Page 1 of Revenge

Prologue

The Past

I had never found the taste of bloodoverlyoffensive but the blood of an enemy tasted so much sweeter; that salty metallic flavourfeedinginto your sense of victory.

‘And you can stop smiling, Kai. You’re nothing but a thug. How will your father feel when he learns about your behaviour?’Nurse Smith had scolded.

Proud, probably.

I hadn’t said that out loud. Of course not. Nurse Smith was a drippy old bat, but she still had the power to report you to the Head.

And I was right, apart from his initial annoyance that I’d been suspended again for two weeks, my Da had beenveryproud of what I had done.

And what was that you may ask?

I had annihilated Parker Jennings, thecock of the schoolsingle-handedly. Parker aka Dumbo, due to hismassiveears, was the tallest, biggest lad at Blackwood Academy and enjoyed throwing his weight around. He was a bottom feeder, preying on those smaller and weaker than himself and walking the halls like heownedthem. I’d allowed it for the first few months of his arrival at the school. I wasn’t overly impulsive and had been raised to believe in the phrasefools rush in. So, I had hidden in the shadows, watching, and learningbeforeI finally made my move andchallengedthe fucker.

And how sensationalthathad been.

News of the fight had travelled fast between our peers and the atmosphere had been thick with the thirst for blood. And I had, within nine minutes of the match given the crowdexactlythat; Parker's blood along with the top part of his ear. I threwthatfucker in there as an extra.

The fight had taken place behind the old gym at school, a building that was no longer in use. Most of the windows had been smashed out by kids using rocks as target practice and the entire roof was swallowed by ivy. That shit got everywhere.

At first, only an elite few were aware that I had challenged Parker topick on someone his own size;but within hours, theentireschool knew about it.

The rules were simple; no weapons or punches below the waist and nothing gnarly. When Parker pulled a knife on me at the eight-minute point and broke those rules, I followed suit. Hence the result of the fucker being disfigured for life.

If you can’t do the time, don’t do the crime.My late mother’s voice pulsed through my thoughts.

I knew when my father found out there would be no fallout. As I said, my Da was proud that I had taken down the bully. And the fact that I had done it so violently would have him patting me on the back for weeks. I was born in England but my father was from Ireland and he wore his Irish pride like a badge of honour.

We were the Kinlan family, a powerhouse based in London; Irish mafia inhabiting the West End, what more is there to say? That shit didn’t need bells on. The East, South and the North belonged to the other Gangs of London, but no one stepped foot on our patch. Not for the past decade anyway. My father was Gerard Kinlan, a man who had expanded his local Dublin gang into what was now an internationally recognised criminal organisation.

Everyoneat school knew who my father was.

On reflection, Parker should havethankedme after that day. There was nowayanyone could call him Dumbo now.

As I propped my shoulder against the doorframe, I scanned the crowd attempting to find something or someone worth watching. Fuck me Ihatedparties of any kind and this one blew big time.

Although I wasn’t punished for biting a guy’s ear off, Iwasforced to attend this dull-as-shit wedding. So, perversely, Ihadbeen sentenced.

Dressing up in an as uncomfortable as fuck suit and playing nice to one of my father’s associates and his new bride sucked dick.

My eyes narrowed as I watched the newly wedded woman swan around the room in her ridiculous dress. She resembled a life-sized version of the toilet roll doll my nan kept in her bathroom.

I had only spoken to her a handful of times; the woman was easy on the eye but not so bright. I found it interesting how my father watched her like a hawk, considering she’d just said her vows that morning to another man.

My mother died in a dubious bus crash a few years ago and Da was supposedly single and had been for the last year.

That was the last time I let my emotions get the best of me. Grief was a messed up, useless feeling. When you lose somebody you love, you think the world should fall into pieces with you but it doesn’t. It keeps ticking along and you are left, standing in the middle, feeling numb and hollow. The bottom of my world had fallen away that day as had my father’s, but eventually, he’d moved on.

And now years later, it’s like she never existed for him. Word had it that he was getting his dick wet with a widow from one of the other families. You had to be careful with shit like that when you moved in our circles; there were rules when it came to relationships and if you made the wrong move on the wrong woman. You paid a price.

Turning to look at Sheridan Quinn, my father’s suspected latest tart, I rolled my eyes. They weren’t together officially; she was purely an outlet for my father to get his end away. The woman also came with baggage; a snot-nosed kid, Andrew, or something. My father couldn’t stand little kids anymore, not enough patience. I pulled my eyes away from where he was sitting on his mother’s knee whilst she flirted with Boyce Calton, a dirty old letch who’d put his dick in anything.

Fuck a duck, I was bored.

People were either drinking, propping up the bar, eating shite buffet food or dancing like a person did when they thought no one was watching.

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