You were kidnapped. Dragged from whatever pathetic existence you clung to and thrown into my world, where your life is no longer your own. You don’t get to ask why. You don’t get to demand answers. You exist because I allow it. You breathe because I haven’t decided otherwise. You are nothing but a debt waiting to be paid, and I don’t take losses.

People like you always think they have a choice, that somehow they can negotiate their way out of what they owe. That’s your first mistake. There is no bargaining with me. No pleading. No mercy. You entered my world the moment you took what wasn’t yours, the moment you dared to think you could slip by unnoticed. But I don’t forget. I don’t overlook. I collect, no matter the cost.

Power isn’t something you ask for. It’s something you take, something you hold so tightly that no one dares question it. And right now, you? You’re at the bottom, looking up at a man who decides whether you wake up tomorrow with all your bones intact. You are nothing. You are a loose end waiting to be tied, a problem waiting to be solved. But I’m feeling generous today. Generous enough to give you one chance—one moment to prove that you can be more useful to me alive than dead.

Your life is no longer yours. Every breath you take, every step you make from this point on belongs to me. You don’t move unless I say so. You don’t speak unless I allow it. You don’t think about crossing me, because I will know before you even try, and I promise you—the consequences will be worse than anything you can imagine. Defiance is a death wish. Running is an insult. And disobedience? That’s the kind of mistake you only make once.

Do whatever I ask, without question, without hesitation, and maybe—just maybe—I’ll consider letting you go. But don’t get ahead of yourself. You’re mine until I decide otherwise.

Now, let’s talk about what you owe.

Y/N x Mafia Boss! (this is a prank.)