2

1

AMON, 12 YEARS OLD

Dante and I sat at the dining table, our eyes trained on our plates. Mine burned, but I knew if Father caught me crying, he’d whip me. My back itched at the thought as I felt my shirt shift across my scars.

But it was worth it to spare the little girl with crystal blue eyes and golden curls. For some reason, I couldn’t bear to see the fear in her eyes. Everyone was afraid of Father. But the thought of tears streaming down her plum cheeks had my chest tightening. Just like it had when Father hurt my mother.

Smash.

Another loud crash, and it didn’t take a genius to know there’d be a lot of broken furniture. Mamma and Father always argued. He called her a spoiled whore. She screamed for him to avenge her. I didn’t understand much of what was said, but it was hard to understand why he always yelled at her. Mamma said that a good man never raised his hand or his voice at women or children.

And yet, she loved him.

Another bloodcurdling scream tore through the castle. I pushed my chair back and stood. We weren’t permitted to interfere, but I couldn’t let him hurt my mamma. If I got the beating intended for her, so be it.

“Amon, you shouldn’t…” Dante trailed off as he looked at my face. Then he sighed and pushed his chair back too. “Fine, we do it together.”

I shook my head. “No, you’ll have to take care of Mamma.”

His jaw clenched, and I knew he didn’t like my answer. But this would be one of those times that I’d enforce the “I’m older” rule. Even if only by a few weeks.

I walked through the foyer covered in broken glass and red droplets. Blood. My heart twisted as I walked up the stairs, following the trail of destruction and the sound of angry voices. My feet carried me toward Father’s bedroom door, which stood ajar.

“How could you let him step foot in here? Our home.” Mamma’s voice cracked. “Knowing… how he treated me. Used me.”

“This had nothing to do with you.” Father’s booming voice shook the windows. At least it felt that way. “Stop being melodramatic and jealous. It is unbecoming.”

“You… you… monster. I gave you e-everything.” Mamma reverted to speaking Japanese, her sobs breaking her words. “I’m still giving you everything. And you—”

“Don’t finish that,” Father said with a threatening growl. A loud creak sounded, immediately followed by soft sobs that made my gut twist. I hadn’t eaten dinner yet, but lunch threatened to come back up my throat.

I pushed the door open, stepped into the doorframe, and froze.

Father had Mamma on the bed, his knee on her throat. Her hands were tied to the bed rail, her body bruised and bloody. Her clothes were ripped and hanging off her like rags.

She whimpered, and that was what finally shook me from my stupor. Rage shot through me, angry and red, and I bolted through the room and tackled my father. He tumbled off the bed with a loud thud and I fell right behind him. For a cruel old bastard, he moved with surprising agility. He got his bearings and backhanded me. I should have felt it, but I didn’t. All I could feel was adrenaline and rage rushing through my veins.

I kept punching, hitting, and biting. Anything to match the pain he bestowed on us all.

He rolled me onto my back, my skull hitting the cold hardwood. Stars danced in my vision but I shook my head.

“Cesar, get your fucking ass over here,” he shouted.

“No,” I hissed, jerking against him. I swung forward and headbutted him, his nose spurting blood instantly. “Cover my mother first.”

I hated that I was smaller than him, and I made a promise that one day I’d be stronger. Strong enough to overpower him. Strong enough to end him.

Somehow Mamma had gotten herself free and jumped on his back. “Let him go, Angelo. Or I swear to God, I’ll leave. I’ll take Amon and go back home, consequences be damned.”

Father stilled and pushed her off. “You’re lucky I need her connections,” he spat in disgust before yanking me to my feet.

My vision tunneled as I jerked his hand away. He just shook his head, muttering under his breath. Father hated feeling powerless. I didn’t understand what he needed from her, but it had to be important.

A knock sounded on the door and I bent down to reach for a discarded robe, wrapping it around my mamma’s small frame.

“Get lost, Cesar,” Father barked. “You’re late, as always.” Then he moved out of the room, leaving me alone with my mother. Silence filled the space, ominous and heavy.

“You shouldn’t anger him, Amon,” she scolded me softly. “You’re important. I’m not.”

I shook my head. “You’re important. To Dante and me.”

She touched my cheek. “But I’m your mother, not Dante’s.” Her voice grew raspy and her hand on my cheek trembled. “I love you both, but you’re my little prince and you are owed a crown.”

My eyes widened. “I am?” I whispered.

The sorrow in her gaze gutted me. “You are older than both your brother and your cousin. Yet they will take what should be yours. What’s rightfully yours and what you deserve.”

She fell to the floor while I clung to her hand, pressing it against my cheek. “Mamma?”

“I’m fine. Just tired,” she mumbled, her eyes fluttering shut. Using all my strength, I tried to lift her. When I couldn’t, I reached for the pillows and fluffy blankets, pulling them off the bed, covering her small body. “My little prince,” she murmured. “He stole from you.”

I didn’t understand the feelings that slithered through my veins at her words. It would take me years to finally realize it was bitterness.