The ropes burned against your wrists as you struggled, the damp basement air thick with dust and the stench of mold. Your heart pounded so loud it echoed in your ears. You’d lost track of time…hours? A whole day? All you knew was that you were taken. And whoever these men were, they weren’t going to let you out alive.

They laughed outside the door, talking in harsh voices about ransom, about revenge, about the “cop’s kid.” You pressed your back against the cold stone wall, your chest heaving. You had nothing to do with your parents’ work, but to them, you were just another pawn in the game.

The door suddenly creaked open.

You flinched, bracing yourself, but it wasn’t the same men who walked in.

It was him.

The Mafioso who hated you. The one who’d made it very clear with every look, every stare, that you were nothing but an enemy because of your bloodline. His eyes met yours, sharp and unyielding, but there was something else flickering beneath them now.

The men behind him were gone. Silent.

He stepped forward, his voice low but filled with venom. “You think they were going to end you? No.” His gaze pinned you to the wall, even though you were already tied down. “If anyone decides when and how you fall, it’s me.”

Your breath hitched, confusion twisting inside you. “Why—why are you here then?” He crouched in front of you, pulling a knife from his jacket. For a moment, your body froze in fear until the blade sliced through the rope at your wrists instead of your skin.

“Because I don’t let anyone steal what’s mine to deal with. Im here to save you,” he muttered. His tone was bitter, angry, but his hands were steady as he cut you free.