THE JOB
Antonio looked at Helena in shock as he watched her stagger back.
Helena's eyes narrowed, but a glint of opportunity flashed in them.
She stepped back dramatically, clutching her wrist as though he had hurt her.
"Oh! How dare you?!" she shrieked, her voice shrill and filled with feigned pain. "You've hurt me!"
Antonio's eyes widened. "What? No, I didn't—"
Before he could finish, footsteps pounded down the hall. Asher stormed into the room.
"What the hell is going on here?" Asher barked, his gaze darting between his mother and Antonio.
Helena, pointed at Antonio. "He attacked me! Your sister's husband thinks he can raise a hand to me!"
"I didn't touch her!" Antonio protested, stepping back in disbelief. "She's lying!"
But Asher wasn't listening. His rage was immediate, boiling over at the mere suggestion that Antonio had hurt their mother.
Without a word, he lunged at Antonio, slamming him against the wall. The air left Antonio's lungs as Asher's fist connected with his stomach, pain flowing through his body.
"You piece of trash," Asher growled, delivering another blow. "You don't get to touch my mother!"
Antonio gasped, trying to fend off the hits, but Asher was relentless, his punches landing one after another.
Helena stood by, watching with a cold, satisfied smile on her lips.
"Lisa!" he called out. "Tell them the truth! I didn't hurt your mother!"
But Lisa, her arms crossed and her face stony, only glanced at him with cold eyes.
"You're making things worse, Antonio. Just stop."
Antonio's heart sank. There was no help coming from her. She didn't care. She never had.
Asher's fist slammed into his ribs again, sending Antonio crumpling to the floor, gasping for breath. "You've been nothing but a burden to this family," Asher spat. "You're lucky we let you stay here at all."
With a final kick to Antonio's side, Asher stepped back, breathing heavily.
"Lock him up," James who had been quiet spoke up . "He can stay in the spare room until he learns his place."
Antonio was dragged by Asher barely able to stand, to the small spare room at the back of the mansion.
The door slammed shut behind him, the lock clicking into place, trapping him inside. He slumped against the wall.
Hours passed, and the house grew quiet. Antonio lay on the cold floor, his thoughts churning.
A soft knock interrupted his thoughts.
He sat up, wincing at the pain in his ribs. The door creaked open just a crack, and Sherlyn, slipped inside. Her face was filled with concern as she knelt beside him.
"Antonio, are you okay?" she whispered.
He shook his head. "No. I need to get out of here, Sherlyn."
Sherlyn nodded. "I can help you. But you have to be quiet."
With her help, Antonio managed to stand, though his body ached with every movement. Sherlyn led him through the darkened hallways, avoiding the creaky floorboards, until they reached a side exit.
"Be careful," she whispered.
"I will," Antonio promised.
**
Antonio fled into the night, But fate had other plans.
As he hurried through the streets, he took a shortcut down a narrow alley, hoping to avoid being seen. It was a mistake.
The moment he entered the alley, he heard footsteps behind him. Antonio froze, his stomach churning with dread as three men stepped out of the shadows.
"Well, well, look who it is," one of the men sneered. "Antonio. Long time no see."
Antonio's heart dropped. He recognized these men—they were part of a gang he'd fallen in with when he was living on the streets, before he had met Lisa.
He had owed them money back then, and judging by the looks on their faces, that debt hadn't been forgotten.
"I don't have any money," Antonio said quickly, backing away. "I'm not in that life anymore."
The leader of the group, a tall man with a scar running down his cheek, chuckled darkly. "Oh, we know you don't have money. But we're not here for cash, Antonio. We're here because you owe us."
"I don't—"
"You do," the scarred man interrupted, his voice cold. "And now it's time to pay up. Unless, of course, you want to find yourself in a worse situation."
Antonio swallowed hard. He knew these men were dangerous, and there was no way he could fight them off in his current state. He was trapped.
"What do you want?" Antonio asked.
The scarred man grinned. "It's simple. We need someone to run a few errands for us. Some... business that needs a little muscle. You do that, and we'll consider your debt paid."
Antonio's heart pounded in his chest. He knew how dangerous this kind of work could be, but what choice did he have?
These men wouldn't take no for an answer, and he couldn't afford to cross them.
Reluctantly, he nodded.
"Fine," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "I'll do it."
The scarred man clapped him on the shoulder, his grin widening. "Good boy."
"Now, all you have to do is go to this address pick up a parcel and report back to me." He added flashing a piece of paper in Antonio's direction.
As Antonio's hand was inches from the paper when, without warning, the scarred man yanked him backward. His breath caught in his throat as cold metal pressed against the side of his neck.
It was a knife. The blade felt sharp, biting into his skin just enough to make the threat clear without breaking the surface.
"Don't even think about running," he said with his breath hot against Antonio's cheek. Antonio's body went rigid, fear creeping into every fiber of his being.
"If you try to escape, or double-cross us," he continued, tightening his grip on Antonio's shoulder, "I'll haunt you down and slit your throat right here. No second chances."
Antonio swallowed hard.
The man pushed him forward, releasing the pressure of the knife but still keeping it close enough that Antonio knew it could return in an instant. His legs wobbled beneath him, and as soon as he was let go, he stumbled and fell, his knees crashing onto the cold, hard ground of the alley.
The gritty surface scraped against his skin.
"Hurry up!" the man barked from behind him. "Don't forget to mention that Andre sent you."
Antonio scrambled to his feet, his hands shaking as he brushed dirt from his palms.
His body was trembling, but he forced himself to stand.
"Remember what I told you," the man with the knife growled. He leaned in closer, his breath smelling faintly of tobacco. "One wrong move, and you're done."
Antonio nodded weakly, his throat dry. He didn't dare speak, afraid his voice might betray just how terrified he was.
As he straightened up, the scarred man gave him a hard shove. "Go get the damn parcel and get out of here."