The Mafia's little pet

Mila.

"What the hell are you saying?" I screamed, shoving at him with all my strength. Tears burned my eyes, but I fought them back. No way this was real.

He just laughed, holding tighter. "You heard me. Do you think I had a choice? Money over you, kid. He saw your picture, said you were perfect. Deal's done."

"I hate you! I hate you so much! God, it's my birthday-I'm 18 now! I can leave this shithole forever!" I yelled, glaring daggers. "Why do you hate me? I'm your daughter, you bastard! Fuck you!"

He shrugged, like it was nothing. "You should be happy, actually. You don't even know who he is yet-trust me, it's a step up. And yeah, I'm all about the club now, the cash it brings. Didn't get to have my fun with you like I did with your mom. Time's up for that." He spat the words as I broke free, bolting for the stairs.

Each vile word made me run faster. I slammed into my room, heart pounding. Grabbed my backpack, stuffed it with clothes, the little cash I had, Mom's letter-everything important. Locked the door with the key, then stormed back down, past him. He didn't move, didn't stop me. Just watched with that smug look.

I should've known. He was smarter than I thought. At 18, I was "legal" for whatever sick plan he had. He knew I'd try to run, but he didn't care. Everything was falling into place for him.

Never in a million years did I think he'd sell me off for money. He didn't even need it! But no, he did this on purpose. Whatever twisted thoughts were in his head, I didn't care. He was a monster, deserved to rot in jail.

And this "birthday gift"? Yeah, real thoughtful.

I snatched my phone, dialing a taxi as I hit the front yard. But there it was-a sleek black car blocking the gate. Weird. Before I could react, rough hands grabbed me from behind. "Let go! Help!" I screamed, kicking and twisting.

Two big guys in suits dragged me toward the car. "Shut it, girl," one growled. "Boss's orders."

"No! Get off me!" I fought harder, nails scratching, but they were too strong. One splashed something cold and wet on my face-chloroform, maybe? The world spun, blurred. I blacked out, everything going dark as they shoved me inside.

Before those guys in black suits could knock me out completely, I had just enough time and fire in me to curse them out, scream at the top of my lungs, and throw some wild punches their way.

But let's be real—they weren't getting a single scratch from me. I twisted and turned like a wildcat, swinging my fists as hard as I could, but it was all for nothing. They were built like tanks, and I was just a scared girl fighting for her life.

"If you don't let me go right now, you idiots are gonna regret this big time," I snarled at them, my voice shaking with rage. They didn't even flinch.

Instead, they shoved me hard into the back seat of that black car, sandwiching me between two massive muscleheads who looked like they could crush me without breaking a sweat. One of them reached over to lock the door on my side, making sure I couldn't bolt.

My threats? Total waste of breath. They just burst out laughing, like I was some kind of joke. "Whoa, princess, chill out," one of them said, keeping his cool with a straight face.

"You're not going anywhere acting like this. Just relax, okay?" I lunged at him, aiming a punch right at his smug face, but he grabbed my wrist like it was nothing and held me back.

I wasn't giving up that easy. I twisted my head toward the street, spotting a few cars driving by in the distance. "Help! Somebody help me!" I yelled as loud as I could, hoping—praying—that someone would hear and pull over. But nope.

Either no one heard, or they saw what was happening and decided to mind their own business. The world felt so cold in that moment, like I was invisible.

"Let me go! Now!" I screamed again, my voice cracking. I figured if I kept yelling, maybe I'd annoy them enough to slip up.

And yeah, it kinda worked—one of the four guys in the car groaned, rubbing his temples. "Can we just drug her or something already?" he snapped at the others, his tone all sour and fed up. "This girl's giving me a pounding headache."

They treated me like I was less than dirt, like my whole fight didn't matter one bit. "No way," another guy shot back, sounding all bossy and in charge. "The boss wants her awake and breathing when we get there. No shortcuts."

"Who the hell is this 'boss' guy anyway?" I demanded, my heart racing.

