Page 1 of Devlin

Chapter One

The Past

The boy shivered in his tattered blanket and rested his head against the cold, hard wall. He didn’t know how long he’d be there this time. He only knew it was worse somehow, because he was madder than usual.

That was never good for anyone, especially his younger brothers. Were they okay? Hurting somewhere dark and quiet like he was? The thought made him mad, made him curl his hands into fists and clench his jaw. Anger was good, better than being afraid all the time.

He shifted, trying to find a less uncomfortable position on the concrete floor. The dampness seeped through his clothes, chilling him to the bone. The only source of light came from the small barred window.

He listened carefully, straining to hear any sound beyond the basement. Was that a footstep? His heart pounded in his chest, and he held his breath, but the sound faded into silence.

Someday, the boy swore he’d get strong enough to put a stop to all of this. He’d painstakingly claw his way to the top and take his father’s throne. Then he’d make all the rules. He’d make sure he and his brothers would no longer have to suffer.

The door creaked open, and he tensed. A hulking figure dressed in a cheap suit stood in the doorway, silhouetted by the dim light from the corridor. It was one of his father’s men. The boy tightened his fists, digging into his palms.

“Get up,” the guy growled.

The boy didn’t move, his defiance simmering just beneath the surface. The grunt stepped closer, and the boy could see the cold, merciless eyes glaring down at him.

“I said, get up!” The grunt’s voice was harsher now, a warning.

Slowly, the boy rose to his feet, his body aching from the cold, hard floor. The guard grabbed him roughly by the arm and yanked him toward the door. The boy stumbled but managed to keep his balance. He bit back a cry of pain, refusing to give the guard the satisfaction.

They walked up the stairs to the first floor of the house and the boy’s mind raced. Where were they taking him? Was this another punishment, or something worse? He had to be strong. He had to survive, for his brothers.

He squinted at the harsh morning light as they arrived in the kitchen. The boy’s heart pounded even harder. The grunt showed him forward.

In the center stood his father, his expression a mask of cold fury. The boy’s stomach churned, but he stood tall, meeting his father’s gaze with all the defiance he could muster.

“You think you’re brave, don’t you?” his father sneered.“You think you can defy me?”

The boy didn’t answer. He knew better than to speak. His father’s eyes narrowed, and he took a step closer.

“You will learn your place,” his father hissed.“And so will yourbrothers.”

The boy’s blood boiled. He clenched his fists tighter, his resolve hardening. Someday, he would make sure they were free. Someday, he would take this man down. But for now, he had to endure. He had to survive. He had to be strong. For himself. For his brothers. For the future he dreamed of in the darkness.

“Take him back to the basement,” his father said.

No, Devlin thought in desperation, but he bit his tongue. He refused to show any sign of weakness. Some fear must’ve flashed on his face, because his father smirked in triumph.

He wanted to wipe that smug look away, but right now, that would only make matters worse. So he complied. He slumped his shoulders and allowed himself to be taken back.

He didn’t know how much time had passed. He was thirsty, hungry, and some part of him was starting to believe he was slowly going insane. Then, the sound of the door creaked open. Was he imagining things? If his father wanted to talk to him again, he didn’t think he’d have the strength to keep his bravado up.

The door opened, and to his shock, one of his father’s men shoved someone down the stairs. Not Galen or Carver … but a girl with striking red hair and fierce green eyes. He recalled seeing her at a few events. The daughter of one of his father’s associates. Although they’d traded a few glances once or twice, they never had the opportunity to speak.

“Stay there,” the guard said, shutting the door behind her.

She screamed and pounded the door with her fists. She had so much fight in her, he admired that. He was sad that sooner or later, all that defiance would be ground down to nothing. It had been the same with him.

“Shouting and screaming won’t work. Better to conserve your energy,” he told her.

She turned, surprised to find another soul there. Her wide eyes, filled with fear and fury, locked onto his.

“Who are you?” she demanded, her voice trembling.

“The eldest son,” he replied quietly. “Like you, I’m a prisoner here.”

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