Page 40 of The Darkest King

Then there was only silence.

Carlos had killed my little sister.

An innocent child.

I slunk to my knees, my hand over my mouth, my scream frozen, awaiting the moment I could release it.

I’m not sure I ever have.

He had killed my entire family in minutes. When the others returned, saying I wasn’t there, Carlos ordered them to hunt me down and kill me too.

I don’t know how long it took me to finally move and leave the space under the stairs, but it was the longest and most terrifying time of my life.

The bodies of my mother, father, and sister, drained of blood, greeted me once I did. I vomited multiple times, collapsing and crying in convulsions, until I eventually crawled to the phone and rang the police, asking for Detective Scott.

When I gave him my name and told him what happened, he took over. The house swarmed with police, and I was whisked away with a new name and put into a boarding school in Switzerland.

Well, a new surname.

I didn’t realize it then, but it was protective custody.

For the next four years, I grieved for my family and acted out. I fought and tried to run away multiple times. If it hadn’t been for a strict headmaster and one compassionate nun, I don’t know what I would’ve become.

Sister Maxine told me to seek peace in my heart for what ailed me. But I couldn’t tell anyone, Detective Scott said, or they would find me and kill me. And so, I did as she said—I chose a purpose for my life.

Revenge.

I would grow powerful and find this Carlos, no matter how long it took. Then destroy him.

You see, I knew when I turned eighteen, I would inherit one hundred million dollars. Detective Scott had visited me only once after getting me settled in the school, giving me enough information to act on when I was old enough.

The life insurances, cash, and assets of my family were mine.

And the key, which I had never given to the Detective.

I’d forgotten and then was too scared.

It sits in a box, along with files the now FBI agent had given me.

You traitor, Beaufort.

What had my father done?

I didn’t want the answers to that question—just wanted revenge. I didn’t want to know if my father, who I had loved and looked up to, could be responsible for what I’d witnessed that day.

So, I didn’t.

Instead, I focused on avenging my mother and sister. And my father. I started putting together a plan. Joined the marines, built a strong body, invested the money, and began to learn about buying businesses. Fast forwarding a lot of years, by the time I left the marines, I was a billionaire.

It was in the marines I met my two best friends, Nathan and Decker.

One night, in the dark deserts of the Middle East, I finally told them my story. We’d returned from a two-hour shootout with the enemy and had barely left with our lives. I wasn’t sure I would return to U.S, soil with my life at the end of this tour and needed to know someone else would hunt down Carlos if I was gone.

Nathan and Decker, as it turned out, shared a hatred for the mafias as well. They each have their own stories and a desire for vengeance similar to mine.

It was like the stars aligned.

Mafias caused a whole raft of pain and suffering around the world, with the drugs they pedaled, people and sex trafficking, and more. While taking on that motherfucking huge job was a recipe for failure—mostly because there was corrupt law enforcement, which allowed it to go on—it didn’t mean we were going to sit back and do nothing.

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