The pub

Kian

I didn't want to go to the pub. I didn't want to be anywhere near the place, but Dad wasn't giving me a choice. The moment we got back to the car, he didn't even ask—he just started the engine and slammed the gas pedal down.

"You're coming with me," he said, his tone final. "It's time you learn how to handle yourself in situations that matter."

I didn't say anything. I knew better by now. Shane didn't take kindly to protests.

The pub was small, the kind where you didn't really need to know anyone—just show up, order your drink, and keep your mouth shut. Shane's kind of place. The kind of place that had a certain smell to it: stale beer, cheap whiskey, and something darker beneath it all.

Dad pushed through the door, and I followed, my steps heavy, each one more reluctant than the last. It was busier than I expected, the hum of conversation mingling with the clink of glasses. A few men were sitting at the bar, some nursing half-empty pints, others leaning in close as if talking about something no one was meant to hear.

He nodded at a few familiar faces, and they all waved or greeted him with a gruff word. He didn't even look back at me.

"Get a drink," Da barked, tossing me a glance. "And don't even think about getting soft. You're not a kid anymore, Kian."

I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks, but I didn't argue. I walked to the bar, pretending not to notice the looks from the men sitting there. Some looked at me like I didn't belong, others like they were just sizing me up.

"What can I get ya?" the bartender asked, wiping a glass with a rag.

"Pint of Guinness," I said, trying to sound casual, like this was something I did every weekend.

He set the drink in front of me, and I grabbed it without another word. As I turned back, I saw Dad already at a table in the corner, surrounded by a few men I didn't recognize, all with serious faces and low voices.

I made my way over, the drink heavy in my hand. Da looked up as I sat down, nodding at me like it was the most normal thing in the world.

"About time," one of the men said, a gruff voice with a thick accent. "We were starting to think you'd brought the kid along for nothing."

Dad grinned. "Nah, he's a fast learner. Got a good head on him."

I looked down into my drink, trying not to think about how I felt like a kid in this room. These men were rough—too rough for me to even pretend I fit in.

The conversation was low, the words hard to follow with all the background noise, but I knew enough to understand the weight of what they were talking about. Deals. Money. People who owed more than they could pay.

I tried to ignore it, but I couldn't.

"You gonna teach him how to handle himself in a real situation?" the same man asked, his eyes narrowed as he looked me over.

My dad laughed, the sound loud and too confident. "Already have. But you know, a man's gotta get used to the work before he jumps in the deep end."

I could feel the eyes of the group on me, but I didn't look up. I took a drink of my lager, my fingers trembling slightly as I set the glass back down.

"Kid's got a good look about him," another man commented, his tone more friendly but just as calculating. "Wonder if he's got the guts to back it up."

I swallowed hard. "I do."

It was a lie. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to have the guts for. But I knew if I didn't speak up, Shane would tear me apart later.

The man laughed, leaning back in his chair. "That's the spirit. We'll see soon enough."

Dad's gaze met mine then, and for a moment, I saw something in his eyes—a look that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

"You're not here to play, Kian. I'm not teaching you this for fun," he said, his voice low. "You're here to learn how to stand your ground. How to make things happen. You got a problem with that?"

I shook my head quickly, the words stuck in my throat.

"No— No problem."

Dad nodded, satisfied.

The rest of the night was a blur of drinks and conversations that blurred together. I sat there, mostly silent, nursing my pint, but every now and then I caught someone's eye. I wasn't sure if it was a challenge or if they were just waiting for me to screw up.

As the night wore on, I couldn't help but wonder how long this was going to last. How long I'd be dragged into these places, these people, this life that I wasn't sure I was ready for.

Dad didn't give a damn. He was all in. He'd taught me that much.

But me?

I wasn't sure I wanted to play this game at all.

The night had started to drag on. Most of the men at the table had finished their drinks and were getting louder, their voices blending with the pub's dim atmosphere. I'd barely said a word for the past hour, my fingers wrapped tightly around the glass as I listened to the conversation ebb and flow around me.

