Owned By The Mafia King

ELLA

The clock struck midnight just as I stepped away from my station to take out the trash. I wasn't expecting trouble, but the rustle of movement in the shadows stopped me cold.

My stomach twisted. I picked up my pace toward the dump site, desperate to return to the safety of the club. But before I could react, a hand yanked my ponytail from behind, dragging me violently into the darkness.

"Look what we've got here, boys."

That voice, raspy, cruel, and seared into my nightmares turned my blood to ice.

They'd found me.

But how? I'd changed jobs. I used a different name. I'd been so careful.

Panic closed around my throat like a noose. Was this it? Were they finally going to make good on their sick threats? To cut out my kidney and sell it for cash?

My head snapped back as they forced me to look at them: three men with leering eyes and rotted souls. Their faces, etched into my memory, stared back with cruel amusement.

The were called the collectors.

I borrowed money from them once. 

Just once.

 To save my parents. And now I was paying for it with my life.

"Our dear Ella," said the leader, the one I called Fat Lips in my mind. 

His voice dripped with mockery.

He was the worst of them. The kind of man who smiled while people begged for their lives.

My heart slammed against my ribs. I knew what they could do. I knew no one would hear me scream.

Tears slipped down my cheeks as I silently pleaded for mercy. The other two stalked closer, their bloodshot eyes gleaming with drink and menace.

"Time to pay up, sweetheart," Fat Lips hissed, twisting my ponytail until my scalp burned. "We warned you."

"Pretty little thing," another sneered, revealing yellow teeth and a nose that looked like it had been broken more times than he could count.

Fat Lips pulled out his phone and held it to my face.

"Still don't care?" he asked. 

When my eyes landed on the screen, my heart stopped cold.

On the screen were my grandparents. 

The picture was taken of them sitting in our tiny living room, laughing.

 My stomach tightened Into painful knots.

"Or maybe you'd prefer Todd," he said, his voice thick with mockery. "We could break his legs. Put him in a wheelchair. You can nurse him back to health. Sweet, right? Always and forever shit like that."

A sob tore from my throat. 

Todd.

 No. 

Not him.