51

Isabella

Damon scoffed and looked away, wearing a frown mixed with an expression that I hadn't seen before, and frankly, it made me apprehensive.

Perhaps I truly didn't know this man, and I was getting way over my head with him. I wasn't ready for this.

“I spent my whole life until I was 13 in the lower City.” Damon started talking in a low voice with his face turned away from me.

“In that place, I barely saw the sun, and buildings were packed tightly together.

Every street smelled like feces and death. There was no bright side to things. Even the beach was littered with filth, and every so often, we would find the body of a child or two washed up by the waves.

I heard that your father became the mafia King when I was younger, but frankly, most of us who grew up in the lower City didn't care. It didn't matter who was the mafia king; after all, the lower City was the mafia's playground for farming poor toys like us.

Every week or two, I would lose a childhood friend to some mysterious