Her Father's Debt
1715 Words
Elara’s eyes widened in disbelief as the car swerved onto the main road. Her chest still rose and fell too quickly, but anger soon overtook the fear in her veins.
She turned sharply, her brows furrowed, her voice sharp and accusing.
“What are you doing here? Are you trying to mock me?” she asked, her hands tightening into fists on her lap as her glare burned into him.
But Damon didn’t even look at her as his expression was flat, cold, his gaze fixed on the windshield as if she wasn’t even worth the effort.
He leaned back in the seat, one hand in his pocket.”
“Shut up a little bit,” he said, his voice dripping with irritation. “If it wasn’t for my dad who told me to get you, do you think I would waste my time here?”
His jaw flexed as he finally shot her a sidelong glance, his words cutting like a blade.
For a moment, Elara just stared at him, her lips parting in stunned silence.
And then, against the storm of emotions tearing through her chest, a laugh slipped out. It was bitter, sharp, laced with disbelief.
“Really?” she asked, tilting her head as her eyes narrowed. “Your dad?” The words carried both mockery and pain, her voice trembling slightly despite her attempt at sounding strong.
The laugh died quickly, replaced by a sharp inhale as she folded her arms tightly across her chest, her nails digging into her own skin.
She looked away, staring out of the window as if the city lights rushing past could somehow anchor her.
Her throat burned, but she bit the inside of her cheek to keep the tears from spilling.
She would not give him that satisfaction.
Finally, after several minutes that dragged on like hours, the car came to a stop.
And Elara’s body jerked forward slightly with the sudden halt, her heart thudding as she glanced out the window as her breath caught in her throat.
The building before them loomed tall and dark, its edges sharp against the night sky.
It stood far away from the city lights, so distant that even the hum of traffic had disappeared, leaving only silence and shadows pressing in from every side.
The surrounding land stretched barren, save for the scattered trees whispering in the wind.
A shiver ran down Elara’s spine as this place wasn't’t just far from home—this was far from civilization.
The car door clicked, and Damon stepped out first, sliding both hands casually into the pockets of his suit trousers.
His posture was relaxed, but his every movement carried that same detached arrogance that his brother had that always made her want to claw at him.
She hesitated for a minute, but finally pushed the door open and climbed out, her sandals crunching against the gravel.
Her eyes darted nervously around the grounds before landing back on him.
“Where did you bring me to?” she asked, her brows furrowed, her voice sharp with unease. She took a small step toward him, folding her arms tightly across her chest. “What is this place? What are you trying to do to me?”
Damon didn’t even react as she questioned him he just shook his head once, almost lazily, and started toward the house.
“Follow me if you want,” he said, his tone low, dismissive. “Or stay out here and wait for the reporters to sniff you out again, your choice.”
Her lips parted, anger and fear tangling inside her, but no words came out fast enough.
He didn’t wait for her answer—as his long strides carried him swiftly toward the door, his shoulders squared against the night air.
Elara stood frozen for a moment, her heart racing, her gaze flicking to the darkness around her.
The thought of being stranded alone, chased down by flashing cameras and sharp questions, made her stomach twist.
“What can they even do to me in there?” she muttered under her breath, more to herself than anyone else.
And with a shaky inhale, she gathered her courage and hurried after him, her fists tightening at her sides as she climbed the steps
She had barely had time to step into the house before two men in black closed in on her.
Their grips were like iron, one clamping down on her arm while the other shoved her forward with a rough push that nearly made her stumble.
“Move,” one of them growled, his voice low and merciless.
Her breath hitched, fear tearing through her chest as she tried to twist out of their hold. “Let me go! I can walk myself!” she snapped, but her voice cracked, betraying her.
And neither of the men cared as they dragged her across the gravel and through the looming doorway.
The heavy door slamming shut behind them with a finality that sent a chill through her spine.
The air inside was suffocating.
And Elara froze as the dim light flickered across walls streaked with dried blood, stains smeared in ugly patches that no one had bothered to clean.
