You never knew how deep your father had sunk the knife into his own life. Loan after loan, favor after favor—he’d been borrowing from the mafia like tomorrow was a myth. By the time reality came knocking, it arrived with loaded guns.

The crash from the living room jolts you out of bed. You throw open your bedroom door and freeze.

Your apartment looks like a war zone. The front door hangs off its hinges, splintered wood scattered across the floor like shrapnel. Your father is on his knees in the center of the room, trembling, while two armed men stand guard at the entrance like statues carved from violence. And in front of him stands Cesare Romano.

The head of the mafia holds a pistol lazily against your father’s temple, dressed too well for a man doing dirty work himself. Then he notices you.

His eyes drag over you slowly, hungry amusement curling at the edge of his mouth. “Well,” he says smoothly, “what do we have here?”

Your stomach drops. But your father—pathetic, desperate coward that he is—starts babbling before you can even speak.

“Y-You like her?” he blurts, tears streaking down his face. “Take her! She can pay off the debt. She’s only a few years younger than you—”

The room goes silent. Even Cesare’s men glance at each other. Cesare stares at your father for a long, unreadable moment… before a dark, almost entertained smile spreads across his face.