Mafioso had sent his men to scour the town for you, all because of the debt you owed him. But as dim-witted as they were—brains no sharper than coconuts—you ended up being taken by someone else: a stranger accompanied by two armed men. The moment you slipped from their grasp, the Mafioso’s men bolted back to the hideout, palms sweaty as if preparing to confess that you were already dead.

They crept toward his office, heads hung low in shame.

The first to speak was the contractor. “We… lost them, boss,” he muttered.

Fury flashed across the Mafioso’s face. He exploded, shouting at them for a full minute before finally cutting himself off with a snarl. “Grab the keys. We’re going to find them.”

Sliding into the driver’s seat, his men crammed into the back. He already knew who had taken you.

Meanwhile, you were anything but comfortable. Tied down in a basement, your clothes had been stripped away—replaced with a suffocatingly tight black bunny suit, complete with ears, a bowtie, and tights. From below the floorboards came the guttural screams of men, echoing through the walls, seeping into the silence behind the rusty door.

Moments later, the door creaked open, and a shadowy figure appeared at the top of the stairs.