Chapter 8

Don Sebastian had lain awake all night, unable to sleep. He was worried. He trusted Giovanni, but he was also afraid. Don Carlo was a snake, he wasn't a man to be joked with, and he knew that there was a probability of something else happening.

A very high probability.

He said a prayer, swallowing hard. He didn't want another defeat, and he didn't want to lose to Giovanni Rossi either. He was the greatest deputy he had ever seen, and there was none better in the whole of the Lakeside region.

That was why when he heard the rumble of his men's truck, he jumped out of bed, discarding the covers. He had purposely not slept with his wife because he had known he wouldn't be able to sleep.

He raced down the stairs, finding his way to the grounds where he met his men who were chanting in voices that said they had been victorious. It was late, but he urged them to carry on. He wanted the whole region to know before sun up. He had gotten his dignity back, he had gotten his prestige back.

He had defeated that bastard, Don Carlo, and he knew that what had happened was just the tip of the iceberg. By the time he was done with Don Carlo, he would come crawling and begging for him to stop the fighting.

Giovanni was the last to come out of the vehicle, and even though the lights that guarded the grounds were a little bit dim, Don Sebastian could see that he had somebody beside him.

“How did it go, Gio?”

“Splendid, boss. And guess what? I brought you the best gift you will receive in years to come.”

And with those words, he slapped the person beside him, urging him forward. The teenager fell at his feet, teary-eyed, hands raised in what was a surrender and a plea.

Don Sebastian knew who he was from his features, from the blue eyes and the hairy skin. He looked just like his bastard father but was slightly taller. His hands trembling in excitement, he tilted the teenager's chin to him, wanting to hear and confirm what he knew from the lad's mouth.

“And who are you, young blood?”

The teenager wiped his eyes as the tears that he was unable to control were beginning to flow.

“I'm Don Carlo's son, Sampson Du Vanguard.”

Smiling joyfully, Don Sebastian raised his hands and screamed into the night. Birds flew from treetops, terrified by the scream. His hand trembling in excitement, Don Sebastian punched the teenager full in the face, splitting his lip instantly and drawing blood.

The boy fell at his feet completely, drained and exhausted.

“My God, you've done so well, Giovanni. You don't know how proud I am. I'm like a proud father. Take this son of a bastard to the guard room. By the sunrise, we'll know what to do with him.”

_____________

As soon as Don Carlo discovered that his son wasn't in bed by two in the morning when he was doing his usual routine checkup, he knew that something was wrong.

For one, his calls to the men who had gone to the combat event weren't going through. He wanted to find out if Sampson was with them because he knew that he wasn't going anywhere else.

But why weren't their calls going through? Why wasn't anyone picking up?

Consoling himself, he guessed that the event had already begun. Promising to punish his son and make him suffer the consequences of disobedience, he fell into a troubled sleep marred by nightmares.

When the next morning he saw Julian Santos outside his door as he exited the room he shared with his wife, he knew instantly that something was wrong. His deputy stared at him with eyes that were angry but couldn't do anything.

Eyes that screamed helplessness.

“What is wrong, Julian?”

Julian paused, then stared at him in the eyes, knowing that no matter how he was trying to avoid it, he was going to tell his boss regardless. It was inevitable.

“Our men, sir. We've found their bodies on the bridge. Everyone is dead, sir. Only Cole managed to survive. And he managed to speak to me before he was transferred to the hospital.”

Don Carlo's hands were trembling. The blood was pounding in his head and the world had seemed to come to a standstill at that moment. He was afraid because he knew what he was going to hear.

“Speak, Julian Santos.”

He ordered, brave enough to face his words. He was ready to face whatever his deputy would tell him. He imagined his son dead, bullets inside his skin, his blood on the tarmac.

“He told me they took Sampson, your son. That's exactly what he told me.”

Don Carlo held the door for stamina because it looked as if he was going to fall. He had told him not to go, but his son had decided to be disobedient.

“What did you say, Julian? What happened to my son, Julian?”

It was then Don Carlo knew that there was trouble. As far as his wife had heard about it, there was going to be trouble. She was screaming at the top of her voice, now holding Julian's collar. When she came to hold him, he skillfully pushed her away, leaving the hallway because he needed to think clearly.

Settling into the chair in his study, Don Carlo could only imagine what his son was going through in the hands of Don Sebastian. He was gutted. He couldn't breathe, and he tapped his chest repeatedly, knowing that he was having a panic attack.

His wife's wailing brought him to the present, to the problem at hand. He was actually in trouble. For the first time, his family was in danger, something he had tried to prevent all his life.

What was he going to do?

