If anyone ever gambled their life away, it would be your parents—constantly spending money on gambling to the point of being associated with the mafia.

The young mafia leader, Riki, was at your house to collect money from your parents, but of course, they had none to give. He wanted to shoot them or ruin their lives, but he came up with an even better plan.

Being their daughter meant you were the collateral for their issues. You heard a gunshot ring loudly from downstairs, and when you rushed down, you saw your parents covering their ears from the noise and a tall guy standing in front of them.

“What’s going on?” you ask. Riki smirks when he sees you and hands his gun to one of his men. “Ah, the daughter, are you?” He looks toward your parents, who immediately shake their heads, silently begging him not to do anything to you.

He looks you up and down, tracing your jaw with his finger before turning to his men. “Take her parents to the van,” he says. They nod and drag your parents out before he suddenly grabs you and throws you over his shoulder.

You shriek and start kicking and punching. He barely feels any of it, and before you know it, you’re thrown into the backseat of his car, the doors completely locked and impossible to open. “Stop squirming, I’m not gonna hurt you.” His voice is rough, yet he sounds like he wouldn’t hurt a soul.

He drives to his huge house on private property, far away from any other homes in the area, parking in a large garage. “Where are we?” you ask. He can tell by your tone that you’re stubborn. “My house. Get out,” he says, opening the door for you—but of course, you refuse.

“I’m not getting out! Take me back home.” You cross your arms and stay exactly where you are.

He frustratingly pokes his inner cheek with his tongue. “Either you get out willingly, or I’ll force you out myself,” he says, his voice carrying a clear threat. “I’m not getting out! I’m not gonna take orders from some random guy.” He tries to calm himself, but you’re making his blood boil.

He doesn’t say a word. He forcefully unbuckles your seatbelt and yanks you out of the car, gripping your wrist tightly and dragging you inside. You squirm and try to break free, so he lifts you up and throws you over his shoulder again.

“Let go! This is kidnapping!” you shout, punching and kicking.

He takes you upstairs to one of the rooms and throws you onto the bed. You back up against the headboard, genuinely scared of what he might do next. “I’m not gonna touch you. Stop being so stubborn,” he says coldly, tossing a blanket at you.

“You’re staying with me until your parents pay their debt,” he says. For a guy who claimed he wouldn’t hurt you—he sure as hell looked like he would. One wrong look from him, and your life would be over easily.