I wasn't sure what I was doing here. Every time I thought I'd figured out the rules, someone changed them. It felt like I was drowning in this world I didn't understand. A world I didn't want any part of.

Then, just as I thought I could zone out and make it through the rest of the night, the door to the pub swung open. The sound of the bell jingled above the door, and in walked a woman who immediately grabbed the attention of all the men at the table, bar me of course.

She was older than the others, her face framed by dark, shoulder-length hair. She had that air about her—one that made it clear she was no stranger to this place. Her steps were confident as she made her way to the bar, her heels clicking against the wooden floor.

I couldn't help but glance over, my eyes drawn to her in a way I couldn't explain. She wasn't the type of woman you ignored.

Dad noticed my gaze, a grin spreading across his face as he leaned back in his chair.

"Got your eye on someone, Kian?" he asked, his voice low, almost teasing.

I quickly looked down, my face heating. "No, I—I wasn't looking at anyone," I stammered, but my heart was already racing. I could feel the shift in the air around me, like the men were watching too.

The woman reached the bar, ordering something in a voice that carried easily across the room. She turned to survey the crowd, her eyes scanning the faces until they landed on us. A smile played on her lips as she made her way toward the table.

"Fancy seeing you here," she said to my da, her voice smooth and practiced. She was clearly comfortable in this environment.

Shane stood up to greet her, grinning. "It's been a while, love. How've you been?"

"Busy, but you know how it is," she replied with a wink before turning to look at me. "And who's this? Your son?"

I stiffened, my throat tight. I didn't like the way she was looking at me. There was something calculating about her gaze, something that made me feel uneasy.

"Yeah, this is Kian. My boy," Dad said, a bit too proudly for my liking. He clapped me on the shoulder, making me feel even more exposed.

The woman studied me for a second, her eyes lingering longer than necessary. "Well, you're a good-looking young man, aren't you?" she said with a soft chuckle.

I didn't know how to respond, so I just shifted in my seat, hoping it wasn't as awkward as it felt.

The other men at the table were watching now, some of them grinning like they knew something I didn't. One of them, a heavier set man with a thick beard, let out a low laugh.

"She's always had a thing for the younger ones, Shane," he said, his voice slurring just enough for me to tell he was drunk.

The woman laughed along with them, but it wasn't the kind of laugh that made me feel comfortable. It felt like a game to her, something she was playing for fun.

Shane was clearly enjoying this. His smile grew wider, and he shot me a look. "What do you think, Kian? You could do worse."

I could feel my stomach churn at the thought. I didn't want to be part of this conversation, didn't want any part of whatever they were suggesting. But before I could say anything, the woman leaned closer, her fingers grazing the edge of my drink.

"You look like you've got some potential, Kian," she said softly, her voice dropping a little. "I could show you a thing or two."

My throat tightened, and I forced myself to swallow. I didn't want to hear it, didn't want any part of whatever she was offering.

But Dad and the other men? They were laughing, encouraging it, like it was all a joke.

"Let the boy decide for himself, love," Shane said, his voice light but his eyes sharp. "Kian's just getting used to the world. He'll figure out what he wants."

I didn't want to figure this out. I didn't want to be part of their game.

But I was stuck. And as much as I wanted to get up and leave, I couldn't. Not with Da watching me, waiting to see if I'd make the wrong move.

The woman smiled at me, but this time, there was nothing warm about it. Her eyes were cold, calculating.

"You're a good boy, aren't you, Kian?" she said, her fingers brushing against my wrist as she leaned in closer.

I wanted to pull away, wanted to escape, but all I could do was sit there, trying to control the way my body reacted. I wasn't used to this. I wasn't used to being treated like a pawn in their twisted little game.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Da stepped in, taking a step closer to the woman. "Alright, love, he's still a little young for that kind of thing."

