Gunshots echoed through the neighborhood, followed by screams of terror. People ran for their lives, scattering like leaves in a storm.
A man in a black suit smirked as he walked down the cracked pavement, his shoes clicking with slow, deliberate steps that reeked of confidence—and danger.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The sound wasn't polite. It was commanding.
My alpha dad hesitated before opening the door, only to be grabbed by the collar and dragged inside.
"Where's my money?" the man asked in a deep, husky voice that could send chills down anyone's spine.
"Come on, talk," he demanded, tightening his grip around my dad's neck.
"I—I will give it to you!" my dad stammered, his voice trembling as he struggled to breathe. "Please, give me more time. Just a little more time!"
"Time?" The man repeated the word mockingly, his lips curving into a cold smirk. "What a funny word. Time, huh?"
He chuckled darkly, but the sound faded as quickly as it came, his eyes narrowing like a predator's. "You have a death wish, don't you?"
Before I could think, I shouted, "Hey! Let go of my dad!"
The room went silent.
There I was—Lian Delen, yelling at a mafia enforcer who could probably kill me before I even blinked. The man's bodyguards towered behind him, armed and emotionless, yet for some reason, his attention snapped to me.
Our eyes met.
For a heartbeat, everything around me disappeared.
My heart pounded so hard I thought it might break free from my chest.
The man smirked, finally releasing my dad as he turned fully to face me. His gaze swept over me slowly, like he was memorizing every detail.
"Hey, doll," he said softly, his tone mocking yet strangely intimate.
"W-What? Doll?!" I sputtered, heat rushing to my cheeks. "Who are you calling a doll, asshole?"
He chuckled, low and dark, clearly entertained by my outburst.
One of his men moved forward, but he raised a hand, stopping him.
He just stood there, watching me talk—his blue eyes unreadable, his smirk growing wider.
Honestly, I don't think he even heard what I said.
The man's smirk deepened as he took a slow step closer. Every movement he made was deliberate, predatory — like a lion stalking prey that dared to roar back.
He tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing on me. "You've got a mouth on you, don't you, doll?"
I glared up at him, though my legs trembled. "My name's not doll. It's Lian."
"Lian," he repeated softly, tasting the sound of it like a secret. "Pretty name. Doesn't suit a kid who shouts at killers."
I swallowed hard, the reality of the situation slowly crashing over me. He wasn't just some street thug. The way his men stood behind him, silent and disciplined—the way the air itself felt heavy around him—I knew who he was before he even said it.
Adrian Volkov. The Mafia God.
My father had borrowed money from him.
And now, it seemed, he'd come to collect.
"Mr. Volkov, please," my dad begged again, his voice cracking. "I just need a few more days. I can get the money—"
Adrian's hand shot out, gripping my dad's chin and forcing him to look up. "You've been saying that for six months," he said coldly. "I don't do extensions, old man. I do examples."
My dad froze. I felt my stomach drop.
"No!" I shouted again, stepping between them without thinking. "If you want something—take it from me!"
The room went still. Even his men looked surprised.
Adrian's eyes flicked down to me, amusement sparking in their icy blue depths. "You?" he murmured, studying me like I was an unexpected gift. "And what exactly do you have to offer, little omega?"
I stiffened. "I can work. I'll pay the debt off myself."
He chuckled — a low, velvety sound that made the air thicken around us. "You? Pay off five million in debt? What could you possibly do to be worth that much?"
"I'll do whatever it takes," I said, forcing the words out before fear could swallow them.
Adrian's gaze sharpened. He leaned closer, his breath brushing against my ear as he whispered, "Careful what you offer, doll. I might just take you at your word."
My heart nearly stopped.
Then he straightened, eyes glinting like steel. "Fine. The debt is yours now."
"What?!" I gasped.
He turned toward his men. "Pack him up. He belongs to me until the debt is paid."
The words hit like gunfire. My father shouted my name, but two of Adrian's men were already at my sides, gripping my arms.
I thrashed, shouting, "You can't just take me!"
Adrian looked back once, his expression unreadable. "Oh, I can, sweetheart. You offered."
Then he smiled — that same dark, intoxicating smile that would haunt me for the rest of my life — and said,
> "Welcome to my world, Lian."