Chapter 150

(trigger warning: mentions of domestic abuse, drugs and, violence)

Their whirlwind romance was steamy and passionate. Paparazzi often caught them in compromising positions, and in the middle of intimate moments. They were plastered on tabloids and celebrity gossip blogs. The city was obsessed with their love story and their wedding. Everywhere they turned, details of the wedding were published. Who would design the wedding dress? Where would the ceremony and reception take place? What catering company would have the honor of feeding the guests. No one could escape from it.
They were happy… at first. Wedding planning was a period of bliss. In his joy, he even allowed Grace to invite Will to the wedding. As much as he hated him, seeing Will didn’t bother him. Perhaps there was genuine love blooming between him and Grace. Maybe he would get a happily ever after.
Yeah, right, he thought. Their harmony was short lived. After a stunningly romantic and heated honeymoon, they had to come back to real life. Grace started talking about Will more. After it was small mentions of him here and there. It was irritating, but he left it alone. But then it escalating to Grace comparing everything to what Will would do or how he would react. It created a lot of tension between them and soon they were fighting a lot.
***
“I’m tired of hearing about him, Grace!” he yelled. “I swear to God, every other fucking word out of your mouth is his name! Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?”
“I’m sorry,” Grace yelled back. “But I have nothing else to compare any of my experiences to!”
“I’m giving you new experiences, a new life! Why do you need to compare anything?” he paused, and an icy realization washed over him. “You still love him.”
“No! I don’t.”
“Yes, you do. All you do it talk about him. It’s like you can’t wait to bring him in conversation. You love him!”
“No!” She repeated. He noticed that even though she defended herself, and denied that she loved Will, she never once said she loved him. “You made me promises! And you haven’t delivered!”
“We’re married!” he shouted. “What more do you want from me!”
“I should never have left him!”
***
That was the first time he put his hands on her. Of course, he apologized profusely. They cried and begged for forgiveness. He promised he’d never do it again. It was a lie. He did believe that first time was accident. He truly hadn’t wanted to hurt her. But every time after that… well, that was a different story entirely.
Around that time, his father approached him. It was time to learn the family business. He was so excited. His father had always pushed him away and alienated him from the rest of the family. It was disheartening and lonely. He’d always felt alone and unwanted, a vacant space in this soul that all his emotions seemed to hide in. Perhaps that opportunity would reignite him. It could help him inject new life into his marriage and push them back out of the abyss they’d fallen into.
Unfortunately, it only managed to make things worse.
On his eighteenth birthday, he was gifted with a large back tattoo. It was a dragon. It took up his entire back and one of the mythical creature’s claws extended on the back of his neck. He loved it. It was powerful and sexy, and he felt as mythical and untouchable as that dragon himself. His father told him that it was the symbol of their family. He didn’t understand what that meant then. And what it would mean for him in the future.
***
His body buzzed with excitement as he drove to his father’s home. He’d not been there for a long time. Being personally invited by his father was high praise. Not even his older brothers were given that honor. Instead of feeling jealous, they were skeptical, worried even.
“I don’t know, bro. Dad is suddenly taking an interest in you? Even had you get that crazy tattoo? It seems off to me. Suspicious,” his oldest brother had said.
“You’re just jealous,” he quipped.
“No, I’m not. If he’s really interested in your actual future, then I’m happy for you. I just don’t trust him. All of our lives he wanted nothing to do with us. He even went out of his way to not be around. And all of sudden he wants you to learn the family business? That doesn’t seem suspicious to you?”
“No,” he defended, not sounding convinced at all. “I’ve got to go. I’m pulling up to the house now.”
“Good luck, I guess.”
He pulled up to the house and let the attendant park his car. He walked through the grand entryway, and he found his father sitting in the dining room.
“My son!” he called out, standing with his arms wide. “Welcome home!”
After a long awaited hug, they drove from the house to an undisclosed location. The scenery became less posh as they got closer and closer to the slums. People around stared as the fancy car flew past. Others paid no attention. What was the most unsettling thing, was the people who looked upon them with familiarity. The arrived at the docks, and he was hit instantly with the scent of fish and dirty salt water as the stepped out the car.
“Dad, where is this? Why are we here?”
“You’re learning the business son. This is my office,” a sly smile spread across his face. The expression twisted from a proud father to something more sinister. They walked into a dilapidated warehouse. Shattered glass windows, chipped paint, and the scent of decay decorated the space. He hated it. Several men milled about, moving large crates, or smaller packets he couldn’t quite see in the dim light. There was a bright light at the far end of the warehouse, and it seemed that was their ultimate destination.
The closer they got, the more he regretted his decision to indulge his father. The tattoo on his back seemed to burn and twist, propelling him forward. The light came from a small room. The room housed two long tables. The tables were littered with vast array of tools and supplies. Many people stood around them, creating small packages of… something. Armed men stood around them, ensuring that that whatever was going on, went on smoothly and without protest.
As he watched, he began to realize what was going on.
“Dad,” his voice quivered with shock and fear. “This is the family business.”
“Import and distribution,” his father answered with pride. “We are one the largest drug empires in the world. And under my rule, we have practically doubled our territory.”
“Dad… I don’t know if I can be a part of this.”
“You don’t have a choice now,” his voice was happy, but dark. “You’ve seen this, and you’re marked. You won’t be able to do anything else.”
***
His life changed after that day. Over time, after the initial shock, he found that he enjoyed having his father’s approval, and his marriage did see improvement. Flirting with danger made him feel alive. Grace noticed the change and the sex between was phenomenal. But then she found out what he did, and things changed. He became cold, mean, reclusive. And then… his father needed to have someone “taken care of.”
The thrill of the weight of the gun in his hand… it was the weight of power. When he pulled that trigger and watched the bullet tear through a body, he knew he’d never know that thrill again. It was strange how easy it came. He wanted to be scared and disgusted with himself. But all he could think about was wanting to do it again. His father was so proud and over time, he took over as the head of the cartel.
Power and fear fed him, and it became all he craved. Grace noticed the change in him, and their arguments became more explosive.
***
“Who even are you?” she cried, holding the side of her face. He’d backhanded her when she demanded he tell her where he had been.
“You don’t demand anything of me!” he yelled at her. She flinched. “I am the king in this house!”
“What kind of king defaces his queen?” she whimpered. “You promised you’d never do this again!”
He rushed at her, grabbing her by the neck, and pushing her up against the wall.
“You don’t tell me what to do,” he whispered. The sound was dangerous and menacing, and Grace cried out. “I’ll do whatever I want. Especially to you. Just because I’m a king, that doesn’t mean you’re a queen.”
“Then what am I?” she wheezed.
“You are who I say you are. You exist for me to use. That’s all.”
“Please let me go,” she sobbed. He pressed her harder into the wall.
“I’ll never let you go. You came to me, remember? You chose me. This is the consequence of that choice.”
***
After that conversation, Grace backed down and did her best not to anger him. Neither one of them were the same people they were from that first day Grace found herself in his bed. Now she was in his prison.

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