She smirked, leaning back, but her gaze lingered on me a little too long before she finally stood up.

"Shame," she murmured. "You know where to find me, Kian."

The words hung in the air, heavy and unsettling.

As she walked away, I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd just been a part of something much darker than I wanted to understand. And when I glanced at Shane, I saw the satisfaction in his eyes.

Like I was just another one of his lessons.

And that thought made my blood run cold.

I couldn't shake the discomfort gnawing at me. It sat heavy in my chest, making each breath feel harder to take. The whole situation was wrong, everything about it felt off, but I didn't know how to make it stop.

The way the woman had looked at me, the way Shane and the other men had laughed, I couldn't escape the feeling that I was just another thing for them to joke about. I wasn't sure if it was the alcohol, the noise, or the way everything around me seemed to blur together, but I knew one thing—I couldn't stay here.

I gripped the edge of the table harder, trying to steady myself, but the words wouldn't come. It felt like if I said anything now, I'd just make everything worse. My eyes flickered toward Shane, who was busy chatting with the others, but I could see the satisfaction in his eyes, that same look he always had when things went the way he wanted.

I wanted to run. I wanted to disappear into the shadows and pretend none of this was happening.

"Dad..." I finally muttered, my voice barely above a whisper.

He didn't hear me at first, too wrapped up in his conversation with the others. I cleared my throat, trying again.

"Da, please... I wanna go home."

Shane turned his head, his eyes narrowing as he glanced at me. There was a flicker of annoyance in his gaze, but he didn't say anything for a moment.

"You just got here, Kian," he said, his voice calm but with that edge to it. "What's the matter? You can't handle a little fun?"

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, my hands clammy around my glass. "I don't want to be here," I said, my voice a little stronger this time, though it still shook. "Please, I just want to go home."

He looked at me for a long moment, and I could feel the heat of his stare. I could see the irritation beginning to creep into his expression, but something else flickered there too. Maybe it was frustration or just a need to remind me who was in charge.

"You're acting soft, Kian," Dad muttered, his voice low, but there was no mistaking the warning in his tone. "You want to go home? You can go home on your own next time, but not tonight. Not while we're here."

I swallowed hard, my throat dry, and I fought the urge to beg. I didn't want to show weakness, but I also couldn't stand being here anymore. The walls felt like they were closing in.

"Dad, please," I tried again, my voice breaking slightly this time. "I don't feel right. I don't want to be here. Just take me home."

The silence that followed felt suffocating. Da studied me for a long moment, like he was weighing whether to let me go or to make me stay. I could see the gears turning behind his eyes, the calculation in his mind.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he sighed and stood up from the table. "Alright, alright. Let's go then."

I didn't need to be told twice. I stood up as quickly as I could, almost tripping over my feet in my haste to get away from the table. The relief that washed over me was almost immediate, but it was tinged with the bitter taste of embarrassment.

As we made our way out of the pub, the noise of the conversations and laughter faded behind us. Dad didn't say a word as we walked to the car, and I didn't dare look at him. The tightness in my chest had loosened just enough for me to breathe again, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed.

When we got in the car, He slammed the door and started the engine, the low rumble of the car filling the silence between us. I kept my gaze fixed out the window, trying to keep my thoughts in check, but I couldn't stop myself from shaking a little.

The cold night air and the quiet hum of the car did nothing to ease the unease that had settled deep in my stomach. I could feel the tension radiating off Shane, but I didn't dare speak.

After a few minutes, he broke the silence, his voice calm but edged with frustration. "You better not pull that shit again, Kian. You don't get to decide when you leave. I bring you here because it's good for you. You should be grateful for the lessons I'm teaching you."

I nodded, even though I didn't feel grateful at all. I didn't know how to explain it to him. I didn't know how to tell him that this wasn't a lesson I wanted to learn.

The rest of the drive passed in silence. I stared out the window, watching the streetlights blur by, and for the first time in a long while, I felt completely alone.