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CHAPTER 30

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO,

Antonio Dante's pov,

“Guards!”

“Come and take him,” I heard. A uniform match of boots flashed before my eyes instantly.

I was fading in and out of consciousness.

“No honey, what are you doing?”

“He wants me to act like one of the bad guys. Fine, I will be the bad guy.”

“You can't possibly-”

“He has to learn how to show some respect.”

“I wasn't wrong,” I muttered, trying to focus on their faces.

“My baby,” my mother whispered but making exactly no attempt to help me in my situation.

I was wrong. So fucking wrong. Tears pierced my eyes. I was so betrayed.

“None of you are good,” I whispered, smiling bitterly.

“Not any one of you.”

The thumping had stopped and now all I felt were hands on my upper arms.

“Please Don, I beg of you.”

Through my hazed vision, I could see the shape my mother had formed with her hands. She was begging. To my dad. For him to let me go.

“How pathetic,” I commented. I didn't care if she was trying to do a favour for me. She was still one
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