Soft For The Predators

Chapter One: The Debt Ohh goodness! I've never imagined myself to be in a situation like this. But here I am, in the hospital room and everywhere smelled like antiseptic and dying dreams. My father lay in the bed like a broken thing, his once-strong frame now skeletal beneath white sheets, his breathing shallow and labored. The heart attack had come three weeks ago at work, sudden and devastating, and the medical bills had started stacking up immediately—thousands of dollars we didn’t have, couldn’t even conceive of having. My mother sat in the uncomfortable chair beside him, her hand clasped in his, dark circles under her eyes that matched my own. My little brother, Silas —just fifteen-year-old. Sat in the corner trying to look like this wasn’t destroying him. I stood at the window, watching the city below, trying not to think about my shifts at The Crimson Pearl, trying not to calculate how many double shifts it would take to cover even one week of hospital costs. “Amanda.” My father’s voice was barely a whisper. “Come here.” I turned. My father’s eyes were locked on me with an intensity that made my stomach tighten. There was something in his expression—fear and shame and desperation all tangled together into something that looked almost like grief. “I need to tell you something,” he said. “Something I should have told you years ago, but I was too proud. Too stupid.” My mother’s grip on his hand tightened. “Don’t,” she said. “Don’t do this now.” “If I don’t do it now, I might not get another chance,” he said. His breathing came harder, and a nurse rushed in to adjust something on his machines. When she left, he continued. “Amanda, sit down.” I sat on the edge of the bed, my heart already pounding like it knew what was coming before my mind caught up. “Three years ago,” my father began, “I made some very bad decisions. I borrowed money from people I shouldn’t have borrowed from. Not banks, Amanda. Not legitimate lenders.” He paused, and I watched him gather the strength to continue. “I borrowed from the paranormal underworld.” The room seemed to tilt. “What?” “I needed capital for a business venture,” he said. “Something I thought would make us wealthy. Make you wealthy. So you wouldn’t have to work as a waitress your entire life, so you could build the empire you’ve always dreamed of.” His eyes were filled with tears. “I was so certain it would work. I promised I’d pay them back within two years. They gave me five hundred thousand dollars.” My mouth went dry. “You what?” “The business failed,” he continued, his voice cracking. “Within six months, it was gone. And I couldn’t pay them back. I tried, Amanda. God, I tried. I took out smaller loans from legitimate sources, sold what I could, but I could never catch up with the interest. The debt kept growing. It’s now over two million dollars.” “Two million?” The number didn’t feel real. Nothing felt real. “They’ve given me until the end of the month,” he said. “They said if I don’t pay, there will be consequences. For all of us. For your mother. For Silas. For you.” I couldn’t breathe. “What kind of consequences?” My father closed his eyes, and a tear rolled down his temple. “The kind where families disappear. The kind where daughters become property.” The words hung in the air like poison. “There’s one man,” my father said quietly. “One of the crime boss’s associates. He collects beautiful women, keeps them as… as wives. He saw you at a business function last year. He’s interested in you. If I agree to give him you as a wife, the debt will be forgiven. Completely. Our family will be safe.” “No,” I said immediately. “Absolutely not.” “Amanda, please listen—” “No,” I said again, standing up so fast the chair scraped against the floor. “No, I’m not doing this. I’m not becoming some paranormal crime boss’s wife because you made stupid decisions. Figure out another way.” “There is no other way,” my father said, and his voice sounded broken. “I’m dying, sweetheart. The doctors don’t think I’ll make it past next month. The cancer is spreading faster than they expected. I’m going to die knowing I’ve left my family in debt to people who will destroy them if we can’t pay.” The words landed like blows. “You’re dying?” I whispered. “The heart attack was just the beginning,” he said. “They found the cancer during the workup. It’s stage four. It’s in my lungs, my liver, everywhere. There’s nothing they can do. But if you agree to this, if you marry him, at least your mother and Silas will be safe. At least they’ll have a chance.” I looked at my mother. She was crying silently, her hand still gripping my father’s like she could keep him tethered to this world through sheer force of will. “I need to think,” I said. “I can’t… I need to get out of here.” I left the hospital in a daze, my body moving on autopilot while my mind fractured into a thousand pieces. My father was dying. My family was in debt to paranormal criminals. And I was being asked to become someone’s property to save them. There was only one person I could think of who might understand. Only one person I’d thought I could trust completely. Kingsley. I’d been with him for six months, quietly, away from the eyes of the restaurant and the paranormal world. He was my lover, the man I imagined marrying someday, the person who made me feel like my plus-size body was something sacred instead of something to apologize for. His house was dark when I arrived, which was unusual. Kingsley didn’t usually hide from the world. I used the key he’d given me and stepped inside. The sounds hit first—raw, wet, urgent moans. Then her voice, breathless and begging “Harder, Kingsley. f**k me harder.” My best friend. I moved like I was underwater, heart slamming, praying I was wrong. The bedroom door stood half-open. Light spilled into the hall. I saw everything. Kingsley’s massive body pinned her face-down on the bed, hips slamming into her from behind in hard, relentless thrusts. Skin slapped skin. Her slim back arched, fingers clawing the sheets as he drove deep, the wet sound of him f*****g her filling the room. I froze in the doorway. Silent. Watching. “Gosh, you’re perfect,” he growled, gripping her narrow waist and pounding harder. “So tight. So f*****g small. This is what I need.” She pushed back onto his c**k, moaning. “You’re really done with her?” “Done?” He laughed, thrusting deeper. “Amanda is oversized. Too much hip, too much stomach, too much everything. I can’t settle for someone that big. Look at you—you fit. She never did.” “She thought you loved her body,” she panted. “I told her what she wanted to hear.” His rhythm turned punishing. “She’s too soft. Too heavy. I need someone I can actually f**k without feeling like I’m carrying extra weight. You’re it. She’s leftover.” They kept going—hard, loud, lost in each other—while I stood there, invisible, every word cutting deeper. When I finally turned away, tears were flowing effortlessly down my chin.