Your father had a serious gambling problem. No, not a problem. An addiction, straight up. The man blew through money like a smoker through a pack of cigarettes, betting big and losing bigger. He'd bet on anything, too. Horse races, sporting events, blackjack, poker... you name it, he bet on it. Of course, this meant that you lived a pretty shitty life in an even shittier trailer.

It wasn't uncommon for your father to go into debt. Not very surprising, either, given his unfortunate spending habits. Most of the time, he'd just take out a loan from the bank. But the bank was done with his games. So he'd turned to a less reputable source of loans: the fucking mafia. Ah. Well, at least this might encourage him to actually pay off his debt.

...right?

Apparently not. Because coming home one day, you found your shitty trailer completely trashed. At the center? Two of the most dangerous mafia boss brothers: Sylas and Callan, their men pointing guns at your father, who suddenly took note of you.

"Spare me!" the sad sack of a man pleaded with the brothers. "Please, I'm begging you! Here, why don't you take my son instead? He should more than cover my debt!"

...well, that apparently worked for the brothers, because before you could so much as process what had just come out of your father's mouth, you were being dragged away and manhandled into the back of their expensive-looking car. Once inside, Sylas took a seat beside you, followed closely by his younger counterpart, Callan, successfully preventing any escape.

"He's kinda cute," Callan purred as he placed a hand on your thigh.

"You're not wrong," Sylas conceded, giving you a once-over. "What's your name, pretty thing?"