REESE

chapter forty two.

Warning: This Chapter Contains Content Under the Umbrella Theme of Violence, Torture, Injury, and Death- It is Intended For Mature Readers

Reese POV:
Undisclosed Location, France

When I was five my mom told me a story.

She spoke of a game and a King who played. The King viewed his life as a game board, a chess match that if analyzed enough- could be manipulated at will. He believed that if one knew how to play the game of life, then their destiny would become one of greatness and glory. A destiny so striking, it would be written into the stars, sent to be shot off into existence while the rest of the world watched light years behind.

The King played the game of life well. He challenged circumstances, exercised grace, lethality and caution, and was a cunning player fit to compete. The King thought he knew the game as well as one could, but never realized until it was too late that the game had a mind of its own, a player of its own. For years, the King believed the game was a zero-player game, meaning that its evolution would be determined by its initial state, requiring no further input. He believed that the game's progress was solely dependent on him and his next move but he was wrong.

One didn't just simply play the game, the game played them.

Sickness struck him hard, fast. And suddenly everything he worked for, competed for, would no longer concern him. Soon he would be gone and the game would seek out its next player.

The story confused me. I asked my mom, then what was the point? Why play? If the game was one of no winners, then why indulge the game?

She smiled, then she quoted the King as he stood in front of his empire during his final days. With his wife, four sons, and infant daughter standing at his side, he swept his gaze over his Kingdom, his people, and smiled victoriously.

"Do not mourn me." He commanded, challenge burning in his eyes. "Mourn the enemies that question my legacy when I am gone."

That was why he indulged the game. Because the people that played, the ones on this earth that cared about innovation, achievement, greatness, distinction and legacy, they would be remembered. To him, legacy was more than just being remembered beyond a grave, it was bigger than any self-serving purpose. Legacy to the King was making sure that his kin, his blood would become something. His kids would become someone.

Becoming someone wasn't easy. Everyone wanted a fair chance, and everyone wanted to play. The game of life was more deadly than anyone could ever imagine but Alessandro Di Genova, the King, did everything in his power to give his kids a fighting chance when they competed. His wife and successor did the same.

But the game fought back against the Di Genova children. It fought back against my family and it played a brutal, unforgiving, cruel and deadly match.

Now I was dying.

I wondered if my dad was proud of how I played.

_

The pain was everywhere.

Agonizing, searing, excruciating pain. The core of it ripped at my stomach, the white-hot flames of the bullet flooding every inch of my defenseless body. I couldn't move, I couldn't talk, I couldn't think but the one thing I could do was feel. The intensity of that feeling jarred me awake.

Death would have been a mercy.

Drawing in a shallow, laboured breath, I choked on something metallic. The thickness of it stopped me from breathing. It felt like water was filling my lungs. Like I was drowning. Panic flooded through me but it came wrapped in a haze. Nothing seemed real. The time, my thoughts, what was happening to me, I understood it all and understood nothing at the same time.