Reign of a Billionaire : A Dark Mafia Enemies-to-Lovers Romance

Chapter 8Kingston, 10 Years Old

Torture center.

The only time I saw the light of day was when I was brought here to train. Snow covered the ground as far as the eye could see—even the trees in the far distance were cloaked in white.

Everything about this place screamed nightmare. Dark and damp castle walls. Ghosts roaming the halls at night, some of them laughing, others crying. Twilight had arrived once more, and longing slammed into me. I yearned to feel the breeze on my face. To smell the air that I knew would be as fresh as the snowfall. I’d even stand in the snow if I could.

It’d been two weeks.

I was brought to this godforsaken facility every day. Some of the boys called it the training center. Or the death ring. Ivan Petrov said it was a room designed for hand-to-hand combat and weapons training. The looks on the fighters’ faces told me there was more to it.

I got my confirmation as I waited for my turn in the ring.

My chest clenched as I watched a guard carry out a dead boy’s body. He had the mangled form thrown over his shoulder like he was taking out the trash. Would that be me next?

I cracked my knuckles.

“I hate this fucking place,” I muttered to myself, then winced at the foul language that seemed to have sprouted in me overnight. My brothers would have my head if they heard me.

Something clogged in my chest, remembering the last time I saw them. It seemed like a lifetime ago. I missed them and my little sister. Was she okay? Or did these assholes get her too?

“Remember, boy.” Ivan Petrov’s snarky voice came from behind me. “Win this one and I’ll let you know where your baby sister is.”

You’re a survivor, my little Kingston. You were born to reign in every life.

My mother’s voice, which I hadn’t thought of in so long, came back to me, renewing my strength. It didn’t matter that I wasn’t home. I would reign over this fucking arena and kill anyone who tried to end me.

Including my own father, who was the reason I was here.

He owed these criminals a debt that he didn’t pay, so they’d gone after Rora. Instead, they got me. At least I hoped they’d only got me.

Without acknowledging the man, I made my way into the ring, determined to give them a show they’d never forget.

I stood at the center, my eyes locked on the boy at least five years older than me. Judging by his expression, he had something to prove. Not that I could blame him. Whispers claimed that he’d been born here and never knew anything or anyone but the people in this facility.

His cheek was bruised; his eyes blank.

At ten, I was bigger than the average kid, but this guy dwarfed me. I was weak. Unprepared.

The punch to my face came out of nowhere. I heard the crunch, then felt the searing pain in my skull as the blood gushed out of my nose.

Ignoring the blood, I cracked my jaw, keeping my attention on my opponent. Then I pulled back my fist and released it into the boy’s ribs with all my might. I didn’t stop there. Alternating fists, I punched nonstop. All the pent-up frustration and anger from the last two weeks boiled over.

The boy’s eyes widened, his breaths coming in ragged pants, but I was too far gone to consider his fear. It was kill or be killed.

Fury surged. At my opponent. At this fucked-up place. At the vermin surrounding this wannabe-gladiator arena.

A crimson haze crept along the edges of my vision, pushing everything and everyone out, and leaving me alone with a boy like me. We were both victims.

Another punch and he fell to his knees, blinking in confusion before falling over. The dust cloud around him. Gurgling sounds filled the air.

I froze, my mind finally falling silent, as I stared down at the body. The red fog of rage lifted, and I braced for the consequences of my actions.

A man appeared out of nowhere with a black bag while I stood immobile, unable to comprehend what just happened.

“Punctured lung,” a man muttered as the boy choked on his own blood, his eyes showing life for the first time in the two weeks I’d known him. He spit out blood, but something solid hit my boot.

I lowered down, wiping at the blood on my shoe, and spotted a tooth. I reached for it, along with a fistful of sand. As it moved through my fingers like an hourglass, his life slowly faded away.

That day, I became a ghost.