Chapter 2

Julian stood at the railing, his hands gripping the cold metal until his knuckles turned white.

The river below was black and restless, swallowing the faint light from the bridge. His mind replayed every cruel word his father and sister had ever thrown at him— die, useless, murderer.

He remembered the night his father lost a bet, came home drunk, and beat him until he could barely breathe. If the neighbour hadn't stepped in, he would have died. The scars on his body were proof of the life he had been forced to endure.

Julian's chest ached. He was tired, tired of the abuse, tired of the hatred, tired of being nothing more than a slave in his own home. Death felt like the only escape.

His thoughts drifted to his girlfriend. He loved her, but deep down he believed he wasn't worthy of her. He could never give her the life she deserved. A bitter laugh escaped his lips. "Maybe I really am useless." He thought. "What's the point of living if I'm already a walking corpse?"

Tears blurred his vision as he lifted one leg onto the railing, ready to jump.

"Are you sure you can do it?"

The voice cut through the night. Julian turned his head slowly. A man stood nearby, casually smoking a cigarette.

The stranger inhaled, then spoke through the smoke. "You jump, and your body panics before your mind does. Everything inside you fights to stay alive."

Julian's grip tightened on the railing.

"You'll regret it halfway down." The man continued. "There's pain. There's fear. And then there's time — enough time to realize you made the wrong choice."

He exhaled, the smoke drifting toward the river. His voice dropped lower. "And when it's over, it won't be peace. Just silence. And everyone who hurt you still gets to breathe."

Julian's body trembled.

The man stepped closer, close enough for Julian to feel his presence. "So." He said softly. "Are you really ready to end it like that? Or would you rather stay alive... to make them pay?"

Julian's lips parted, but no words came. His eyes fell back to the river, fear rising in his chest. His grip on the railing loosened.

The man's lips curved into a faint smile. Without another word, he turned and walked away. A car pulled up, he got in, and it sped off into the night.

Julian stood frozen, staring after him. His tears still fell, but something inside him had shifted. For the first time, he felt a spark of determination. Determination to stay alive. Determination to fight back. He was done with his family, done being their slave, done being used. Tomorrow, he would not let his father hand him over. He would rather die than be given to a heartless monster. Over his dead body would he agree to traded.

Julian turned his eyes toward the road where the car had disappeared. A strange sense of gratitude filled him. That man — whoever he was — had given him something no one else ever had; strength. Strength to keep going, strength to believe he wasn't finished yet.

He didn't even know the man's name, but it didn't matter. Because of him, he had found the will to live. And for that, he would always be grateful.

*****

The next day....

Julian walked home, his mind set. He was determined to stand up to his father and sister. No more torture. No more being their slave. But as he neared the house, his steps slowed. Black cars lined the street in front of their home. His chest tightened. Something was wrong.

He broke into a run.

Inside, chaos hit him like a storm. Men in suits were beating his father mercilessly, fists and boots crashing down. Two others held Tiffany back as she screamed, tears streaming down her face.

"Dad!" Julian cried, rushing forward, but strong arms grabbed him, pinning him in place. He struggled, his voice breaking. "Let go! Stop hitting him! Please, stop!" His pleas went unanswered. The beating continued until Martin was barely conscious, blood covering his face, his body limp.

Julian sobbed. "Please... that's enough! Don't kill him!"

"Let him go, please!" Tiffany screamed, thrashing against her captors.

Finally, one of the guards barked. "Enough!" The men stepped back, leaving Martin crumpled on the floor.

Julian gasped for breath. "Dad..." He tried to move toward him, but the guards held him tight.

Then the room shifted. Another man entered, and instantly, every guard bowed their heads. "Boss!" They said in unison.

The man walked straight to Julian. Julian's eyes locked on him, and recognition struck like lightening. His breath caught. "You..."

It was him. The man from the bridge. The one who had stopped him from ending his life.

Adrian DeCarlo. The Mafia King.

Adrian smirked at Julian's shock, then turned to Martin. The older man lay broken, his face swollen, blood dripping from his mouth. Adrian crouched beside him, his voice calm but deadly. "I hope you haven't forgotten the deal. I'm here to claim what's mine."

Martin trembled, forcing himself to his knees. His hands pressed together, his voice shaking. "P-please... spare me. Spare my daughter. Take my son. He's yours. Just don't kill me."

Julian's heart shattered. "Dad!" He cried, his voice raw.

Martin wouldn't look at him. "He's all yours." He whispered, fear dripping from every word.

Adrian rose to his feet, his smirk never fading. He walked back to Julian, his presence heavy, suffocating.

Julian's eyes burned with rage, tears spilling down his cheeks. "I'm not going! You can't take me! Over my dead body!"

Adrian leaned in close, his breath brushing Julian's ear. His voice was low, mocking, victorious.

"You have no choice." He whispered. "You're mine now, pup."