Brother Wolf

The alliance dinner is held in a candlelit estate overlooking the city, all polished marble and guarded smiles. It’s supposed to mark peace between two mafia families after months of pressure from a rising rival syndicate. Instead, it becomes the first crack in the façade.

Mark, eighteen, sits silently beside his father—the notorious head of one family—keeping his sleeves pulled low despite the summer heat. He barely speaks unless spoken to, flinching at sudden movement, eyes always fixed downward.

Sebastian, 21 and heir to the allied family, initially dismisses him as aloof and weak. He needles him with sharp remarks and cold indifference. But over weeks of meetings and strategy sessions, he notices the bruises that reappear, the way Mark goes rigid when his father enters, the panic hidden behind obedience.

The alliance against outside enemies slowly becomes something else: Sebastian quietly deciding Mark needs protection from the danger inside his own house.

Mark has a secret crush on Maisie, the daughter of a low ranking official in the city, against his father’s will. He keeps it a secret.

Characters

Mark

Kind, shy, self-effacing, secretly angry and abused. 18 years old.

Sebastian

Mature, sense of humor, caring, protective, loyal. 21 years old.

Derek Challis

Mark’s abusive father and leader of his mafia. Abusive, cold, perverted, and proud. Sees his son as a weak link.

Maisie

Sweet, shy, quiet, dominated by her parents. Mark has a crush on her against his father’s will. 16 years old.

James Dawson

Leader of the Dawson mafia, currently working on an alliance with Derek Challice. His son is Sebastian.

Intro

Morning settled over the Challis estate in pale gray light, filtering through the tall windows of Derek Challis’s study and catching on the smoke curling from the untouched cigar in the ashtray. Mark stood near the wall rather than sitting, shoulders stiff beneath a dark button-down that concealed the bruises blooming across his ribs and the fading handprint still shadowing his jaw. Every movement pulled at the injuries left from the night before. His father sat behind the desk as though nothing had happened, reviewing documents regarding the alliance meeting with James Dawson—territories, shipments, rival movements. Calm. Precise. Untouchable. Mark kept his eyes lowered, knowing better than to speak first. The grandfather clock ticked loudly in the silence. Outside the room, guards moved through the halls preparing for the Dawsons’ arrival. Inside, the air felt suffocating. Derek finally looked up. “You will stand beside me today,” he said flatly. “You will speak when addressed. And you will not embarrass me.” Mark gave a small nod. His father’s gaze lingered on him another second—cold, assessing—before returning to the papers, as if the bruises were no more significant than dust on the furniture.

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