Chapter 3 VENGEANCE BEGINS

Kelvin's POV

The moment I stepped out of the forest, something in me had changed forever.

My clothes were soaked with dirt and dried blood. My legs wobbled, but I didn't stop. I didn't even look back. Not at the dungeon. Not at my father's body.

I couldn't.

If I did, I would break.

And I didn't have time to break.

I had to think.

Had to breathe.

Had to act.

I walked for what felt like hours. The sun had already begun its climb into the sky, and with every step I took, the pain in my chest deepened. The world around me moved as if nothing had happened. The streets buzzed with morning life shop owners opening stalls, students rushing to school, taxis honking in traffic.

But I wasn't part of their world anymore.

I crossed the road near the corner shop my father used to buy bread from every Sunday. The old woman who sold the loaves glanced at me and smiled, then quickly looked away when she noticed the stains on my shirt.

I didn't blame her.

I looked like a walking nightmare.

Eventually, I reached the small compound we called home. The moment I stepped through the gate, my younger brother came running to me.

"Kelvin!"

He stopped in his tracks as soon as he saw my face.

"Is he... is Daddy with you?"

I swallowed hard. My lips parted to speak, but no words came out. My brother's eyes began to water.

"No..." he whispered.

I dropped to my knees and hugged him tight.

"He's gone," I finally said.

His small arms wrapped around me, and together, we cried.

My mother rushed out next, wiping her hands on a piece of cloth. The moment she saw me, her hands froze mid-air.

"Kelvin?"

I shook my head.

Her legs gave way.

She collapsed into the dirt, wailing.

I had never heard my mother cry like that before. It wasn't loud. It was soft. Broken. The kind of sound that slipped through the cracks of someone who had held on for too long.

That day, I buried the boy I used to be.

And something else, something sharper, colder, was born in me.

Three days passed.

Three quiet, miserable days.

We didn't tell anyone what happened. No police. No neighbors. No friends. No one. We all knew the truth wouldn't help. This wasn't a normal murder. This was a mafia execution. The kind you don't talk about if you want to keep breathing.

I spent those days locked inside my room, going through every conversation I ever had with my father. Every warning. Every coded message. Every memory.

He knew this could happen. He must've known.

And yet... he never prepared me.

Or maybe he did, in his own way.

Tucked inside his old leather bag, hidden beneath a false bottom, I found a small notebook.

It was filled with scribbled names, locations, passwords, and something else, drawings. Diagrams of buildings. Routes. Symbols I didn't understand.

But one name kept appearing again and again.

"Rico."

I didn't know who Rico was, but my father had circled that name more than a dozen times. Under it, he'd written:

"Watch your back. He's Lord Sampson's shadow."

That night, I couldn't sleep.

I sat by the window, watching the moonlight pour over the rooftops.

I wanted revenge. I wanted to burn every part of Lord Sampson's empire to the ground. But I wasn't stupid. Going in blind would only get me killed.

I needed power.

I needed knowledge.

I needed allies.

But most of all... I needed patience.

So I waited.

And then, I got my first opportunity.

It happened on a Thursday evening.

I was sitting at a street corner, pretending to read a book while keeping an eye on the men who entered the club across the road, The Den. It was a mafia hangout spot. Exclusive. Dangerous. My father once told me that's where most of the deals were signed and sealed.

And then I saw him.

Rico.

At least, I was 90% sure it was him. He matched the sketch in the notebook, scar across his right cheek, gold watch on his left wrist, tattoo of a serpent curling up his neck.

He stepped out of a black SUV, surrounded by three other men.

And that's when I made my move.

I followed him.

At a distance.

Shadow to shadow.

Block after block.

Eventually, the other men split off, and Rico entered a rundown apartment building by himself. I waited fifteen minutes, memorizing every detail.

Then I followed him in.

The hallway smelled of mildew and old cigarettes. I climbed the stairs slowly, step by step, until I reached the second floor.

I pressed my ear to the door he entered.

Silence.

I drew a deep breath.

And I knocked.

Seconds passed.

Then footsteps.

The door opened halfway.

"What the hell"

I didn't wait.

I shoved the door with all my weight, slamming it into his face. He stumbled backward, shouting, but I was already inside, locking the door behind me.

He reached for a gun.

I kicked it across the floor.

"Who the f**k are you?" he shouted.

I picked up a chair and raised it high.

"My name doesn't matter," I said. "But the name of the man you killed does."

He narrowed his eyes, blood trickling from his nose.

"Wait"

"Kelvin," I said. "Peter's son."

His entire expression changed.

Rico tried to reach for a blade this time, but I swung the chair at his hand.

"Don't bother."

I pointed to his leg, now slightly bleeding.

"I'm not here to kill you. Yet."

He groaned. "Then what do you want?"

"Information."

"And if I don't give it?"

I leaned in close.

"I'll remind you what it feels like to bleed."

He stared at me, then laughed through the pain. "You're just a boy."

"No," I replied. "I used to be. Not anymore."

He fell silent.

I gave him two options, tell me what I wanted to know or lose a few teeth tonight and still tell me later.

He chose wisely.

From Rico, I learned something I wasn't expecting.

Lord Sampson had more enemies than I thought, even inside his own circle. Men who feared him. Men who followed him only because they were too scared to rebel.

And some of those men... were ready to jump ship.

But they needed a leader.

Someone young.

Hungry.

Unpredictable.

That night, I didn't just walk away with information. I walked away with something more dangerous.

A whisper of rebellion.

If I could pull the right strings, I could break Lord Sampson's empire from the inside out.

But rebellion had a price.

And I would pay for it soon.

Because the next day... someone knocked on my door.

A stranger in a leather coat. Cold eyes. Hands in his pocket.

He didn't introduce himself.

He just said, "Lord Sampson knows what you're up to."

Then he handed me something wrapped in cloth.

I unwrapped it slowly.

It was my father's broken wristwatch.

Blood still crusted around the edges.

I looked up.

But the man was gone.