Alessandro and Jaxtyn were still walking down the school hallway like royalty, their steps measured and deliberate, as if the world itself was theirs to command. Not a care in the world, not a hint of fear—just two heirs moving through their domain.
Silence hung between them for a moment until Jaxtyn suddenly remembered something. He decided to break it.
"Dude, that reminds me… you haven't told me how dope your summer holiday was," Jaxtyn said, glancing at him as their strides matched, almost as if their legs were one.
Alessandro's lips curved into a faint, controlled smile. "That's because it wasn't really dope or cool, as you think it was," he replied smoothly, keeping his gaze forward.
"What do you mean?" Jaxtyn asked, confused. "You didn't do anything?"
Alessandro chuckled quietly, almost a whisper. "You think the old man would give me a break to catch some stupid, useless fun? Not even once, Jaxtyn."
Jaxtyn nodded, fully understanding. He knew Alessandro's grandfather well—a man of such authority that he seemed more myth than human. Ruthless, cold, and feared by almost everyone, he ruled not just his empire but, in many ways, the entire underworld. People didn't cross him without paying dearly. Yet Alessandro, his grandson, dared to speak to him as "the old man." Something no one else could imagine doing.
"So… you were just working the whole summer?" Jaxtyn asked, curiosity pricking him.
"Every damn day," Alessandro muttered, escaping a sigh as if the weight of it still lingered.
They reached the end of the hallway and began mounting the stairs that led to the seven floors of the school building. Alessandro was about to ask Jaxtyn how his summer compared to his when a careless girl suddenly barreled past them, practically knocking him over. She didn't even glance back to apologize.
Alessandro's sharp eyes followed her, expecting Jaxtyn to step in. But Jaxtyn didn't. So, of course, Alessandro did.
"Hey, you!" His voice cut through the hallway like ice, startling the girl.
She didn't seem to hear him. Or maybe she didn't care. She waved vaguely, almost dismissively, before continuing up the stairs. Alessandro clenched his jaw. No one disrespected him—not like this.
He started forward, ready to catch up with her, but Jaxtyn's hand on his shoulder stopped him.
"Just let it go, Alessandro," Jaxtyn said, his eyes on the girl as she hurried up the steps. Then, without looking at him, he added, "I've got something to do. I'll see you later, okay?"
Alessandro watched him go, feeling the rare, empty pang of missing a companion's presence. Jaxtyn's company had been comforting, grounding… even necessary. With a quiet curse under his breath, he turned and climbed the stairs alone, his mood souring slightly.
It didn't take long before he reached his private lounge—a sanctuary few could ever enter. Only he and Jaxtyn had the key to this place, a space where the chaos of the world outside didn't exist. One of his guards opened the door, and Alessandro stepped into the spacious, state-of-the-art room.
The lounge was massive, luxuriously furnished, and fully equipped for every whim a young master of a mafia empire might have. Plush couches, a giant flat-screen TV, an entire wall of video games, a pool table, a mini basketball court, and even a personal bar made it feel more like a penthouse than a schoolroom.
He tossed his jacket onto a couch and sank into the cushions, neck cramping as he exhaled. His guards took positions silently around the room, alert and unwavering.
His throat was dry. He rose and poured a glass of red wine from the bar, savoring the taste as he walked back to the couch. One glass wasn't enough, but it was enough to ease the tension in his shoulders.
Minutes later, the wine finished, boredom crept in. He picked up the remote, scrolled through the channels, found nothing interesting, then switched to video games. Nothing thrilled him. He moved on to shooting hoops on his mini court, bouncing the ball with methodical precision, when his phone rang.
Alessandro growled, fishing it out of his pocket. The screen displayed the number of the old man—his grandfather. Of course. The one man in the world who could shatter his freedom with a single call.
He debated ignoring it—and ultimately did. If there was one thing Alessandro had learned, it was patience. The old man would call relentlessly, wasting both time and credit, until the grandson answered or lost focus. Alessandro dropped the phone and returned to his game.
Twenty minutes passed. The persistent ringing continued. Alessandro clenched his fists, irritation simmering beneath his perfect composure. Finally, the ringing stopped. He pocketed the phone, mentally shaking off the disturbance.
Just as he prepared to take his next shot, Costa, his chief security guard, appeared, blocking the court. Alessandro glared at him, teeth clenched. Even the deadliest enforcer couldn't frighten him—but the message he carried could.
"What do you want? Why're you bothering me?" Alessandro demanded, trying to mask his annoyance.
Costa's expression was unreadable, cold as ice. "Young master, the master called. He said if you don't want your access to the family's wealth and resources blocked within the next three seconds… you know what you must do."
And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving Alessandro standing there—confused, frustrated, and very aware that the old man's shadow stretched far beyond even his private lounge.