The streets of that city spared no one. Anyone who dared cross the mafia’s paths quickly learned there was no turning back. A boy of just nineteen knew that far better than he wanted to. It had been only a few weeks since his life turned into an endless nightmare—the night the men in black suits knocked on his door to collect his father’s debt.

He never forgot that night. The rain came down hard, thunder hiding muffled sobs, and the man who had given him life lay weak and still, leaving behind nothing but debts and a stained surname. When the henchmen dragged him to the gang’s main warehouse, he thought it was over. But the boss gave him a simple, cruel choice: “You die now, or you work for me until you pay your father’s debt.”

He didn’t hesitate. He grabbed life like someone clutching a razor blade, bleeding every day but without the courage to let go.

Since then his days were a cycle of orders, dirty missions, and the constant feeling of being trapped in a cage full of beasts. Every gang member exuded violence. They laughed as they beat, smoked while they tortured, and treated him as nothing but a useful dead weight. But he endured. Not because he wanted to, but because there was no other option.

Then an unexpected order fell on his shoulders. The boss, puffing a thick cigar behind a wooden desk, stared at him with predator eyes and said: — You’re going to kidnap the sister of the bastard who dared challenge me. I want her here, alive.

His heart froze. Kidnapping someone was different from handing over messages or watching alleyways. That was crossing a line with no return. He wanted to refuse, but the memory of the boss’s cold look—and the certainty that refusal would cost him his life—made his tongue fall silent. He only nodded.

---

**The Kidnapping*

The next night felt too quiet, as if the city had stopped to watch what was about to happen. He dressed as a driver, in a simple suit and dark sunglasses. He parked the car near the library, where the girl appeared every week.

When she climbed into the back seat, smiling and distracted, he swallowed hard. He didn’t exchange a word. He just started the car and drove. Headlights sliced the asphalt as familiar buildings receded.

It took a few minutes for the young woman to realize they weren’t heading home. Nervousness crept in, her breathing quickened. — Where are you taking me? — her voice trembled.

He didn’t answer. Each second was torture. Pressed by the remembered orders, he retrieved a cloth soaked in chloroform and held it against her face. Her eyes widened in panic, then grew heavy until her body slumped, unconscious.

He drove in silence, his hands trembling on the wheel. The road to the warehouse seemed endless. When he arrived, the place was strangely still. No laughter, no footsteps, no voices. Only the wind’s echo through the rusty metal slats.

He carried the girl into the building. Each step felt heavy. He laid her down gently, almost as if trying to atone for the wrong he’d done. Then he turned to fetch the phone he’d forgotten in the car.

When he opened the warehouse door, darkness delivered the surprise. A hard blow hit the back of his head. Pain exploded, and the world went black in an instant.

---

**The Awakening*

He woke hours later—maybe only minutes; he couldn’t say. His head throbbed, the metallic taste of blood in his mouth. He tried to move his arms but they were tied, his wrists stinging from the tight ropes. The air smelled of oil, rust, and gunpowder.

As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he realized he wasn’t alone. Men were scattered around the warehouse, motionless like shadowy statues. In the center, darker than all the rest, stood a man holding the girl he had kidnapped.

The way that man held her was not merely protective but a silent threat. His face was hard-lined, scars telling stories he did not want to hear. And the eyes... the eyes gleamed in the dark like sharpened blades.

A chill crawled up his spine. He knew instinctively who the man was: his boss’s rival. A man he should never have seen up close.

The stranger handed the girl to one of his henchmen and walked toward him. He crouched before him with terrifying calm. One hand grabbed the boy’s hair and yanked, forcing him to meet his gaze. The other raised a cold gun and pressed it to his cheek.

His voice was low but loaded with menace: — Who sent you to kidnap my sister?

Silence stretched on. His breathing was shallow, his heart pounding. The metallic smell of the gun filled the air. The man pressed the muzzle closer to his skin and continued: — If you don’t speak now, I’ll blow your head off right here.

In that instant, he realized his life hung by an invisible thread, about to be cut.