Signed To His Terms

es exuding danger. Before I could process what was happening, they grabbed my father, Javier, who was sitting in his worn armchair, clutching an old book. "Let me go!" he shouted, struggling again

his side. The sight of him, battered and helpless, hardened my resolve. I climbed into the car, the leather seats cold and unfamiliar under my trembling hands. One of the men slid in beside me, his imposing presence taking up far more space than his physical form should. Another man took the front passenger seat, and the driver, silent and efficient, started the engine. The hum of the vehicle sent a shiver down my spine. As the car pulled away from the curb, I stared out the tinted window, watching my home fade into the distance. It felt as though I were being ripped from everything familiar and thrown into the unknown-a world where people like Theo Rodriguez reigned supreme. The man beside me spoke, his voice low and menacing. "You're either brave or stupid, girl. Most people would've kept their mouths shut." I didn't reply. My throat felt too tight, and my hands clenched into fists on my lap to keep them from shaking. Every instinct screamed at me to run, but there was no escaping now. I had willingly stepped into the devil's lair, and I would have to face whatever awaited me. The drive felt endless, each second stretching into eternity. The silence in the car was oppressive, broken only by the steady rumble of the engine. My mind raced, conjuring images of what Theo Rodriguez might be like. Ruthless, the men had said. A thief's punishment was certain. Would he even give me the chance to plead for my father's life? Eventually, the car slowed, pulling into the circular driveway of a sprawling mansion. The sight took my breath away-not because of its beauty, but because of its sheer, imposing grandeur. Tall iron gates had swung open to let us through, and the house loomed ahead, a fortress of glass and stone bathed in eerie golden light. The car came to a stop, and the man beside me gestured for me to get out. My legs felt like jelly as I stepped onto the pristine gravel. The mansion's doors opened, and a wave of warm light spilled out, casting long shadows across the drive. "Move," one of the men growled, pushing me toward the entrance. The grand doors creaked open as I was shoved inside, and I stumbled slightly, catching myself before falling. The interior was as intimidating as the exterior-marble floors gleamed under a crystal chandelier, and every inch of the space radiated power and wealth. My heart raced as I followed the men d