The heavy chandelier above cast shifting shadows as Eric sat stiffly at the long dining table. His father, a towering figure of authority, sipped his whiskey, eyes cold as steel.
"Son, from now on, you will be the head of our clan and continue my work."
Eric clenched his fists. "I don't want anything to do with this."
His father chuckled darkly. "I know. But I have something that might change your mind."
A snap of fingers. A door creaked open, revealing a girl—bound, her dark eyes flashing with defiance.
Eric’s stomach twisted. "Gabriel, let her go."
"She attacked you, son. Our laws are strict. But I will release her... if you agree to my terms."
Before Eric could answer, the girl lunged, snatching a knife from the table and pressing it to his throat.
"Where’s the exit?" she hissed.
Eric’s pulse pounded. "You can’t just walk out of here. Let me help you."
She scoffed. "Why should I trust you, the son of a monster?"
"If I wanted to betray you, I would have already." His voice was steady. "Trust me. There’s one place he’ll never look."
She hesitated. "Where?"
"In this house."
He led her to his room, locking the door behind them. The girl—Gabriella—paced like a caged animal. "Don’t come near me."
Eric raised his hands. "I won’t hurt you."
She scoffed. "You’re just like your father."
"I’m not."
Gabriella watched him, her grip on the knife loosening. Silence stretched between them, thick with tension. Then, she noticed something—his desk, scattered with sketches.
"What’s this?" she demanded.
Eric rubbed the back of his neck. "When I see something beautiful, I draw it. I can’t help it."
She snorted. "The mobster’s son is an artist? Poor boy. Trapped in a golden cage."
Eric’s voice was quiet. "I’m the hostage here."
She studied him, then muttered, "I’ll believe it when I see it."
Days turned into weeks. Eric smuggled food, brought her books, even taught her to navigate the mansion’s blind spots. Somewhere along the way, she stopped flinching when he reached for her. And somewhere along the way, Eric realized he was no longer just helping her escape—he was falling for her.
"Eric." His father’s voice cut through the warmth. "Your initiation is today."
Eric swallowed hard. "Dad, I—"
"There is nothing to discuss. Get downstairs."
Gabriella gripped his arm. "Run away with me."
His heart cracked. "I can’t just leave."
"Then kneel before me and ask for forgiveness," she whispered. "Show me you’re different."
His father’s footsteps neared. Gabriella’s voice trembled. "Please."
Eric exhaled sharply—then dropped to his knees. "I’m sorry."
Gasps rippled through the gathered clan. His father’s expression darkened. "What is this?"
Gabriella took Eric’s hand, lifting it to her stomach. "Your son will be a father."
The room erupted in chaos. Eric’s father stood frozen, fury radiating off him. "This is treason."
Eric stood tall, shielding Gabriella. "No. This is freedom."
Gunfire echoed as they fled. Guards fell, one by one, as Eric carved a path through the house that had imprisoned him for years. Gabriella clung to his hand, breath ragged.
"Keep going!" he urged.
A final door—an open road beyond it. They burst into the night, wind cold against their skin.
His father’s voice rang behind them. "You’ll regret this, Eric!"
Eric looked at Gabriella, her eyes shining with something new—hope.
"Maybe," he murmured. "But I’d rather regret this than regret not trying."
She squeezed his hand. "Then let’s never stop running."
And they vanished into the dark, leaving the outlaw life behind.
What would you choose—loyalty to family or love that sets you free?
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