"You worthless little shit!"
The slap cracked through the air like a gunshot.
Ryan stumbled backward, his thin frame slamming into the rickety dining table. His glasses flew off his face and skittered across the filthy floor.
The world blurred instantly edges melting, colors bleeding together but he didn't dare reach for them. Not while his father was still moving.
"You think you can hide my money, huh?!" The old man's voice was raw, slurred with cheap whiskey and pure venom.
He lunged forward again, meaty fist swinging. "I lost everything tonight because of you! Because of your sniveling face!"
Ryan threw his arms up instinctively, curling into himself like a kicked dog. The punch landed on his shoulder with a dull thud, knocking him to his knees.
Pain exploded through his arm, hot and sharp, but he bit down on his lip hard enough to draw blood so he wouldn't cry out. Crying only made it worse. Always made it worse.
"I-I'm sorry…" His voice cracked, barely louder than a whisper. Tears were already spilling down his cheeks, hot and humiliating.
"Dad, please… I didn't touch your money, I swear..."
Another kick caught him in the ribs. Ryan gasped, folding over, forehead pressing against the grimy linoleum. His whole body shook violently, shoulders jerking with silent sobs he couldn't hold back anymore. Snot and tears mixed on his face. He could taste copper in his mouth.
"You're just like your bitch mother," his father snarled, breathing heavy, spit flying from his lips. "Weak. Pathetic. Always crying, always making excuses. I should've drowned you the day you were born!"
Ryan's fingers clawed at the floor, searching blindly for his glasses. His vision swam with tears and fear. Every breath hurt. Every heartbeat felt like it might be his last. He wanted to disappear. He wanted the floor to swallow him whole. He wanted...
The front door exploded inward with a deafening bang.
But Ryan didn't look up. He couldn't. He just stayed there on his knees, trembling, face hidden in his arms, soft broken whimpers slipping out between gasping breaths.
"Please… please stop…" he whispered to no one, voice tiny and shattered. "I'll be good… I promise I'll be good…"
He was still crying when heavy boots stepped into the room.
Four massive men in black suits stormed in, guns drawn, faces carved from stone. The leader a bald brute with a scarred jaw barked a single command.
"Frank! You're three weeks late, you drunk fuck."
Ryan's father spun, bottle still in hand, eyes wild with booze and rage. "Who the hell...?"
The first punch silenced him. A meaty fist slammed into the old man's jaw with a wet crack. He staggered, swinging wildly, but the men were faster. They swarmed him like wolves. Boots connected with ribs.
Fists rained down. Curses flew... "Pay up or we break every bone in your worthless body!" ...while Ryan's father howled and spat blood onto the filthy floor.
Ryan stayed frozen on his knees for half a second, heart hammering so hard he thought it would burst. Then something inside his terrified brain snapped.
He scrambled forward on all fours, glasses still missing, vision a blurry nightmare of shadows and violence. "N-no! Please... don't hurt him!" His voice cracked high and pathetic, tears already streaming down his flushed cheeks.
He threw his body between the attackers and his father, arms spread wide like a broken shield. "He's my dad… please… I'll do anything, just stop hitting him!"
The guards paused, exchanging dark glances. One of them actually laughed under his breath.
"Move, kid."
Ryan shook his head frantically, sobbing openly now, snot mixing with tears. "Please… he didn't mean it… he's just drunk… I'll pay it, I swear I'll find the money..."
A heavy hand shoved his shoulder, but he clung desperately, whimpering. The men stepped aside anyway, because a new set of heels clicked sharply against the broken doorframe.
Lauren Vossstepped into view.
She was ice in human form tall, sharp black coat hugging lethal curves, platinum hair pulled into a severe ponytail, eyes like frozen steel. The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. Even the guards straightened, fear flickering behind their professional masks.
Her gaze swept over the scene and locked onto Ryan.
The boy was still on his knees, trembling violently, face streaked with tears, lips quivering as he whispered broken apologies into the floor. Without his glasses the world was soft and terrifying; he looked even smaller, even more fragile.
Lauren's expression didn't soften. Not even a fraction.
She walked forward slowly, heels clicking like countdowns, then crouched in front of him. One gloved hand shot out and seized his jaw hard. Fingers dug in deep enough that he knew there would be bruises tomorrow.
Ryan winced sharply, a soft broken sound escaping his throat, fresh tears spilling over her knuckles.
Lauren tilted his face up, forcing those wide, terrified eyes to meet hers. For a long second she just studied him, thumb pressing cruelly into his cheek.
Then she laughed low, cold, amused.
"Fucking hell… look at you. Scared little rabbit pissing himself to protect the piece of shit who beats him every night." Her voice was velvet over razor blades. "Pathetic."
Ryan's breath hitched in a sob. He tried to look away, but her grip was iron.
She released his jaw abruptly, only to stand and snap her fingers at the nearest guard.
"His debt is paid off," she said flatly, tone leaving no room for argument. "Consider it settled."
The guard blinked. "Ma'am?"
"I said it's paid. Now get the boy. He's coming with me."
Before Ryan could even process the words, rough hands fisted in his messy hair. He yelped high, weak, terrified as the guard yanked him upright and shoved him toward the door.
"Move it, pretty boy."
Ryan stumbled, legs shaking so badly he nearly collapsed again, tears pouring freely. "W-wait... please, my dad... my glasses... I can't..."
"Shut your mouth," the guard growled, dragging him out into the hallway like a ragdoll.
Lauren didn't look back. She turned on her heel and walked out, sliding into the back of her sleek black Mercedes without another word. The door shut with a soft, expensive click.
In a separate SUV, the guards threw Ryan into the backseat, one of them cuffing his wrist to the door handle for good measure. He curled into himself immediately, shoulders heaving with silent sobs, face pressed against the cold window.
He had no idea where they were taking him.
He only knew he was too scared to ask.