Landen's world was spinning, and he felt like he was being cooked from the inside. He was like a fish out of water in the hot desert sun, desperate for reprieve. Reina, in her line of work, had to accompany ugly, greasy men sweating and breathing gruffly on top of her, and most of them were rough.
Thus, when she saw this handsomely striking man who was in a desperate situation, she took the opportunity. She convinced herself that she was just doing a good deed. She helped him to a room, and that night she had an otherworldly experience.
He was gentle but passionate, and they did it three times before he passed out. As much as Reina was satisfied, she knew not to be selfish and desire more than she deserved, so she left before he got and left without a trace. It was like she was never there.
A month and a half later, she found out that she was expecting. Reina wasn't surprised at all. She hadn't used protection, nor did she take precautions after. She had the kind of attitude that if she got pregnant, then it was a gift to her from the universe. Having been sold off by her father when she was a child, she desired family. She desired to have someone in her life she could love and nurture.
Thus, when her son was born, she treated him like her little prince. She treated him like he was her precious treasure. She didn't even care to look for the father. Dagur was her son alone.
For years, Dagur lived a happy life in that crammed three-bedroom apartment they shared with three other women. He was a normal kid with a happy childhood, but one night everything changed. While they were sleeping, an intruder broke into their apartment. Their purpose was to kill Dagur. Landen had no idea that Dagur existed, but the people who drugged him knew. After gunning Landen down, they came for his son.
The apartment, which had been tranquil, instantly turned chaotic. Screams filled the air, and rapid footsteps followed. The gut-wrenching screams and loud crack sounds from gunfire made the young Dagur jolt in fright. Despite the silencer muffling the gunfire, it was still so loud in the small apartment.
His mother picked him up and shoved him into the closet behind her clothes. She whispered, "No matter what you hear, don't come out," before kissing his forehead and closing the door. Dagur cried silently, hugging his knees.
He thought any moment now, his mother would open the door and smile, saying everything was okay, but with each heartbreaking scream, the little hope he had was chipped away. The flash of gunfire could be seen through the gap between the closet doors.
Sounds of glass being shattered, furniture being broken, and chaotic footsteps filled Dagur's ears. His mother's voice cut through the chaos. She was cursing and screaming as she fought back against the intruder. An unfamiliar, harsh voice yelled, "Where is the boy?"
When he heard this was all because of him, Dagur couldn't stay here hiding and let his mother die. He had to be brave; he had to protect his mother. His small body quivered as he crawled out of the closet. He slipped underneath the bed, trying to reach the safe his mother kept a second gun. Reina had two firearms: one she kept in her purse and the other in a safe. In her line of work, she had to find ways to protect herself.
Dagur crawled closer to the safe, trying to make as little sound as possible. His heart beating in his ear, and his breathing shallow, he struggled with the lock. He was terrified, but his desperation kept him going.
When the safe opened, he took the gun out, the weight of it uncomfortable in his small hand. He crawled out and, with a burst of energy he didn't know where it came from, he opened the door and silently stepped into the dark corridor. When he reached the end of the hall, he saw a dark figure looming over his mother.
Without hesitation, Dagur raised the gun. His heart beating in his throat, he squeezed the trigger. The unsuspecting man was struck in his back, and before he could figure out what was going on, another shot followed, the bullet striking him in the abdomen.
Pained groans came from the intruder as he staggered back before returning fire. Dagur felt an excruciating burning pain in his shoulder as he staggered back.
When he looked down, he saw blood seeping through his pajama t-shirt. It was then he realized he had been shot. He was in pain, but he didn't have to think of it now. He was determined to kill the man who shattered his peaceful life.
The man, his head buzzing in pain, realized he had to abort the mission. Cursing, he stumbled off the wall he was leaning on and stumbled towards the window and climbed out. He climbed down the fire escape, but what he didn't expect was for more gunshots to follow him.
Fueled by adrenaline, Dagur was standing by the window, emptying the clip at the figure running down the stairs. Even as the gun clicked empty, he kept his finger squeezing hard on the trigger, his pain and rage overwhelming him.
It was only when he heard his mother's weak voice calling him that he stopped. Dagur ran towards her, tears streaming down his face. She lay in a pool of blood, her body growing cold. He tried to stop the bleeding, but the wounds were too severe. Her blood-stained hand reached up, pressing against his cheek. "My precious baby… mummy loves you."
Dagur sobbed as he said, "I will call the police, just don't sleep, okay?" He looked around for her phone, and when he spotted it under the couch, he stood up to get it, but she grabbed his hand and whispered while choking on her blood, "No... It 's-it's not safe."
Those were her last words. His mother, the most important person to him, was gone. The aunties who laughed happily while watching their favorite dating show every Monday night were lying cold in a pool of their own blood.
