Author's Preface
Nina screamed, thrashing against their grip as two burly men dragged her toward a black van parked across the street. She kicked, twisted, did everything she could to shake them off, but it was like trying to break free from a steel trap.
Just moments ago, she had been running for her life.
The second she realized her so-called coworkers had thrown her under the bus—turning their backs as if she had never existed—she bolted. She had slipped out through the café’s back door, sprinting down alleyways, ducking behind dumpsters, weaving through the streets like a hunted animal. She had even managed to shake off the men tailing her by leading them down the wrong route.
By the time she made it home, she was breathless, her legs aching with exhaustion. But there was no relief.
Right there, parked in front of her building, was that van.
She stopped dead in her tracks, heart hammering.
They were waiting for her.
Two men sat in the front, their eyes scanning the street like hawks, and she had no doubt there were more inside.
Pressing herself into the shadows of a nearby corner, she cursed under her breath. Her purse—along with every cent she had—was still at the café. She had nowhere to go, no one to turn to. These men weren’t going to leave, and she had no way out.
Unless…
Maybe, just maybe, if she snuck back to the café, she could grab her purse and figure something out.
It was a long shot, but it was all she had.
Taking a deep breath, she moved through the backstreets, sticking to the shadows, taking sharp corners and narrow alleys instead of the open roads. The last thing she needed was to be spotted.
She was so focused on slipping away unnoticed that she almost didn’t hear the footsteps.
Slow. Steady. Gaining on her.
A cold shiver ran down her spine.
She glanced back.
A figure. A man.
He was following her.
Her pulse skyrocketed. She tried not to panic, but her legs instinctively moved faster.
Then, just ahead, two more men stepped into her path, walking briskly toward her.
Her stomach dropped.
She turned, ready to run the way she had come—only to see two more figures closing in.
She was trapped.
“What do you want?” Nina demanded, her voice sharp and defiant despite the fear clawing at her insides. “Seriously? You needed a whole squad just to take me down? Doesn’t that feel a little pathetic?”
They hesitated, just for a second.
She seized the moment.
“Look,” she said quickly, “I get it, okay? I screwed up. I spent the money, I didn’t pay your share. That’s on me. But do you really think dragging me off is going to magically make that money appear? Let me go, and I swear—I’ll work my ass off to pay back every single cent.”
Silence.
For a second, she thought she had gotten through to them.
Then one of the men scoffed. “We have one job. Bring Nina Smith back in one piece. That’s it.”
His partner nodded. “Save the sweet talk for the boss. Maybe he’ll care.”
She didn’t think. She just ran.
She twisted, tried to dart between them, but they were faster.
Hands grabbed her—one clamping onto her arm, another yanking at her waist.
“NO—let me go!” she shrieked, kicking wildly.
But their grip only tightened.
She fought, she struggled, but she was outnumbered. Outmatched.
And as they dragged her toward the van, panic surged through her like ice in her veins.
She had to get out of this.
She had to.
But she couldn’t.
She wasn’t even walking on her own anymore. Their grips were like iron shackles, dragging her forward whether she liked it or not. Fighting was pointless—just one of them was strong enough to pin her down, but five? Where would she even start? It wasn’t like she had some secret martial arts training hidden up her sleeve.
The moment they reached the van, they didn’t hesitate. She was thrown inside like a sack of garbage, hitting the floor hard before scrambling up just in time to see the men pile in after her.
The van lurched forward.
She barely had time to catch her breath before rough hands forced her wrists behind her back, tying them together. A strip of cloth was shoved into her mouth, muffling her protests. But even restrained, she didn’t stop struggling. Her body twisted, legs kicked, anything to make this harder for them.
Then she saw him.
Scarface.
He was sitting across from her, watching with a smirk like she was some kind of amusing little show. His face was rough, marked with years of fights, but the most striking thing was the deep, jagged scar running down his cheek.
“You see this?” He gestured lazily at the scar, his dark eyes locked on hers. “Wanna know how I got it? Bet you don’t. But I’ll tell you anyway.”
He chuckled at his own words, like this was all some casual conversation over drinks instead of a full-blown kidnapping.
“A crazy woman, just like you, did this to me.” His smirk faded slightly, replaced with something colder. “And if you piss me off any more than you already have, I might just return the favor. Try me and see what happens next.”
She swallowed hard.
This was the same man who had knocked her employer unconscious without a second thought. He wasn’t bluffing.
“I know your type,” he continued, his voice dripping with amusement. “Always acting tough, pretending you’re not scared of anything. Not even death.”
His eyes darkened.
“But I know what terrifies you the most.”
He leaned forward slightly, letting his words sink in.
“What worse fate could there be than a maimed appearance, right?” He let out a slow, sinister laugh. “Let’s see if you will still be able to keep up this attitude after that.”
Damn him.
Damn him for being right.
The fight in her drained instantly, her body going still against the cold metal floor of the van. Her breath came in shaky exhales, her pulse still hammering, but she stopped resisting.
Because now she knew—this wasn’t just about dragging her back.
This was about control. About making sure she understood exactly how powerless she was.
And for the first time since this nightmare began, real, bone-deep fear settled in.