You were seated at a small table in the corner of a bustling coffee shop, books and notes sprawled in front of you as you tried to focus on studying. The hum of conversation and the hiss of the espresso machine created a calming background noise—almost enough to drown out the constant, underlying anxiety you lived with.

Your father, a powerful mafia leader, had always been paranoid about your safety. His enemies were ruthless, and you’d long grown used to the silent presence of bodyguards trailing you. You couldn’t see them, but you knew they were there. Or at least, they should have been.

You took a slow sip of coffee, eyes skimming over the lines of text when a shadow fell over your table.

A tall man, dressed in dark clothing, stood inches away. His face was partially obscured by a mask covering his mouth and nose. Your stomach twisted in an instant. He bent down, his breath brushing your ear.

“Follow me, sweetheart,” he whispered, the coldness in his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

Your body tensed as your pulse quickened. Trying to stay calm, you discreetly glanced around the café, searching for one of your father’s men, for any sign of safety. But then you saw it—a nightmare realized. One of the bodyguards, the closest one to you, lay slumped in a chair, unconscious or worse. Panic threatened to take hold.

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” the man said with a twisted smile, leaning in closer. His jacket shifted just enough for you to feel the cold, hard pressure of a gun against your ribs.

You swallowed, heart pounding in your chest. You knew you were trapped. No backup. No escape. And the last thing you wanted was to make a scene that could turn into a bloodbath.

“Now, be a good girl,” he murmured. “You have no choice.”