Chapter 4

SARAH

“You’re insane! You have no idea what you’re talking about!” I screamed, my voice barely audible over the throbbing music in the lounge. The air felt heavy with smoke and sweat, and my heart pounded in my chest.

Marco’s smug expression didn’t waver. “You’ll see, Sarah. You’ll come around.”

I couldn’t stand to be in the same room as him for another second. I spun around and pushed through the crowd. As I reached the door, Marcel stepped in front of me, concern written all over his face. “Hey, you alright?”

I shook my head, not trusting myself to speak without breaking down. “I need to go,” I muttered, trying to sidestep him.

“Sarah, what happened?” Marcel persisted, his brow furrowed.

“I just… I need to leave,” I repeated, brushing past him. My steps quickened as I made my way through the club, the pulsating music and flashing lights becoming too much to bear. I felt like I was suffocating.

I grabbed my phone and sent a quick text to Nicole: “Had to leave. Don’t worry about me. Will explain later.” My hands were trembling so much that I had to type slowly to avoid mistakes.

Men catcalled and shouted vulgar things at me as I pushed through the crowd. “Hey gorgeous, where you going?” “Come back, sweetheart!” I ignored them all, my only focus was on getting out of this nightmare.

Finally, I burst through the club’s front door and gasped for the fresh night air. I kept walking, nearly running, until I reached home. The familiar sight of our little house brought a brief sense of relief. I knocked, and a moment later, Dad opened the door.

“How was the party?” he began, but stopped short when he saw my face. “Sarah, what happened?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, a fresh wave of tears spilled over, and I leaned into my father’s embrace, the events of the night finally catching up to me.

“It’s the same men from the bakery,” I blurted out, my voice shaky. “They threatened us, said they’d kill us.”

Dad’s face paled, but he tried to keep his voice calm. “Sarah, come inside. Let’s talk about this.”

We moved to the living room, and I sat on the couch, trying to steady my breathing. Dad sat beside me, his hand on my shoulder. “Tell me everything.”

“They said you owe them money. A lot of money. They want me in exchange for writing off the debt. I have three days to decide,” I said, my voice trembling with fear and anger.

He looked shocked. "Calm down, Sarah. It's probably nothing—"

"No, Dad, it’s not nothing!" I interrupted, my voice rising. "He said you took a loan from his family and haven't been able to pay it back. He wants to claim me in exchange for writing off the debt, Dad! We have three days to decide, or it might get bloody."

Dad’s eyes widened in shock, and for a moment, he was speechless. Then, taking a deep breath, he held my hands and looked into my eyes. “Sarah, I need to tell you the truth,” he began, his voice heavy with emotion. “It’s about your mom, about when she was in the hospital.”

I leaned in, desperate for answers. “What happened?”

His gaze shifted as if he were reliving the past. “Your mother, Sarah,” he said softly. “She was everything to me. When she fell ill, we were drowning in medical bills. The hospital demanded payment upfront for the life-saving operation she needed. I begged, pleaded, but they turned a deaf ear.”

His voice cracked. “I had no choice. Desperation drove me to the De Luca family—their name whispered like a curse in our neighbourhood. They offered a way out, a loan. $25000. It seemed like salvation at the time.”

“But salvation came at a cost,” he continued. “Your mother lay on that sterile hospital bed, her life hanging by a thread. I signed the papers and sealed our fate. The De Lucas are ruthless, their eyes clear of mercy. They didn’t care about love or desperation. Only repayment.”

He paused, wiping away a tear. “I paid for the operation, Sarah. But it was too late. She slipped away, leaving me with guilt and a debt that clung to my soul. The De Lucas never forget. They’ve come for their pound of flesh—the only currency they value.”

I stared at him, the weight of generations pressing down. “And now they want me,” I whispered. “Three days to decide.”

Dad’s grip tightened. “I’m sorry, Sarah. I never wanted this burden for you.” Tears welled in his eyes. “I had no choice, Sarah. I had to try.”

Tears filled my eyes as I processed his words. The De Luca family. The loan. The threat. It all made a twisted kind of sense now. We were entangled in a web of old debts and dangerous promises, and I was about to be the price.

I squeezed his hands, trying to process everything. “We need to run, Dad. We can’t stay here.”

“It’s no use, Sarah. They’ll find us wherever we go. But maybe I can gather some money,” he suggested, though his voice lacked conviction.

“We can’t raise that amount in three days. We have to leave,” I insisted. “I can’t let them take me.”

Dad finally nodded, defeated. “Alright, I’ll contact some old friends. Maybe they can help us.”

The next day was a blur of frantic activity. Dad had managed to get in touch with a childhood friend in Miami who agreed to take us in. As we packed, Dad hugged me tightly. “We’ll be alright, Sarah. I promise.”

“I know, Dad. We just have to get through this,” I said, my voice steady despite the fear gnawing at my insides.

"I'll be back soon, Sarah," Dad said, his voice tense with worry. "I need to go to the bank to close some accounts and gather whatever cash I can."

I nodded, trying to hide my own anxiety. "Okay, Dad. Just be careful out there."

As soon as he left, I threw myself into finishing the packing. Each item I placed into the suitcase felt like another step closer to safety.

"I can't let them win," I muttered to myself, stuffing clothes into the bag with more force than necessary. "We can't stay here. We have to leave, I can't succumb to that man, no matter what."

With my heart pounding in my chest, I decided to run to the nearby grocery store for a few necessities. As I walked back, the weight of our situation pressed down on me over and over making each step feel heavier than the last.

When I reached home, my heart sank as I saw our front door ajar, the handle broken. Fear clutched at my chest as I walked in cautiously, calling out, “Dad?”

The place was a mess, completely scattered. My breath caught in my throat, and panic surged through me. I ran back out to the street, my mind racing. What if they’d already taken him?

A dark car sped up and screeched to a halt in front of me. The back window rolled down, and a cold voice commanded, “Get in.”

I stepped back, shaking my head. “No.”

“If you don’t get in, you’ll never see your father again,” the voice threatened.

Terror gripped me. Dad. They had him. Without another thought, I got into the car, the door slamming shut behind me.

The interior of the car was dimly lit, and I could barely make out the faces of the men sitting in the front. The car started moving immediately. I tried to steady my breathing, but my heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might burst out of my chest.

“Where’s my father?” I asked, my voice trembling.

“Don’t worry about him,” the man in the front passenger seat said without turning around. “You’ll see him soon enough.”