My Youth Began With Him Novels & Stories

He traps it in his grasp, pressing it against his chest a bit harsher. I turn silent and wait. When he is sure I won’t pull my hand away, he removes his and brings it over his face, letting out a deep sigh. His eyes close and he hides most of his face with his arm. Right when I think he won’t say a damn thing, he breathes in deeply and starts talking. “We were barely ten. It was my first shift even. It was utterly painful and by the end of it, I could barely find any strength within my bones to pull myself together and get up.” His voice is hoarse and I’m sure his throat is dry and painful.

"When did you begin to run this mafia?," I asked him. "Like how old were you?" "I think I was 16," he began. "Fuck knows, so much shit has happened since. I lost track of fucking time." "16's pretty young. At 16, I was trying to figure out how to straighten my hair without it getting frizzy from the top and you were looking after a whole fucking mafia." He shrugged his shoulders. "Dad’s a deadbeat.

He asked as he stared at me in the eye. “Where do I even begin?” I asked with a sigh. “You can begin anywhere?” He replied with a reassuring smile on his face. “Ok,” I responded as I dried the tears that had spilled while I talked. “There was a time while I was with them,” I began. “I think I was barely seven years of age then.” “What happened?” Alpha Tristan asked with rapt attention.

He still wanted me to give in. “It started when I was seven…”

My future had just begun. To be continued...

"Start from the beginning." Aiden swallowed hard. "I was sixteen," he began, his voice barely above a whisper. "I thought I was invincible. Thought I knew everything. Then one night... I met someone at a party. He was older and charming. He said he could get me anything I wanted—money, drugs, protection. I was stupid. I said yes." He paused, his eyes distant. "His name was Daniel Reyes." Harper went rigid. Malakai's hand found hers, squeezing gently.

She never sought to step beyond it, nor dared to want more. And he knew. She harboured nothing in her heart for him. While he—he had desired her from the moment their paths first crossed, back when the world was gentler and their hands held no blood. She had been a girl of barely nine summers, still learning to plait her hair, her eyes wide with wonder. And he, a youth in training—learning the art of swordplay under the stern gaze of his father. That was the moment her face engraved itself into his memory, quiet and everlasting.

He sighed, rubbing his palms down his face. He was quiet for a moment, as though recollecting his thoughts. She waited patiently for him to do so and soon he lifted his head up, begining his story. " I was just fifteen years old." He started, letting out a shaking exhale. 'I was free, ate what I wanted and I went where I wanted and did what I wanted." He said, shrugging a shoulder. "It was Lincoln that was kept on a short leash." He chuckled lightly at the memory, sighing heavily afterwards.

I don't know if it's just me, but his voice is like a soothing lullaby when he says my name. I straightened up from leaning on his shoulder and asked, "Yes?" "Do you know that I accidentally discovered this place?" he asked, and I just shrugged. How would I know if he just stumbled upon this place by accident? I'm not him, so I wouldn't know that he only accidentally discovered this place. Besides, I don't know much about his life to know that he only stumbled upon this place by accident. In my peripheral vision, I saw him smile sadly before turning his attention to the view in front of us. "I was just sixteen years old at that time," he said, his voice breaking.