Chapter 4

The room went so dead quiet that one could hear a pin drop.

The kidnappers had chosen me by name. This was no longer a choice. It was an order.

If I refused to go, these desperate women would definitely just tie me up and deliver me to them just to save their husbands. Even the cops, wanting to ensure the hostages' safety, might turn a blind eye to the plan.

I had become the only solution.

Sandra looked at me with guilt in her eyes. But even more so, there was sheer relief. She was relieved that the unlucky person chosen was me instead of her.

"Drew, this…"

She didn't finish the sentence, but I understood.

The seven women dropped to their knees in a row, wailing at the top of their lungs as their emotional blackmail escalated into claims of a "life-saving debt".

"Drew, if you bring Vince back alive, you'll be our family's hero! Please, I'm begging you! I'll give you five percent of Vince's company's shares!"

I hurled the mug I was holding onto the floor, shattering it into pieces. The sharp crash instantly silenced all the crying in the room.

"Shut up!" I roared.

My eyes burned red. I felt like a lone wolf cornered with nowhere left to run.

"I'll go! But I'm not doing it to save those pieces of trash, nor is it because of all you fake-ass women! I'm doing it because of the money!"

I stared right into Sandra's eyes as I stalked closer to her.

"I want 750,000 dollars in cash transferred to my account right now. That's my hazard pay! If I don't make it back, that money goes to my mother. If I come back alive, it's still mine! One penny less, and you can all prepare to collect their dead bodies!"

I was putting all the pressure on them. If I didn't play greedy right now, it would just look suspicious.

Sandra didn't even hesitate and made the transfer on the spot.

A ding sounded—indicating that the money had arrived—echoing especially loudly in the dead-silent room.

I had the lawyer standing nearby draft an agreement immediately. I forced all the wives to sign and stamp their thumbprints on it, and even recorded everything on video as proof.

This money had to be squeaky clean.

After everything was finished, I took a deep breath.

"I need to use the bathroom."

Once I was inside the bathroom, I locked the door behind me. I quickly pulled the insole out of my shoe and stashed a piece of paper covered with underground street slang inside. Then I grabbed a boning knife from the kitchen, wrapped it tightly with cloth, and tucked it into the small of my back.

When I came back out, the detective was standing at the entrance. He gave me a long, heavy look, but he didn't stop me. Instead, he handed me a tiny button.

"This is a tracker. The newest model. Come back alive, and we'll call it a formal contribution to the case."

I nodded without saying anything.

I picked up the remains of my somewhat-stale sandwich and finished every last morsel. That could very well be my last meal.

I threw on my faded old windbreaker and picked up the heavy black bag filled with ransom money. Most of it was real cash, but the bottom was stuffed with newspaper.

There was no other choice. Time was running out, and they couldn't get enough cash in time.

I opened the door. It was raining outside, and the night was pitch-black. The rain poured down like it was trying to wash away the filth of this world.

An unmarked black van waited at the intersection like a phantom. The side door slid open, looking like the mouth of a monster waiting to swallow someone whole.

I looked back one last time at my brightly lit apartment. That was the world of the living. And where I was headed was hell.

I turned around and got into the van. With a loud bang, the door slammed shut.

Inside sat three masked men holding guns, and the thick stench of tobacco and stale sweat hit me right in the face.

Before I could even settle into my seat, a cold gun barrel was jammed straight into my mouth. The mix of grease and a metallic taste shot straight to my skull.

One of the masked men sneered and patted me on the cheek.

"Mr. Ferrer, I heard you're pretty smart. Let's hope your life is tougher than your mouth."

The engine roared as the van shot into the rain, speeding straight toward the lawless borderlands.

In that exact moment, I knew I was no longer just a bystander. I was officially in the game now.