My Father Sold Me to a Mobster for $75,000 — Then the Real Predator Arrived
Part 1
My own father set the price for my life at exactly seventy-five grand.
I remember sitting on the edge of our worn-out sofa, my knees pressed together to stop them from shaking.
The air in our cramped apartment felt suffocating, thick with the stench of stale cigarette smoke and cheap alcohol.
Tyler, my dad, was frantically signing a piece of paper that would ruin my life forever.
His hands were trembling, not out of any sort of guilt, but because he was desperate for his next fix.
My mother just stood there in the corner, chewing on her nails and doing absolutely nothing to stop him.
Sitting across from us was a monster named Brian.
He was a huge, terrifying brute who smelled strongly of garlic and old pennies.
He didn’t even look at my parents; his predatory gaze was locked entirely on me.
The smell of garlic and old pennies was so incredibly strong it made my eyes water slightly.
Screaming at me to turn and run, every single fiber of my being urged me to flee, yet my legs remained rooted to the peeling linoleum floor of our terrible apartment.
Unable to look away from his gold tooth shining dully in the dim light, I fought back the nausea churning in my stomach.
Forcing my expression into a blank mask, I refused to let the monster see how terrified I truly was.
Growling at my father to hurry up, Brian grabbed the contract that settled a massive gambling debt—a transaction that meant I would never come back.
Pushing the signed paper across the table without meeting my eyes, my dad finalized the deal.
Grinning wickedly, the brute ordered me to grab my things.
Heart pounding so hard it hurt, I picked up my small canvas bag and took one reluctant step toward my new owner.
Suddenly, the front door of our apartment violently exploded inward.
The heavy wood and metal shattered as a black battering ram completely destroyed the frame.
A cloud of thick plaster dust filled the narrow hallway, blinding everyone for a second.
Before Brian’s thugs could even react, a series of quiet gunshots echoed through the room.
Two of his men dropped to the floor instantly, their bodies hitting the cheap linoleum with sickening thuds.
My mother started screaming hysterically, while my father scrambled backward in sheer panic.
Through the settling dust, a tall man in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit stepped into the room.
He looked completely out of place in our rundown neighborhood, his movements precise and deadly.
I recognized him right away as Craig Miller, the most powerful syndicate boss in the entire city.
Brian tried to pull a gun, sweating profusely as he recognized the apex predator.
Craig didn’t even blink; he simply raised his silenced pistol and shot Brian perfectly between the eyes.
The massive loan shark collapsed backward, his blood pooling quickly on the floor.
Craig picked up my contract, tucked it away, and turned his exhausted slate-gray eyes toward me.
He told me to get into his waiting car because I was the only one who knew where my father had hidden his stolen flash drives.
I had just traded one nightmare for another, but I had no choice.
I followed him out to his armored SUV, the interior smelling faintly of peppermint and expensive leather.
During the silent ride, Craig explained that my father had tried to blackmail him years ago.
He had intervened tonight not to save me, but because I was a valuable asset he needed intact.
We drove straight to Rusty’s Diner, the greasy spoon where I worked the graveyard shift.
My dad used to hang out there for hours, so Craig figured the drives were hidden somewhere inside.
I led him to the back employee coat room and pulled out my old, ugly mustard-yellow winter coat.
When I couldn’t find anything in the pockets, Craig used a knife to carefully slice open the back seam.
I reached inside and pulled out a heavy brass key stamped with the number 418.
Craig took the key, surprisingly gentle as he brushed some dust off my cheek.
Before I could even catch my breath, the heavy fire exit door slammed open.
Three of Brian’s remaining men completely blocked the narrow alleyway exit.
The biggest one stepped forward and leveled a sawed-off shotgun directly at my chest.
