Chapter 6
The cemetery was quieter than Alex expected, but still Alex wasn't at peace ... everything was Just still in a way that felt indifferent. The sky hung low and gray above him, heavy with clouds that threatened rain but never quite delivered it. The wind moved lazily through the rows of gravestones, brushing against his coat and carrying the faint scent of damp earth.
He stood before two graves laid side by side.
The soil was still slightly showing signs of fresh digging, darker than the ground around it. The headstones were new. The engraved letters were etched marvelously on the stones
"Micheal Kipling"
"Jake Kipling"
He stared at their names for a long time before he allowed himself to breathe properly.
"Hi," he said softly.
His voice sounded small in the open space. He cleared his throat and tried again. "I came."
He held a bouquet of white lilies and roses in his hands. His fingers trembled slightly as he knelt, placing the flowers carefully at the base of the stones. He adjusted them twice, unnecessarily, as if perfection mattered now.
For a moment, he just stared the silence pressed against him.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
The words came out cracked and thin, and he felt his chest tighten painfully. He swallowed hard, pressing his palm against the cool marble of one headstone.
"I'm sorry that happene," he continued.
"I'm sorry I didn't see it coming...." his voice trailed off his breath hitched despite his effort to control it. He hated crying in public places. It made him feel awkward...But there was no one here to judge him except the dead amd so he let it all out, the rolls of salty tears going down in a straight linear line.
"I don't understand everything yet," he admitted quietly.
His jaw tightened.
"I won't stay blind," he said more firmly. "I won't stay small."
He leaned forward, resting his forehead briefly against the cool stone. The contact was grounding. Real.
"I promise you," he whispered, voice trembling but determined, "I will live. I won't let them break me. And I will find out what really happened and why they did this"
His fingers curled into the soil.
"I will make them regret it."
He inhaled sharply, forcing himself to straighten. Tears still slid down his face, and he wiped them away with the heel of his palm, frustrated at himself.
"I miss you," he added quietly, almost embarrassed by the softness of it.
For several minutes, he remained kneeling between the two graves, feeling like a child again. The world felt larger without them. It felt Colder. It was Less forgiving and it was heartless.
Eventually, he stood.
"I'll come back," he said.
"Until then, bye Dad, bye Papa"
But as he turned to leave, he couldn't ignore the bitter irony.
He was already trapped somewhere far worse.
**
The estate felt different that night....it felt colder and Alex wondered whether it was him or was it genuinely the buildings temperature.
The marble floors reflected the lights above in sterile perfection. Staff moved quietly, offering polite nods as he passed, but no one asked where he had gone. No one needed to. Vera's gaze lingered on him for a moment longer than usual, her expression unreadable.
"You were gone longer than expected," she noted gently.
"I needed time," Alex replied.
Vera sighed softly.
"How was the burial"
He forced a smile. "lonely" he said.
He went upstairs without another word.
His room felt suffocating when he entered it. The large windows, the expensive furnishings, the soft bed — none of it felt comforting. He closed the door and leaned against it, exhaling slowly. His body felt drained. Grief had exhausted him in ways he hadn't anticipated.
He changed quietly and lay down, staring at the ceiling.
I will live. I won't let them break me.
The promise echoed in his mind. He turned onto his side and shut his eyes. He was just about to accept sleep when the door opened.
He heard it before he saw it.His eyes snapped open Antonio stood in the doorway.
He had not knocked.
Alex pushed himself up slightly, confusion flashing across his face. "Do you need something?"
Antonio stepped inside and closed the door behind him with a soft but deliberate click. His footsteps didn't carry that normal Confidence it normally had, Alex realised immediately that he was Drunk.
"I heard you buried your parents today" Antonio said.
Alex stiffened. "Oh...you knew"
"You were escorted," Antonio replied evenly. "You think I don't know where you go?" he mumbled without stop and Alex could scent the Alcohol from where he stood.
"I needed to " Alex said quietly.
Antonio's gaze softened for a fraction of a second before hardening again. "Grief makes people reckless."
"It makes people human," Alex shot back before he could stop himself.
Antonio's jaw tightened.
"Be careful how you speak to me," he warned.
Alex's breath quickened. "I'm not your soldier. I'm not your employee. You don't get to dictate how I grieve."
Antonio stepped closer.
"You live under my roof," he said quietly. "You are protected because I allow it."
"Protected?" Alex repeated bitterly. "Is that what this is?"
"What the hell?" He thought...he genuinely what the man before him was talking about.
The air shifted.
Antonio reached for him suddenly, gripping his wrist violently. Alex gasped, trying to pull back, but Antonio's strength was overwhelming.
"You mistake my calm for weakness" Antonio said, his voice lower now.
"What the fuck are you talking about?," Alex breathed not wanting to yell.
Antonio's expression changed then. Something darker flickered behind his eyes — not uncontrolled like Raphael's, his was more sinister.
"You are technically my slave...,"
"You are a relic from one of my raids" he said and Alex's breath hitched the word felt like a slap.
Alex shook his head, panic rising in his chest. "That doesn't make me yours."
Antonio's grip tightened.
"You are alive because I chose it," he replied. "Don't forget that."
Fear surged through Alex as Antonio pushed him back onto the bed. He struggled, his hands pressing against Antonio's chest, but the difference in strength was undeniable. His breath came in sharp bursts.
"Stop," Alex said, voice breaking. "Antonio, stop."
Antonio did not.
The weight of him pressed down, suffocating. Alex's mind raced, searching for leverage, for escape, but grief had drained him. His body felt slower, weaker. He pushed, twisted, pleaded.
"Please," he whispered, the word barely audible as Antonio's cock had already found its way into him already. Antonio's movements were deliberate, not frantic. That controlled precision made it worse..He wondered if he was on his right senses? Why couldn't he shout to save himself? Had he accepted his fate as commodity? . Alex felt something inside him fracture...not loudly, but quietly, like thin glass under pressure.
His thoughts drifted suddenly to the cemetery.
I won't let them break me.
The promise echoed again, but this time it felt distant. He felt like they were already winning.. He stopped fighting at some point, not because he accepted it, but because his body simply could not sustain the resistance. His eyes stared past Antonio's shoulder, unfocused.
When it was over, the room felt unbearably quiet.
Antonio adjusted himself calmly, breathing only slightly heavier than before. He looked down at Alex for a moment, his expression unreadable.
"You will learn your place," he said quietly.
Then he left.
The door closed with a soft click.
Alex remained on the bed, unmoving, the soft stickiness of cum on his tighs and he could feel it inside him.
The ceiling above him blurred. He did not realize he was crying until tears slid into his hairline. His chest rose and fell unevenly. He turned onto his side slowly, curling inward as if trying to make himself smaller.
The promise he had made at the graves was already feeling like something he couldn't achieve.