The coppery tang of it still lingered in the air, so thick she could taste it at the back of her throat.
Her sandals stuck slightly against the floor as if the blood had seeped into the cracks of the wood.
Her heart thundered so loud it drowned her thoughts.
“What… what is this place?” she whispered, but the words barely left her lips.
Before the he men shoved her forward again, forcing her down a narrow corridor until a sound cut through the silence—fists slamming into flesh, followed by a muffled groan.
Elara’s stomach turned as they pushed open a door.
And her knees nearly gave out at the sight before her.
Because there in the room was her father sat and tied to a chair, ropes cutting into his wrists.
Blood dripped from his split lip, his cheek swollen red and purple. A man in black stood over him, landing another blow that made her father’s head snap to the side.
“Dad!” she screamed, her voice breaking.
Her father’s eyes fluttered open, glassy but filled with that pride he always carried around. “Elara…” he rasped, before the man’s fist struck again.
And her entire body shook as she stumbled forward, but one of the guards shoved her back hard, forcing her to stand still.
That was when she noticed the other people in the room.
There was Darren cross who sat calmly at the far end, his expression carved from stone, eyes as sharp as a blade.
Beside him lounged Damien, relaxed, one hand in his pocket, a smirk tugging at his lips as if this brutality were nothing but a show for his amusement.
And Darin sat off to the side, his youthful face unreadable, though his sharp gaze studied every twitch of hers with unsettling curiosity.
Elara’s chest heaved as she turned toward them.
“What is going on here?” she demanded, her voice trembling but defiant.
Her father groaned, spitting blood onto the floor.
His eyes locked with hers, filled with guilt deeper than words. “Elara… I’m sorry actually I owe them. I owe them a lot and it's more than I can ever repay.”
And immediately Elara heard her father's words her mouth opened, but fury swallowed the fear that clawed at her insides.
“That’s a lie dad you would never borrow money from the Cross's!” she shot back, her voice shaking with arrogance she barely held together. “My father—”, she tried to say but was cut off.
“Enough,” Darren’s voice cracked like thunder.
His chair scraped as he stood, his towering frame moving with predatory calm.
“I am not in the mood for your childish denial.”
Before she could react, he strode toward her father and slammed a fist into his gut.
And her father coughed violently, blood spilling from his mouth as his body lurched forward, ropes straining.
“Stop it!” Elara cried, her voice breaking as she rushed forward—but one of the guards caught her, and dragged her back like she was nothing.
Tears blurred her sight as she clawed at the guard’s grip. “Please, don’t hurt him! I’ll do anything!” she half screamed.
And Darren just sneered as her father wheezed through blood-streaked lips,
“How much?” Elara shouted suddenly, her voice ragged.
Her fists clenched as she stared at Darren. “How much does my father owe you?”
Darren stepped back, wiping his knuckles against a cloth like he had all the time in the world his eyes cut into her, unflinching. “Hundred billion dollars.”
The room spun. Elara’s jaw dropped. “That’s—” her voice cracked, “that’s impossible. There’s no way I could ever—”
“Then it settles itself,” Darren said coldly, tossing the bloodied cloth aside. “Your father pays in flesh until the debt is cleared.”
Her father groaned again as the man in black delivered another brutal punch.
Elara screamed, shaking so violently she thought her knees would give way.
She broke free of the guard’s grip and fell to her knees, crawling forward with tears streaking her cheeks.
“Damien!” she cried out, her voice raw with desperation. “Please—please save him, please help my father!” she begged,
As Damien tilted his head, his smirk deepening.
He crouched slightly so his mocking gaze met hers, his eyes glinting with cruel amusement.
“I thought,” he drawled, his voice smooth as poison, “ I thought you said I was the last person you’d ever beg for help so why are you on your knees begging me now he said his face showing no emotions.
Elara’s lips trembled as her tears dripped onto the blood-stained floor. “Please…” she whispered, broken, “I’ll do anything.”
Damien’s chuckle that followed was low, dark, cruel as he whispered in Elara's ears"If you would do anything then follow me.
- Writer
