Bound By Power, Torn By Love

KAYLA'S POV

“Dad….”

“Why….?” I let out a horrific scream but my dry throat could only whisper.

My eyes caught the sight of the dying man on the floor. His body was covered with bruises and sores from bullets and weapons which he had endured in the past.

“Please..” he begged my father, blood dripping from his mouth and other bruises on his face.

My father squinted before him and placed his palms on the man’s bleeding forehead.

“RULE NUMBER 1” he started, as he took some of the man’s blood and licked it with his tongue, letting out a callous chuckle.

“No one takes what belongs to me or invades my turf” he warned, his voice echoing with the horror of his brutality.

“You failed at that and your blood will spill” my father threatened as he withdrew his knife from his sides, smashing it on the ceramic floor.

The gruesome scene sent tears welled up in my eyes that I could barely resist.

As a girl of twenty, all I have ever wished for myself was having a peaceful home void of violence and cruelty.

But that seemed totally impossible and delusional.

My crime? Having the devil as a father. Being the only child of the most deadly Mafia Capo of the Bad Souls Familia.

A man who both humans and spirits dreaded.

Witnessing my father slaughtering one of his consigliere sent streaks of tears down my cheeks.

“Please Sir…pardon…me” the dying man’s voice came again, interrupting my thoughts, this time laced with hopelessness.

Crossing my father's boundaries was the last thing any human would attempt as that would totally mean your doom.

I stared at the man one last time, my heart wrecking with pain and I just wished I could save him from the cold hands of my father. But that was unrealistic.

“You dare not beg me..” my father said in hushed tones.

“You invited death yourself and you would watch it swallow you whole” he smirked,his lips widened into a devilish smile.

I couldn't help but glare at the deadly eyes and muscular arms of the devil himself; my dad.

“Please Sir..” the man pleaded again as my father placed the barrel of the gun on his head.

“A more plea and I would send your head flying to the other end of this room”

“You went against my orders and you deserve death” he said before squeezing the triggers.

My father breathes deeply, small droplets of red thick blood decorating his hands and face.

Blood pooled beneath his feet as he looked at the corpse he had coldly murdered.

“Rest in pieces, child” he mocked, hitting the gun's handle on the corpse's forehead.

I could no longer resist the ocean of tears on my eyes and I allowed them to flow freely, their droplets falling on the strides of my cloth.

I watched quietly like a child who had been denied candies as my father walked through the corpse. After making sure it was completely dead, he heaved a heavy sigh of relief and lifted his head towards me, his face lit up with a wicked smile.

I was not only pitiful for the dead man, I was also angry and frustrated at the man I call my father who has no value for human blood.

“Life doesn't favour the weak” my father stated, his expression stoic.

I stole a glance at him, my eyes filled with hate.

In the eyes of the public, he was a corporate businessman, thanks to his successful business,a sweet husband and a caring father.

But in secret, he is a man whose brutality makes everyone around shiver.

“Child, it seems difficult for you to understand the laws controlling life” he states, his expression stoic.

“But I think you would understand the fact that life never favours the weak in due time” he added, placing his hands on my shoulders.

My stomach churns at his touch and I adjust slightly, trying to escape his harsh presence.

“But this conversation would be for another day” he said, tapping me slowly on the back.

He placed a call to one of his minions and then moved towards the armchair at the other end of the story room.

In not less than a minute, a man opened the door and led the corpse outside the room.

“Come, sit here” he gestured to the seat beside him.

I walked slowly towards him, my feet clicking rhythmically on the marble floor, each step bringing me closer to the man I had always dreaded.

I stole a glance at his face and just then, it looked like it was carved from hard rocks.

He cleared his throat and tilted his head towards me as I sat down a few metres away from him.

“You are twenty right?” He began, his voice as commanding and domineering as it has always been.

I nodded my head, totally oblivious of where he was heading to.

He looked directly into my eyes and when he saw he had all the attention he wanted, he continued.

“The Bad Souls Familia is a powerful empire and as you know, our legacy needs to be protected” he paused and then gulped in a glass of water.

“It is your duty to protect our secrets and carry on my legacy right?” He asked me.

I nodded my head to his words, unsure if it was a better response or not.

“I have found you a man, Kayla”

“You are getting married to Anthonio Charles next week” he dropped the bombshell.

“You shall marry him and bring forth heirs to carry on with our legacy and Charles is the perfect man to protect my secrets- I mean, our secrets” he continued.

I opened my mouth wide in bewilderment, different thoughts flying through my mind.

“Was he really kidding me?” I muttered under my breath.

Charles was one of his faithful minions who had gained a lot of favour and respect from my father due to his perfect skills in handling any opposser or any other questionable operation.

My breath seized and for a while, I struggled to put words together.

“But..dad”I stammered,my tongue betraying the pain which embedded my heart.

“I am just twenty, i have never planned marriage for myself” I finally defended, knowing fully well that my opinion would hardly count.

“That's my decision, Kayla and it would be followed strictly” his voice was stern and harsh, sending cold shivers down my spine.

“All arrangements had begun for the wedding and you would be sealed matrimonially with Charles next week” he dropped his last words, as he stole the last glance at him and walked out, leaving me all alone in the world of my own thoughts.

Tears freely streamed down my cheeks as it dawned on me that I was trapped in the world of my father. I was living a life where my decisions, opinions or plans would never count.

I watched helplessly as all my hopes and dreams of being the most sought-after tech analyst crashed before my own eyes.

It was certain that my mother could not help me in this situation as she had always been the submissive and obedient woman her husband would always command.

I stood up and walked out, my head hanging with endless thoughts.

I had never had any form of intimacy with any man before and my father was about giving me to one of his men and someone I also dreaded.

My heart skipped at the mere thought of Charles holding me with his cold hands which had murdered a lot of souls.

I imagined him kissing and touching or being inside of me and the mere thought of that made my heart sting with bitterness.

Tossing and turning around the king-sized bed which occupied my room, a thought flew into my mind.

The wedding was next week. Basically, I have a few days left to make my own choices and take any action which would suit my happiness.

I deserve happiness as it was obvious my life was specially to please another man who had never pleased me; my father.

I walked upstairs to my mother's room and finding her sleeping peacefully in her dark room sent waves of happiness down my spine.

I sighted new bruises on her arms and face and it dawned on me that she had gone through another spree of beating from the beast again.

I felt no pity for her since she had failed to let us escape this bondage called home.

She loves her husband and she must endure any toxic trait of his even if it meant her own life wasting.

I closed the door quietly, as it was the perfect hour for me to carry out my own safety plans.

I tip-toed back to my room and made my makeup more grungier and sexier.

I stared at the reflection of myself in the mirror and took a deep breath.

The red dress I wore clung to my bruised skin; a perfect match for my plans.

My bruises were all exposed and in the soft lights of my room, they looked like shadows.

They were the truth for the life of lies I had always lived; a life of violence and brutality which was always hidden under a bunch of endless lies and pretense.

My father had forced me into detesting clingy dresses but tonight, this dress would serve my plans better.