He knew that calling Don Sebastian wasn't going to achieve anything. He was the indebted one, and the sooner he started making plans for his son's safety, the better.

As soon as it was sun up, Don Sebastian found his way to the guard room where Don Carlo's son lay. He looked as if he hadn't slept all night, his face still bore welts and signs of the slaps that had been given to him yesterday. His eyes were bloodshot, and even his nose was running.

Don Carlo's son was nothing but a kid who needed his father.

But Don Sebastian was past caring. This was the same man that had attacked him, that had made him look like a fool in the eyes of the other mafia Lords. This was the same man who had made him lose his prestige, his dignity, and the respect he had fought for years to gather and garner.

No, he reminded himself immediately, there was no need for pity. There was only revenge, and that was what he had set his mind towards.

Sitting next to the boy, he waited until Giovanni came into the room, a smile plastered on his face. He was eating a sandwich, and it made Don Sebastian wonder briefly how long his deputy had been up. He knew Giovanni as a man who didn't joke with his morning rituals, so he felt that he had probably gone jogging.

“Boss.”

Giovanni greeted, eating the last of his sandwich and accepting the handshake he offered the young man. Most times, Don Sebastian had found himself acknowledging that if he hadn't had a son, then his entire business and legacy was going to go to Giovanni.

Not because of any other thing, but because of how loyal the young man was. Giovanni was willing to die on a hill for him and the rest of his men. He was willing to fight and battle until the very end until there was no need to continue fighting.

That was the kind of man his deputy was. And he loved him for it.

“You did well by bringing this brat home, Gio. We're going to have a very fun time with him. It's not easy to have sons nowadays, and especially good ones. His father knows what is at stake here, and he'll have to listen to our terms. Now come on boy, what is your name?”

He saw the boy adjust slowly, his whole clothes bloodied and caked with mud. The side of his face had welts to it, and from what Don Sebastian was looking at, he was sure that the boy hadn't been beaten before. And even if he had, it wasn't to this extent.

“Sampson Du Vanguard, sir. The son of..”

“I know who you are, young blood. You're a disgusting piece of shit, that's what you are. I look at you, and all I see is your father. I hate the both of you, and I wish you guys could just drop dead and die most times.”

Standing up, he paced the room, staring at the boy, wondering what to do with him. He desperately wanted to kill him because he still hadn't gotten over the death of ten of his men, Don Carlo's son's head could replace the head of ten other men.

But just then, he had an idea.

“Gio? Come on, get my phone in my study. Hurry up, we're going to take a picture, send it to Don Carlo, tell him what is at stake, and demand our ransom.”

He saw his deputy leave the room, energy in all his steps. He was probably wondering what the ransom was going to be. Don Sebastian smiled, knowing that he knew what it was going to be. It was time to gain back his respect.

__________

Staring at her brother's empty room and bed, Seraphina still couldn't believe what she had heard from her mother. Her brother was trying to sneak out to a party and had been caught by Don Sebastian's men, and he was there at the moment.

She had cried the previous day until she could cry no more. Even though she despised her brother for his mouth that was always running and the way he seemed to insult her at the slightest opportunity, she knew he didn't deserve such.

He was paying for the sins of his father.

Disgusted and leaving the room, she found her way to her father's study, knocking and opening it without even letting him tell her to come in.

From her father's bloodshot eyes, she could tell that he had hardly slept a wink throughout the night. So far, nobody had heard from Don Sebastian, she nobody knew what his plans were, or what he wanted.

“Dad, what are we going to do about Sampson?”

She saw her father stretch his hands, suggesting that he had absolutely no idea. He poured himself a glass of whiskey from where it was stationed on the table, and she ignored his drinking so early in the morning, focusing on why she was in his study in the first place.

“You know this is all your fault, right? From what I've heard, you brought that war to us. You brought that war to our family. And now look at the impending disaster you have caused. There's no going back from this now…”

She saw her father chug down the whiskey, then slam his hand angrily on the table.

“No, no, Seraphina, don't you even dare! Don't do that! Do you know why I did the things I did? Because of the future of your brother and you. Because I'm trying to secure a gateway for both of you to Europe. And is this the thanks I get?”

Shaking her head vehemently, Seraphina stared her father down, annoyed. Since her brother's kidnap, she had ceased to fear him. She hated him instead, a new kind of hatred, one mixed with disappointment.

“Are you trying to say you didn't have enough money to send us to Europe in the first place?”

Just as he wanted to answer, his phone vibrated, the sound making him pause momentarily. When he saw the text message, the blood seemed to drain from his face, and he stared at her, tears coming to his eyes all of a sudden.

It was at that moment that Seraphina knew that her father might not be the strong man she presumed him to be after all.