"I don't know him! Please, just let me go. I'll do anything—pay you back, whatever it takes. I beg you, make this stop. My life's already hell with my dad beating me every day, yelling at me, treating me like trash. That's enough torture. Come on, don't you guys have daughters? Sisters? Have a heart!" I poured it all out, trying to hit them right in the feels, make them see me as a person, not just cargo.

I stared into their eyes, searching for even a flicker of sympathy, but their faces were stone-cold. No dice. My emotional plea bounced right off them.

"You'll meet the boss soon enough, little princess," one chuckled, brushing off my words like they were nothing.

What a bunch of heartless jerks! It was like I hadn't said a word. They acted deaf, ignoring every desperate plea. "I'm not your damn princess, for crying out loud!" I shouted back, my anger boiling over hotter than before.

"Shut your yelling right now," one of them warned, his voice low and threatening. "You're property of the most powerful man on the planet. Be grateful for that."

That hit me like a truck. I froze for a second, my brain short-circuiting. The most powerful man? What the actual hell? The shock clamped my mouth shut, leaving me staring at them in stunned silence.

But it didn't last. The tears came flooding out then, hot and unstoppable. I sobbed over and over, choking on my own spit, my whole body shaking. I couldn't hold it in anymore—the fear, the betrayal, it all crashed down.

One of them scowled, his patience snapping. "Please, for the love of God, stop those tears," he barked. "You're being a real pain in the ass."

"Please... just let me go," I sobbed, wiping my face with shaky hands. "It's my birthday today. I'm 18 now—finally free to live my own life. I don't want to be a slave. I just want out."

One of the guys—the one who looked a little softer than the rest—glanced at me with what seemed like pity. He even cracked a small, warm smile as he studied my face. "Easy there. It'll all be over in a few minutes. You'll be home soon enough," he said gently.

I could tell he felt bad for me, like he wanted to help end this nightmare but was stuck following orders. He had kind eyes, not like the other robots who showed zero emotion. It gave me a tiny spark of hope, but I wasn't done fighting. I started begging louder, more frantic, repeating myself like a broken record "Let me go, let me go, let me gooooo!" My voice echoed in the car, desperate and raw.

That's when they lost it. One of them grabbed a small bottle and sprayed that cold, chemical liquid right in my face. It burned my eyes and nose, making my head spin instantly. The world blurred, edges going fuzzy, and my limbs felt heavy, like lead. I slumped back, fighting to stay awake, but it was no use.

"What the hell are you doing to her?" the second guy yelled, his voice full of panic. "The boss is gonna kill you for this!"

"I... I couldn't take her crying anymore, man," the guy who'd sprayed me stammered, looking horrified at what he'd done. "Did you hear her? She's been through hell—abused by her own dad. Look at her arms, covered in bruises. Probably beat her bad, maybe worse. The boss will get why I did it. Kid's been through enough."

Yeah, right. I was pretty sure the boss would have his head on a platter. But before I could think another thing, everything faded to black. I slipped into unconsciousness, floating away to some dark, empty place far from the terror.

When I finally came to, the first thing I noticed was the cool air on my skin. I was totally naked—no clothes, nothing. My eyes fluttered open, and I blinked hard, trying to make sense of where I was.

A huge king-sized bed with silky sheets surrounded me, the kind you'd see in a fancy hotel. And on the wall across from it? A massive oil painting of... me? It was so detailed, like someone had captured every curve of my face, every strand of my hair. What the...?

For a split second, I thought I was dreaming. I pinched my arm, wincing at the sharp pain. Nope, this was real. I sat up slowly, my head still throbbing from whatever they'd drugged me with, and looked around the room.

It was straight out of a magazine—plush carpets, gold-trimmed furniture, floor-to-ceiling windows with heavy curtains. It felt like I'd woken up in a palace, not some creepy prison. But the memories hit me like a wave: the car, the men, my dad's betrayal. This wasn't a dream; it was a living nightmare.

I glanced down at myself, touching my bare skin in disbelief. Why was I naked? And that painting—why would anyone have a giant portrait of me hanging there like I was some kind of trophy? My mind raced, questions piling up until my head felt like it might explode. Panic bubbled up again, tight in my chest. What was going on here? Until I...