Episode Two
736 Words
Seven Days
Amara stood frozen long after the front door slammed shut.
The silence that followed felt heavier than the storm raging outside.
Seven days.
Seven days before she was handed over to Lucien Moretti as if she were nothing more than a payment.
Her chest tightened with anger.
"No."
The word escaped her lips before she could stop it.
Her father sank into his chair and buried his face in his hands.
"No?" Amara laughed bitterly. "That's all you have to say?"
He didn't answer.
Something inside her snapped.
She stormed into the study and slammed both hands against the desk.
"What did you do?"
Her father's shoulders sagged.
"Amara—"
"No." Her voice shook. "You don't get to say my name like everything is normal. You don't get to sit there while that man walks into our home and decides my future."
"Please lower your voice."
"Why? Are you afraid he'll hear me?"
The look on her father's face told her everything.
He was afraid.
Terrified.
And that scared her more than Lucien's threat.
Because her father never feared anyone.
Not until tonight.
"What did you do?" she repeated.
He stared at the rain-streaked window.
"A few years ago, I entered a business agreement with the Moretti family."
Amara folded her arms.
"And?"
"I made a mistake."
"What kind of mistake?"
His silence stretched.
Then finally—
"I betrayed them."
The words hit like a punch.
"What?"
"I gave information to a rival organization."
Amara's eyes widened.
"You sold them out?"
"It wasn't supposed to happen the way it did."
"But it did."
He nodded.
"The rival family promised protection."
"And?"
"They lied."
A hollow laugh escaped her.
"So you betrayed dangerous people and trusted other dangerous people?"
"Amara—"
"No wonder Lucien wants revenge."
Her father flinched.
The movement didn't go unnoticed.
For the first time, she realized this wasn't just about pride or money.
Something much worse was happening.
"How much do you owe?"
"It isn't money anymore."
A chill crawled down her spine.
"What does that mean?"
Her father looked directly at her.
"It means they stopped caring about the money a long time ago."
The room fell silent.
Outside, thunder rolled across the sky.
Amara suddenly felt cold.
"What aren't you telling me?"
His jaw tightened.
"Someone else is involved."
Her stomach dropped.
"Who?"
"The Volkovs."
The name meant nothing to her.
But judging by her father's expression, it should have.
"They're worse than the Morettis."
"Worse?"
"Far worse."
He stood and walked toward the bar cabinet.
His hands shook as he poured himself a drink.
"The Morettis have rules."
"And the Volkovs don't?"
He swallowed the whiskey.
"The Volkovs enjoy suffering."
The words settled heavily between them.
Amara's pulse quickened.
"What do they want?"
"You."
Her breath caught.
The glass slipped from her father's fingers and shattered against the floor.
Neither of them moved.
Neither of them looked away.
Amara felt as though the ground beneath her had vanished.
"Me?"
"They discovered my betrayal months ago."
"Why would they care about me?"
"They believe you're leverage."
The room spun.
This couldn't be real.
This couldn't be her life.
Yesterday she had been worrying about work, friends, and weekend plans.
Today she was apparently being hunted by criminal organizations.
A sharp knock suddenly echoed through the mansion.
Both of them froze.
Another knock followed.
Three slow taps.
Deliberate.
Threatening.
The color drained from her father's face.
"No."
The whisper barely left his lips.
Amara's heartbeat accelerated.
"Who is it?"
He didn't answer.
The knocking came again.
This time louder.
More demanding.
Then the security alarm on the wall flashed red.
A warning signal.
Someone had breached the front gate.
Amara stared at it.
"What is happening?"
Her father's breathing became uneven.
"They found us."
The fear in his voice made her blood run cold.
Another alarm sounded upstairs.
Then another.
And another.
Every security system in the house suddenly erupted.
The mansion descended into chaos.
Before Amara could react, headlights flooded through the front windows.
Multiple vehicles.
Black SUVs.
Her father stumbled backward.
"Oh God."
A deep voice suddenly crackled through the intercom system.
"Open the door."
The command echoed throughout the house.
Amara's entire body stiffened.
She recognized that voice.
Lucien Moretti.
The intercom crackled again.
This time his tone was colder.
More urgent.
"Open the door now if you want to survive the next ten minutes."
- Writer