Dagur stayed, hugging her lifeless body. The six-year-old eventually fell asleep in her arms. When he woke, an old man was scrutinizing him. It was Mazen Caste, his grandfather.
Dagur didn't leave. He lay in his mother's lifeless arms. He was hoping he would bleed out and die, too. To him, there was no reason to live anymore. The six-year-old eventually fell asleep in her arms. When he opened his eyes, he was genuinely confused. He half sat up and groaned from the pain in his shoulder.
"Awake?" The voice startled Dagur, and when he looked over, he saw an old man who was scrutinizing him. It was Mazen Castel, his paternal grandfather.
"I am your grandfather," Mazen said coldly. "Come. It's time you met your father."
Mazen got up and turned to leave. Dagur was in so much pain, but he didn't dare to cry out as he was trying to climb off the bed. His feet touched the ground, and he stumbled and fell. His grandfather turned back. Seeing him on the floor, he hesitated before scooping him up. Dagur shivered in his grandfather's arms as they walked down the corridor.
When they entered a room at the end of the hallway, Dagur saw a man lying on a hospital bed in a coma. His body was covered in bandages with some blood seeping through them. The machines keeping him alive beeped and hummed. Landen had been declared brain-dead by the doctors. He was now just a shell, and the real person was gone.
"You are my future heir... If you are not ruthless enough, you will end up like him," he said, his voice devoid of emotion, like he wasn't talking about his son.
Dagur's heart sank. He had always imagined the day he would meet his father. Perhaps he would embrace him warmly. Perhaps he would express his regret for not finding him sooner. No matter what he had imagined, he had never imagined that it would be like this. He didn't think he would meet his father at death's door.
Mazen, with no emotion on his face, beckoned the doctor over and ordered him to pull the plug. Dagur's eyes were blurred with tears, the pain in his heart growing stronger. He wanted to beg his grandfather to stop, but Mazen's hand on his uninjured shoulder silenced him.
Dagur had already lost his mother. Now he was about to lose his father too and become an orphan. With a cold expression, Mazen said, "This is the only time you are allowed to cry."
From that moment on, Dagur's life changed forever. Gone was the mother who blew on his bruises after he fell at the playground. Gone was the mother who kissed him goodnight and tucked him in.
He went through rigorous training. He was broken down and molded to Mazen's liking. Mazen's methods were extreme. It was as though he was afraid Dagur would suffer the same fate as his father.
Despite his strictness with Dagur, Mazen was extremely protective of him until the day he died. The day he passed, Dagur was still a minor. He was only fifteen.
The hyenas who had been waiting for this exact moment came out of the shadows. Syndicate heads who had been suppressed by Mazen for years moved to expand their territories, believing that the new enforcer was weak.
War began, and the Castel family didn't back Dagur. In fact, they were waiting for him to fail so they could pick a patriarch of their choice. But soon realized that they had severely underestimated him.
Dagur didn't ask for a sit-down negotiation like his grandfather had in the past. He chose to weed them out. To hack them from the roots and make an example of them. For a month, the underworld bled red under his command. Anyone who dared oppose him died by his hand. He not only killed them, but he also erased legacies, and their networks were dismantled.
Their businesses were burnt to the ground. After what the underworld now calls the Blood Moon, the night when an entire third of the Syndicates were wiped out, the smoke finally cleared.
The so-called "weak heir" was now known as the Beast of Castel, a name spoken with not only reverence and terror.
Even with his power established, his grandmother and uncles never missed an opportunity to topple him. Just like now. They had set him up to be accused of murder. Their main purpose was not for him to go on trial and get sentenced. They wanted him to die in prison and have him replaced.
Dagur knew about their plans, but he let them think that everything was going as planned. He wanted them to think that they were about to succeed, then watch their despair as their plans crumble.
He let it play out, curious to see how far they would go. While he was gone, his grandmother and uncle Preston moved quickly, exploiting his absence.
They thought they were acting secretly, that their moves were hidden, but he knew their every move, no matter how careful they were.
That old woman was going to act while he was locked up in prison. She was trying to appoint her son Preston as the temporary head of the family. But she had grossly miscalculated. She not only underestimated his power and influence but also failed to realize that, without the family token, Preston's authority was hollow.
Thus, he decided to make his grand entrance at their ceremony. Dagur could already imagine the look on that old woman's face when she saw him enter through those doors. The very thought of that ugly, twisted expression on her face made his lips curl involuntarily.
Samphire's heart shook when she saw that smile. Not because it was an enchanting smile, but because she knew what that smile meant, no matter how charming it was.
Whenever he smiled like that, it meant someone was going to bleed. She pursed her lips while making a silent prayer for whoever was about to face this great devil.