His Mafia Possession

ime for Dad to do whatever it took to pay Zamian back and come for me. I had to believe that. The room they gave me was bigger than my entire house. Velvet drapes. Gilded mirr

." He studied me for a long beat. "You're not here as collateral. You're not here to wait. You're here because you're mine now." The words hung heavy in the room. "I'm not property," I snapped. "No," he said quietly, "but you were offered like one. And I accepted. You belong to me because your father gave you to me. And I don't plan on giving you back." I felt the blood drain from my face. "That wasn't the deal." Zamian leaned in. "There was no deal, Avery. There was only an exchange. And you've already crossed the threshold." My breath came in short, sharp bursts. I wanted to slap him. Scream. Break something. Instead, I asked, "Then why keep up the show? Why feed me? Dress me? Why pretend this isn't a prison?" He smiled. "Because I don't want to break you. I want you to understand where you belong. I want you to choose to stay." I laughed, bitter. "That will never happen." "We'll see." He turned toward the door. "Come. There's someone I want you to meet." I didn't move. "Why?" "Because you're going to be around for a long time. And it's time you learned the rules." Something in the way he said that made me realize... he wasn't going to wait for my dad. He had already decided. I followed him, barefoot and hesitant, down the hallway. We took turns through corridors I hadn't seen before-ones that were darker, colder, until we came to a wide room with a long glass table and men already seated around it. Big men. Dangerous men. Eyes like knives. Ink creeping up their necks. They all looked at me like they'd smelled something foreign. Or delicious. Zamian placed a firm hand at the small of my back. "Gentlem