Father vs Son

The cold steel of the gun pressed against my forehead, and all I could see were The Reaper’s hollow, emotionaless eyes.

My heart raced as his finger curled around the trigger. Would this be my last breath?

Time seemed to freeze. Every noise faded, every thought blurred, until a sudden explosion of color was seen in the skies. Fireworks. Bright, dazzling, and loud. The noise broke through the tension like a knife, startling The Reaper.

Finally! A Chance!

I didn’t hesitate. Summoning courage I didn’t know I had, I twisted free from his grip. My body moved before my mind could catch up. The knife he'd used to pin my cloth to the wall was left behind as I scrambled out of his reach, slipping beneath the balcony’s edge.

I crouched low, pressing my body against the cold stone as I tried to steady the pace of my breathing, praying he couldn’t hear the pounding of my heart.

The Reaper cursed under his breath. “Coward,” he muttered, his shadow stretching above me as he paced the balcony. I was frozen in place.

Then, another voice broke the silence.

“Father.”

Victor’s voice was strained, almost uncertain.

I inched closer to the edge, peeping through a gap in the stone. Victor stood at the entrance to the balcony, his posture stiff.

“Well?” The Reaper barked.

Victor hesitated. “The mission… it didn’t go as planned.”

The words barely left his mouth before the sound of a slap echoed through the night. I gasped, quickly covering my mouth with my hand so I wouldn't get caught.

“You failed me again,” The Reaper snarled. “You think you’re ready to lead this family? You can’t even handle a simple task!”

Victor didn’t respond. He stood there, his face turned to the side not daring to look up, the outline of his cheek already red and swelling.

“You’re a disappointment, Victor,” The Reaper continued, his voice cold and unforgiving. “You’ll never amount to anything. You're a sorry excuse for a son.”

Victor’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, but he said nothing.

The Reaper sighed. “Go find Camilla and take her home. I’m leaving for a business trip, but I’ll be back in time for the wedding.”

My breath hitched. Camilla? Oh shit! He was talking about me.

I stayed hidden as Victor left the balcony, his steps heavy with humiliation. When the coast was clear, I got out of my hiding spot and hurried back to Camilla's room.

***************

My hands trembled as I changed into the elegant gown I’d worn earlier. Every nerve in my body was on edge, but I couldn’t let it show.

Through the window, I saw Victor in the garden, speaking to one of the maids. He was probably sending her to fetch me. I had to act quickly.

I rushed downstairs and found Camilla's papi near the doorway. His presence felt comforting amidst all that had just happened to me.

“I have to go,” I whispered, my voice shaking despite my efforts to stay calm.

He pulled me into a hug, his lips brushing against my forehead. “Stay strong, mi niña,” he said softly. “Everything will be fine.”

Why did hearing those words make me emotional?

Victor spotted me as soon as I stepped outside. His face was swollen from The Reaper’s slap, the red mark standing out against his pale skin.

The maid scurried off as he dismissed her with a wave of his hand.

“Get in,” he said sharply, his voice laced with barely suppressed anger. Rage written all over his face.

I hesitated for a moment, then stepped into the car.

“Are you okay?” I asked cautiously, glancing at his injured face.

His jaw tightened. He didn't say a word.

The drive was tense, the air between us thick with unspoken words. I turned to look out the window, my eyes catching a familiar figure near the gates. Diego. He stood there, his gaze following the car as we drove away.

A chill ran down my spine.

************

When we arrived at Victor’s mansion, he didn’t waste any time. He grabbed me by the arm and dragged me inside.

“Victor what are you doing?,” I said, trying to pull away from his grip.

He ignored me, his silence more terrifying than any words could have been.

He dragged me past my room and towards his. Oh shit! I already knew where this was going and I wasn't going to be a victim.

“I said let me go!" I screamed, but it was no use.

As we entered his bedroom, Victor’s expression darkened. He grabbed my shoulders, his grip firm as he leaned in close. “Victor, I—" His lips crashed against mine in a rough, unwelcome kiss.

We fell onto his bed.

Faster than I could think, he ripped off my clothes and pushed my legs apart, sinking his dick inside me. I groaned and arched, but all he did was move at a faster pace.

His fingers clenched over my thighs and he moved harder, deeper, taking in long, fast strokes.

I gasped for air as he switched to his fingers, “Victor Stop it" I screamed.

He didn't listen, he slid his fingers deeper causing me to scream even louder, I arched my back even more, it felt like I had hit climax.

I did!

Soon enough his sheets were stained all over with my juice. I looked into his eyes and all I saw was a demon, the way his eyes trailed all over me as if searching for something.

It wasn't over yet. He pressed his lips against my neck and kissed me, his tongue moving all over my sensitive skin.

I just couldn't physically take anymore of this. With the last ounce of strength left in me, I pushed him away.

“You bastard"

"Fuck," he mumbled.

Something in my voice must have reached him because he froze. For a moment, he just stared at me, his breathing heavy and ragged. Then, without a word, he let go and stormed out of the room.

************

Victor’s POV

The whiskey burned as it slid down my throat, but it wasn’t enough to drown the bitterness inside me. I poured another glass, my hands trembling with anger and frustration.

I would never be enough for my father. No matter how hard I tried, no matter what I did, I was always a failure in his eyes.

“You’ll never amount to anything,” his voice echoed in my mind.

I clenched my fists, the glass shaking in my hand. My entire life had been about proving myself, but nothing was ever good enough. In his eyes, I was no one.

The thought of Camilla crossed my mind. “I’ll marry her,” I muttered, staring at the empty glass in my hand. “And when I do, I’ll take over. I’ll overthrow them all—my father, his men, everyone who doubted me.”

The whiskey began to take effect, my thoughts growing hazy as the warmth spread through my body. My legs felt unsteady, and I stumbled toward the counter to pour another drink, falling down in the process.

Before I could hit the ground, a pair of soft hands caught me. They were gentle, steadying me as I swayed on my feet.

I didn’t open my eyes, too tired and drunk to care who it was. The hands guided me to a chair, their touch careful and deliberate.

A cool cloth pressed against my face, soothing the sting of my father’s slap.

“Just because you’ve had a rough life,” a soft voice said, filled with quiet strength, “doesn’t mean you have to make everyone else’s life miserable.”

The words cut through the haze, settling deep in my mind.

I tried to open my eyes, tried to see who the voice belonged to, but darkness claimed me before I could.