POV's Jace
I hated him, hated how he hurt Philip and me, and even his new wife, Surina. Still, I raised my hand and shot one of the men. Father took care of the other. The man fell to the floor, clutching his shoulder. Father kicked the gun away, then shot him in both feet. Somewhere in the house, I heard more gunshots, then heavy steps. One stumbled inside, bleeding from a wound in his head.
Father frowned. "Did you kill everyone?"
One nodded. "Yes. They got two."
"They shouldn't have come as far as they did," Father muttered. Without warning, he aimed his gun at One and pulled the trigger. I cried out in surprise as the man fell to the floor beside me. I'd known him all my life.
My legs gave way, my wound throbbing. Father regarded me as he lifted his phone and spoke into it. "Send for the Doc, and come over with Julian. No one else until I know who the rats are."
Father stalked toward me and pulled me roughly to my feet. Holding me upright, he shoved my hand away from my bleeding wound. He prodded at it, and my vision turned black as I jerked in agony. Father shook me.
"Get a grip on yourself. Don't die on me."
My eyes peeled open. Father shook his head, then released me, and I sank back down to the ground. I braced myself on my hands, wheezing.
Father moved out of the room, leaving me alone with the attacker, who was moaning as he tried to crawl away.
When Father returned, he carried a rope. He tied up the man, then pulled out his knife and touched it to the man's forearm. He screamed when Father began to cut his skin off his flesh. It's like peeling an apple.
That's what Father always said, but an apple didn't screech and beg. Cradling my bleeding stomach, I watched even as bile crawled up my throat.
Father kept glancing my way. I knew he'd punish me if I looked away. The screams rang in my ears, and I shivered. My arms gave way, and my cheek collided with the hard floor. The static in my ears soon drowned out the screaming, and then all was black.
TIME SKIP \~
The Underbosses and Captains waited in the living room of our mansion. Father stood in the middle and beckoned me forward. Every eye in the room followed me as I headed toward him. I held my head high, trying to appear taller. I am tall for my age, but the men around me still tower over me.
They looked at me like I was something they had never seen before. I stopped right in front of my father.
"The youngest initiate the Famiglia has ever seen," he announced, his voice booming in the room.
"Eleven years and already so much stronger and crueler than any father could wish for."
Pride swelled in my chest. Father had never sounded proud of me, never shown the slightest hint that Philip or I was more than a burden. I straightened my shoulders, trying to appear like a man in my black suit and wingtip shoes.
"Our enemies will whisper your name in fear, my son. My blood. My heir."
He withdrew a knife, and I held out my hand, knowing what was to come. I didn't flinch when Father cut my palm. He'd cut me many times before to make me strong for this day. Every time I'd flinched, he'd cut me again and dripped lemon juice or salt into my wound until I hid the pain.
"Born in Blood, Sworn in Blood. I enter alive, and I leave dead," I said firmly.
"You are a Made Man of the Famiglia, Jace. You will kill and maim in my name. You will break and burn."
A man is dragged into the room. I didn't know him or what he had done. He is covered in bruises and blood. His swollen eyes met mine, and they begged me. No one had ever looked at me like that, like I held all the power.
Father gave a nod and held the knife out to me, the same knife my mother had killed herself with. I took it from him, then stepped up to the man.
He struggled against the hold of Father's new bodyguards, but they didn't release him. My fingers tightened around the handle. Everyone is watching me, waiting for a flicker of weakness, but I am my father's son, and I will be Capo one day. I quickly slashed my hand sideways, drawing the knife along his throat.
The cut is messy, and blood spurted out, splattering my shoes and shirt. I took a step back as the man's eyes widened. He was dropped on the floor, his horrified eyes staring up at me as he convulsed and choked. I watched as the life drained out of him. Two days later, the most important words of my life were inked onto my chest, making me a Made Man for life. Nothing would ever be more important than the Famiglia.
Jace 13 YEARS OLD
Father's grip on my shoulder is tight when we enter the Foxy. I'd been inside the place a few times before when he had to talk to the manager. It is one of the most expensive whorehouses we own.
The whores were lined up in front of the bar, and the manager stood beside them. He nodded at Father, then winked at me. Father motioned for him to leave.
"You're thirteen, Jace," Father said. Surprise washed through me that he'd remembered my birthday is today. He hadn't mentioned it before.
"You've been a Made Man for eighteen months. You can't be a virgin and a killer." I flushed, my eyes darting to the women, knowing they had heard my father's words. None of them laughed, probably too scared of him. I straightened my shoulders, wanting them to watch me with the same caution they watched him.
"Choose two of them," Father said with a nod toward the whores. Shock shot through me when I understood why I am here. Slowly, I made my way toward the women, trying to look calm even as nerves twisted my stomach. At almost 5'7", I am already very tall for a thirteen-year-old, so the women were eye-level with me in their high heels. They weren't wearing much, only a short skirt and bras.