Page 27 of Burdens
It wasn’t as large as I remembered it to be, but the smell, aside from the stench, was still the same—musty and damp with a hint of honey. No matter how many times he’d stuck me in here to “build my character,” I’d never figured out where the smell of honey came from.
My finger brushed against the cold stones making up the back walls until they nudged against the shallow marks I’d left behind a long time ago. Wisps of ancient memories flickered at the edges of my vision, the echoes of his words still bouncing against these walls to haunt me.
“Such a disgrace.”
“I can’t believe you’re the only child I have and this is who I have to give my whole empire to when it’s time.”
“Your mother should have gotten rid of you when she still had the chance.”
I could still see the look of disdain on his tanned and harsh face as he looked at me curled in the corner of this cell. I could still remember the endless nights spent sleeping on my stomach on this same hard floor, pain biting each of my thoughts until it became too unbearable to stay awake.
The physical scars may have faded, but the memories never seemed to. I’d tried to shove the images away, to free myself of his constant reminders that I hadn’t been the son he’d aspired me to be, but it had never been that easy.
I’d struggled to rid myself of the stains his words left, the marks his rage painted me with. I’d tried really hard by being the best at everything, by trying to fight the parts of him in me when it bubbled too close to the surface.
My father only ever loved one thing. It wasn’t me or my mother, or even his family. The only thing he ever cared about was his title and the money his businesses and organization brought him.
When I was younger, I’d convinced myself that once I passed my initiation, things would change. He’d become the father I’d always imagined he’d be. The love that people tell you every parent has for their child would finally turn on and it would just click for him that I was more than just a means to an end.
But I’d been foolish to ever think that would happen.
Truth was, my father had never been a father to me. He’d never cared about anything that related to me except my taking over if anything were to happen to him. I’d known that since I was a child, but I reminded myself that things were different now.
I might be his prisoner, but I would find a way out because I wasn’t the weak kid who’d always cower against his father’s wrath. I was my mother’s son and I would fight my way out, one way or the other just like she’d done all those years ago.
I kept looking around the cell, inspecting every brick for any loose foundation. When I was younger, I used to spend hours doing the same thing, only to never find anything, but it’d been almost thirty years since my last time here, so one could hope.
But I wasn’t known to have much luck.
At least I knew where I was on the property. I didn’t know much about my father—bonding wasn’t really his thing—but I knew one thing for certain. He was sentimental about this house, and I highly doubted he’d made many renovations since my uncle, my mother, and I escaped or ceded any land of his.
I mean, he didn’t have to.
My father’s world was divided into five territories run by three notorious families—the Alaouis, the Slimanis, and finally my father’s, the Barreras.
The Slimanis had long relinquished most of their territories to my father, his soldiers running the majority of their operations. He’d tried to do the same to the Alaouis, but they were currently his only rival still withstanding.
And it wasn’t for his lack of trying.
This part of the cartel had never been made public knowledge because each clan kept their operations concealed and hidden through their multibillion companies. The Alaouis had their jewelry behemoth corporation to use for their money laundering andsubjectacquisitions while my father monopolized the world of luxury textiles.
My job at the Bureau gave me one of the best clearances and I still wouldn’t have known this if it wasn’t for being born in it. Omar had been training me to overtake everything right untilthe day I left, but from the way we’d parted ways, I doubted he’d had me in mind to carry his legacy.
The only legacy my father had left me with was a simple mantra. It was the same one that I repeated to myself as I closed my eyes, gliding down the wall on the far back. I tipped my head back onto the cold wall, thinking of my next steps while listening to the small droplets of water hitting the hard floor to the beat of a measured cadence.
I have to get out.
It must have been two or three days since I’d woken up for the first time, but I wasn’t exactly sure since it had been eerily quiet after Amalia had left me with a throbbing jaw.
Besides, it wasn’t like I received regular visitors or had a window in my cell to indicate how long it’d been. The only source of light I had was from the few flickering light bulbs along the hallway wall.
But this wasn’t new to me. I’d tried to clock the days and weeks in the past, but eventually they all blurred together.
The notion of time here always seemed to disappear. Hours quickly became days and before you knew it, you were passed out from dehydration and hunger.
My stomach growled at the thought of food. Amalia had been true to her words and a tall, skinny kid who couldn’t be older than fourteen years old had left some food in my cell. He’d barely looked at me when he slid the plate through the cell’s bars before hurrying back to wherever he’d come from.
I’d watched him disappear, hoping he wasn’t going through the same things I’d been through as a child because that was a worse punishment than being stuck in here.
