The night had begun like any other. Celia, barely seventeen at the time, sat at the worn wooden table in the cramped living room of her parents' house. The dim lighting did little to hide the frayed edges of their life—the peeling wallpaper, the creaking floorboards, the sense of quiet desperation that hung in the air. It was all they had known for years.
Her father, Nathaniel Ford, sat across from her, his head in his hands, his once strong frame now hunched and defeated. Her mother, Evelyn, hovered near the kitchen, pretending to be busy as if her movements could somehow fix the storm that had been brewing in their lives for months.
Celia glanced at her father, her heart aching. The man who had once been so proud, so full of life, had withered under the weight of the debts that had piled up. It was all too much. The whispers had started months ago—rumors of unpaid loans, of gambling debts, of deals gone wrong with dangerous people. Her father had made bad choices, but no one had expected it to go this far. No one had expected it to lead to them.
The Ferrara family.
The name alone sent chills down Celia's spine. They were not just loan sharks. They were monsters. Ruthless. Cold. Unforgiving. Her father had borrowed money from them, thinking he could pay it back. He had been wrong.
So wrong.
"I'll fix this," Nathaniel had whispered to his family countless times, the words now hollow and empty. But tonight, his voice was filled with something more—an urgency, a panic that Celia had never heard before. "I'll fix this, Evelyn. Don't worry. It's all going to be fine."
But it wasn't.
Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Celia's stomach twisted into knots. Her father flinched, and her mother froze in place, gripping the edge of the kitchen counter so hard her knuckles turned white.
"Who could that be?" Evelyn asked, though they all knew.
Celia's heart began to race. She could feel the tension, the unspoken fear that had been looming over their family for months. It had finally arrived.
"I'll handle it," her father said, his voice shaking.
Before he could move, the door burst open with a crash, and men flooded into their small home. There were five of them, all clad in dark suits, their eyes cold and dead as they surveyed the room. Leading them was Dominic Ferrara, the head of the Ferrara family's operations in the city. His presence was overwhelming, a terrifying mix of calm control and simmering violence.
Nathaniel stumbled back, terror flashing across his face. "Please," he started, his hands raised. "I just need more time. I'll get the money—"
Dominic silenced him with a raised hand, stepping forward with slow, deliberate steps. His eyes flickered to Celia, then to Evelyn, before returning to Nathaniel. "We've given you plenty of time, Ford. Too much time, in fact."
Nathaniel's face crumbled. "I just—"
"But you've run out of chances," Dominic continued, his voice low and dangerous. "Now, we're going to take what we're owed. You know the terms. You fail to pay, we take something in return."
Celia felt the room spin as Dominic's gaze landed on her, cold and assessing. She took a step back, her blood running cold.
"No," her father begged, moving to shield her. "Not her. Please, not my daughter. She has nothing to do with this."
Dominic's lips curled into a cruel smile. "She's everything to do with this. She's the collateral."
Celia's heart dropped into her stomach. She could see her mother's face, white with fear, her hands shaking as she clutched the counter behind her. This couldn't be happening. This wasn't real.
Dominic stepped forward, his men flanking him. "We take her, and your debt is settled, Ford. Simple as that."
Before her father could speak again, another voice cut through the tense air, sharp and commanding. "Not tonight, Ferrara."
The front door swung open again, and this time, a new group of men entered. They moved like shadows, swift and silent, dressed in sleek black suits, guns drawn. Celia barely registered the sleek black car outside before her eyes landed on the man at the center of them all.
Ezra Luca-de-liang.
He strode into the room like he owned it, his presence even more powerful than Dominic's. His sharp jawline and piercing gaze were unwavering as he assessed the situation. Though she hadn't seen him before, Celia knew instinctively who he was—another name whispered in fear, another player in the dangerous game her father had dragged them into. But unlike Dominic, Ezra seemed...different. More controlled. More lethal.
Ezra's men fanned out, positioning themselves strategically around the room, guns trained on the Ferrara thugs.
Dominic's eyes narrowed. "This isn't your business, Valenti."
Ezra didn't flinch. "It is now."
Celia's father collapsed into a chair, his hands trembling. "Please," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Don't take her."
Ezra glanced at Nathaniel for a brief moment before turning his attention back to Dominic. "You know the rules, Ferrara. You take what's yours only when it's been forfeited. And this girl," his eyes flickered to Celia, making her heart skip a beat, "isn't yours. Not yet."
Dominic's lip curled in disdain, his hand twitching near the gun at his hip. "This isn't about the rules anymore. Ford owes us, and we'll take what's ours. You can't stop that."
Ezra smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I can. And I will."
For a moment, it seemed like time froze, the tension between the two men thick and heavy in the air. Then, without warning, a gunshot rang out, shattering the silence. Chaos erupted.
Celia barely had time to register the sound before Ezra's men opened fire, the room exploding into a frenzy of bullets and bodies. She screamed, ducking as her mother pulled her to the floor, shielding her with her body. Her father, caught between the two warring factions, scrambled to find cover, but there was nowhere safe.
Gunfire ripped through the small house, plaster flying from the walls, furniture splintering under the onslaught. Dominic's men returned fire, but they were outnumbered and outmaneuvered. Ezra's men moved with military precision, cutting them down one by one.
Celia's heart raced, her body trembling as she huddled on the floor beside her mother. She could hear her father shouting, could hear the screams and the gunfire, but it all felt distant, like she was underwater. Time seemed to slow down, the violence around her surreal and dreamlike.
Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the gunfire stopped.
Celia looked up, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The room was a wreck, bullet holes pockmarking the walls, blood staining the floor. Bodies lay scattered, some of them Dominic's men, others Ezra's. But the battle wasn't over.
Dominic, bloodied but still standing, snarled as he aimed his gun at Ezra. "You should have stayed out of this."
Ezra's expression remained calm, but his eyes were cold, like ice. "I don't take orders from men like you."
Before Dominic could pull the trigger, another shot rang out—this time from behind him. He jerked, his body spasming as the bullet struck him in the back. One of Ezra's men had flanked him, taking the shot.
Dominic fell to the ground, his gun slipping from his hand.
Celia's heart pounded as the dust settled, the silence almost as deafening as the gunfire had been. She slowly stood, her legs shaking, her mind struggling to process what had just happened.
Her eyes searched the room, and then she saw it—her father, slumped against the wall, a dark stain spreading across his chest.
"No!" Celia screamed, rushing to him, but her mother held her back, tears streaming down her face.
"It's too late," Evelyn whispered, her voice breaking. "He's gone."
Celia's world crumbled in that moment. Her father was dead. Everything was over. She fell to her knees, sobbing as her mother held her tightly, the weight of their loss crashing down on them both.
Ezra, standing amidst the wreckage, glanced down at her, his expression unreadable. He had come to save her, but the cost had been too high. Her father was gone, and her life would never be the same again.
Celia looked up at him through her tears, the question burning in her eyes: Why? Why had he come? Why had he saved her?
But Ezra said nothing. He simply turned, giving a nod to his men. They began to clear the bodies, their movements efficient and cold. And just like that, the nightmare ended, leaving Celia alone in the aftermath of the bloodshed.
Ezra had saved her from Dominic Ferrara, but in doing so, he had plunged her into a world of violence and darkness—a world she would never truly escape.