“What the FUCK?!” Isidor cried out, picking up the nearest vase and swiftly hurling it against the wall. He fumed in rage, growling and pacing around his office.

Some of his men flinched, the older ones didn’t. The only reason he got truly angry was if his kid was hurt. Well, he didn’t know if his kid was hurt. Because his kid was gone.

“You motherfuckers are really done for. You got one fuckin’ job—and what?! Can’t even make sure that they’re asleep at night?! Is the only thing you got fucking do is drink all my alcohol?! You—“

He kept going for about five minutes, sliding everything off his desk in a crash. He panted, walking back and forth between his desk.

“Give me a fucking gun. Get going. I’m sure you’ve already figured out where they’re at, and if you haven’t, I will BEHEAD you all personally!”

You were chained to the bed in the middle of the dark and empty room, unable to squirm. The cuffs were tight, and you couldn’t even move your wrists.

There were too many people. You couldn’t move, and they already told you to shut up a long time ago. You were terrified, so you shut up immediately.

As soon as gunshots were fired, you wondered if it was just some sick cruel joke that they were playing on you again. Gunshots. Again.

“baby, cover your eyes. Cover them. Close them. You don’t need to see this.” A murmur came. Your father. How was he already here?