His father was staring at him. Dominic knew it of course, even from all the way on the other end of the table. It had become a sort of game, how long he could ignore the oppressive weight of Salvatore's gaze, how long he could claim to be oblivious to it. The answer was not too long, the longest he had made it was ten minutes and he had gotten a strong punch to his jaw for his insolence.
The only sounds that could be heard was the clinking of silverware as they all sat around the round dining table. His family gathered around this table once a week to eat dinner. It wasn't a specific day of the week, his parents picked a day they wanted and everyone had to be there regardless of their other obligations. It was a rule that had existed there for as long as he could remember, a rule his mother had created in order to give them a sense of normalcy. So for one day in a week they could feel normal.
But unfortunately for them all, a meal together wouldn't fix the happy family portrait that had long bent askew because normal fathers didn't encourage their oldest to hit their second child to the point that they were broken and bleeding on the floor and normal husbands don't hurt their wives after almost every argument. Normal sons don't show up to dinner with unhealed wounds from the last time his father struck him. The happy portrait of them never existed, instead it showed his brother Lorenzo standing tall and formidable next to their father while Dominic stood on his own to the side where his father had discarded him, and finally his little sister, Isabella, would be standing a little behind their mother, trying to hide, trying to not take up space, trying to vanish altogether.
Dominic looked up from his food and caught Isabella's eyes. Her face twisted in a grimace.
Their father had asked him a question. Dominic wanted to ignore him purely out of spite. Surely his father knew that this form of intimidation and physical punishments barely worked as a tool for correction. It hadn't done much in years, not since Dominic turned sixteen.
" Are you deaf?" This came from Lorenzo at the other end of the table. Every noise in the room came to a unanimous halt. It was a result of the commanding presence Lorenzo possessed and used on a frequent basis. He was as intimidating as their father.
" Lorenzo, that's enough." Their mother's voice was strong even though her eyes were still downcast, avoiding staring at either of them. She had become very skilled at avoiding Dominic's gaze, especially when he sported a bruised face or a black eye because then she would have to guess whether it was her husband or eldest son that threw the punch.
" He is being disrespectful and you're coddling him." Lorenzo scoffed.
Their mother, Fernanda, was one of the only few people on earth who really cared about Dominic. Half the time she made that fact clear enough for everyone else to see by shielding him with a ferocity he could only dream of replicating, the other half, which was unfortunately most of the time, she was too weak to even defend herself.
Their father hadn't spoken another word yet but his eyes hadn't left Dominic. After a few more tense seconds, Dominic lifted his gaze and stared back at Salvatore. His father's eyes were the same shade of blue as Lorenzo's, a blue so dark it was almost black. Dominic hated those eyes, hated the evilness and cruelty that raged within them.
At the end of the day, Lorenzo was wrong. Dominic wasn't trying to be disrespectful, he just didn't fear them enough to want to bend over backwards to appease them.
The sound of Lorenzo pushing his chair back was jarring in the relatively quiet space. No one said a word as he stood up and left. Not even their father. It was easy to tell when Lorenzo was furious, to someone like Dominic who spent his entire life navigating through his brother's moods the signs were clear. Lorenzo's anger was violent and vicious as a raging storm, mindless in its path of destruction. Their father on the other hand was the complete opposite which made him much worse.
When Salvatore spoke his voice was akin to the sound of rolling thunder. " One of Lazzaro's bastards was spotted at your side of the city. Care to explain what he was doing there and how he snuck in without you knowing?"
On anyone else's lips the question would have been just that, a question. But coming from Salvatore the words were like multiple pointed knives tossed up in the air at the same time, one of which could descend and land in one's eyes while the others could easily embed themselves into one's neck. The chances of Dominic reaching out and plucking each one out of the air before they descended without hurting himself were slim.
" I will look into it." Was Dominic's only response.
" You better hope he isn't found dealing his father's crap in my city. Because if he is, then it would be very incompetent on your part." Salvatore's dark gaze was unwavering and Dominic was certain his father could see the way a muscle ticked in his jaw. " You have three days to either make sure he leaves the city or bring his lifeless corpse to me."
There was a threat buried beneath the orders, a silent 'or else' somewhere in there. And everyone on the table knew it too.