabinet. “Why are you here?”
She knew my rules, and I was sure that she was well aware that I hated being disturbed during my evening siesta.
Yet here she was. Red lipstick, black sparkly dress short enough to be considered a shirt. She didn't even need to lean forward for me to see the hems of her lace throng.
She cleared her throat. “You have guests.”
I arched my brows at her while picking my shirt from a bench and putting it on.
“Friends of your late father's. They'll be good allies.” She added, her eyes gawking at my body as I dressed up.
“Hmm.” I responded casually.
Noticing my indifference, Sylvia moved to my side. “This is a huge opportunity, boss. With more allies on our side, you'll be taking over your father's companies in no time. Ravenport will be officially yours.”
I said nothing despite her persuasion. Having known me for seven years, one would think Sylvia will know me but she clearly doesn't. If she believes my plan for coming to Ravenport was to drag pennies with my little brother, then she was dead wrong.
She caught my arm as I made my way to the gates. “Ryker! You have to put on a good face to get their trust. Get that little b***h out of your mind and let's rule Ravenport as the Mafia Lord.”
She shouldn't have said that.
My hands moved fast, wrapping around her neck and pushing her against the wall.
Her legs dangled in the air as she struggled for breath. She tried to gurgle out pleas but my fingers get tightening around her neck until her eyes were popping out, red and teary.
I leaned in towards her and whispered in her ears. “Don't you dare call me by my name!”
She was half a second from passing out when I freed her and she dropped to the floor. Gasping and drawing in breath desperately, she muttered. “I'm sorry Boss.”
I watched her cough and wince in pain, fighting the urge inside of me to make her feel a part of my pain and guilt.
“Also,” I said by the gates of the workshop. She looked up at me.
“Call Penelope a b***h one more time and I'll show you how I treat bitches.” I paused as my eyes ran over her slouched frame. “Get up and take me to those privileged criminals you call my guests!”
- Writer
