Page 2 of Winds of War

Seamus shook his head, giving a friendly smile. “Hey, relax, it's nothing like that. The Base is home.” He sighed, a dreamy expression on his face.

Kieran fell silent and laid down on the bed, hands folded under his head, staring at the ceiling. Home. The word, or better said its meaning, didn't sound familiar to the young man, who was passed from one orphanage to another and had lost the count of the number of foster homes he was placed in, only to be relocated a few months later.

Memories from his early childhood resurfaced from the corner of Kieran's memory where he’d painstakingly laid them to rest. Images of himself as a small child, hiding in a desperate attempt to avoid the rage of one or another drunken or enraged foster father played in his head, filling his turquoise eyes with tears that slid on his cheeks.

Abandoned since birth, unwanted, unloved; that was, in a nutshell, the story of Kieran's life. Everyone he came across at different times made him feel as if he didn't belong in their lives or homes. From an early age, the blond had to learn how to make the most of everything he had, which was very hard when that everything meant very little: little food, little warmth, little to no affection.

Kieran learned to be quiet and take up as little space as possible to avoid trouble at all cost, but even so, it seemed that trouble found him no matter how well he thought he was hiding. As he grew up, Kieran looked around him and saw smaller kids being starved, deprived of warmth, and subjected to all kinds of physical abuse.

Something broke inside him, and although weak himself, the then-child summoned all his courage and stepped in, defending and helping the ones who couldn't do it themselves. Being kicked out of the foster care system at eighteen came as a liberation for Kieran, the happiest moment of his sad, gloomy life.

The two part-time jobs the boy took ensured him the financial independence he dreamed about and all the things he desperately wanted ever since he was a little child: a comfy bed, thick blankets and a warm room when it was bitter cold outside, and plenty of food in his belly. Above all, it gave him enough time for what became his favorite pastime: keeping an eye on the kids on the street, making sure they didn't get hurt.

A sharp pain stabbed through Kieran's chest when he remembered the desperate cries of the frail boy whose body and soul those two beasts mercilessly destroyed, but it was quickly replaced by an evil satisfaction. The monsters got what they deserved, even if that landed him in prison.

Kieran opened his eyes and met Seamus's cobalt-blue eyes that gazed over him, filled with understanding and compassion, as if the man could read into his cellmate's soul. The man is surely more than met the eye, Keiran thought, tentatively smiling back. Home... Would that place called The Base fill the void he felt every time he spoke that word?

CHAPTER 2

“Welcome back to The Base, Don Joaquin.” Fabian Bloom opened his arms wide. “It's a great honor to greet you for the first time from your new position as Don Giuseppe's successor. Allow me to congratulate you,” the man dipped his head in the guest's direction.

“The honor is all mine.” Joaquin Montemayor-Fenelli returned the courtesy gesture. “Last time when I was here, we barely got to exchange a few words, so this time, I will take advantage of Mister MacNamara's absence and have a long talk with his wise consigliere.”

“Oh, Don Joaquin, I'm afraid you'll find this old man very boring,” Fabian replied. “These young men, on the other hand, are wonderful conversation partners, and I'm sure you'll find a lot of interesting subjects to talk about.,” He gestured to the small group behind him, a paternal smile brightening his face.

“Hello, I'm Lorcan, and this is my twin Cian.” One of the young men said as he offered Joaquin a friendly smile, extending his hand in his direction. “Congratulations on being appointed as your honorable grandfather's successor, and welcome to The Base.”

“Thank you very much. It's a pleasure to finally meet Ardan MacNamara's brave, strong, and intelligent older sons.” Joaquin spoke in a warm, polite voice, keeping Cian's hand in his a little longer.

“My brother Lorcan here has all the qualities you mentioned, and many others,” Cian replied in a soft, low voice, blushing a delicate shade of pink. “My younger brother Tarrin is also very strong, resourceful, and brilliant.” The blond warmly smiled. “I...well...I'm just a peacemaker.”

“Don't sell yourself short. We need peacemakers, especially in these crazy times with all this madness that Jorge Montemayor greedy beast unleashed.” Joaquin took Cian's hand between his own again, offering the blond a warm smile.

“Welcome back, kiddo. I missed you so much!” Van came next to Giuseppe Fenelli's successor, slightly panting. “Sorry I'm late. I had to find someone who can cover my perimeter first. And sorry for the slip of tongue, too. I should have called you Don Joaquin, according to your new position. You’re no longer kiddo for me, a mere soldier.” He put his arms around the young man, hugging him tight.

“I missed you, too, Mister Johnson.” Joaquin reciprocated the hug. “Although I was surrounded by my nonno's loyal men who also pledged their loyalty to me, I felt a bit lost without you by my side.” The young mafioso smiled. “Will you please introduce me to the others?” He gestured to the five younger boys grouped around Fabian.

“My pleasure.” Van smiled, showing his white teeth. “This one here is Lucas, my close friend's stepson, the one I told you about who now goes by Ira. He'll be a great consigliere one day.” The man spoke in a voice filled with paternal pride. “Next to him is Tarrin, boss's younger son and Ira's best friend, a brave, noble soul.”

“These two here, Don Joaquin, are my nephews, Elias and Abernathy,” Fabian affectionately spoke, putting his hands on the two boys' shoulders. “They, Ira, and Tarrin are the best of friends, known by everyone as the inseparable four.”

“I'm very happy to meet you.” Joaquin gave warm, energetic shakes to the four teens' hands. “Just like Consigliere Bloom said, I'm sure all of us will become close friends.”

Soames, one of the guards who secured the perimeter around school, watched the scene from afar, feeling a pang to his chest when he saw Joaquin taking Cian's hand between his own. From the very first time he saw the then-teen in his father's office four years earlier, Soames had an instant crush on him.

Over the years, instead of passing, that crush turned into something deeper, more profound, a need to protect the fragile boy, to keep him safe from harm no matter what. At the beginning, the young man said to himself that it was his duty to do so, and it hadn't anything to do with his personal feelings, but soon he discovered the vulnerable blond was in his thoughts and dreams all day and all night long.

Of course, Soames knew better than to voice his feelings. Ardan MacNamara was a compassionate, understanding man and a good boss, but, when it came to his twin sons, Lorcan and Cian, he became a wild beast ready to tear apart anyone who was fool enough to mess with them.

Jericho, one of the older guards, who was also close friends with the boss, gave friendly advice for Soames to maintain a professional relationship with Cian. He did that for four years, following the fragile blond everywhere like a shadow, guarding him and watching him bloom into an intelligent, brave, and handsome young man who, just like his father, was capable of doing anything to protect the helpless and innocent.

Soames was happy with the way things were, and even hoped that one day, he could talk to Cian about the feelings he kept buried deep inside his mind, but then he came into the picture, ruining his chances for happiness. Joaquin Montemayor-Fenelli came on his mother's side from a respectable family of mafiosi, was good-looking, well-mannered, educated, all those qualities recommending him as a perfect match for Cian.

Life wasn't fair. Soames sighed, heading to the other end of his patrolling perimeter. It was lunch break time at school, and most of the kiddies would want to take advantage of the warm weather and would gather at the tables outside to eat the contents of their lunch boxes. Lost in thoughts as he was, Soames didn't notice Spyros coming from the opposite direction and bumped into him.

Mumbling an apology, he wanted to check on the other guard and see if he wasn't hurt, but Spyros stopped him with a gesture of his hand, saying the incident was also his fault. Soames nodded and continued his walk, while the other guard stopped and turned around, casting a poisonous look at the group greeting Joaquin Montemayor-Fenelli, more specifically, in Van's direction.

Goddamn bastard, Spyros cursed mentally. he got under the young don-to-be's skin, and now he's acting like he would own the place. Why that man has to make a show of himself every time an important guest arrives is beyond me, he continued his trail of thoughts, the tall, muscular black guard irritating him by his simple presence.

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