Human Collateral

Tessa

"What are you talking about?" I stammer, my heart hammering against my ribs.

Silas doesn't answer right away. He grabs my shoulder and forcefully shoves me back inside the dimly lit house. He turns around and slams the heavy wooden front door shut, twisting the deadbolt. A loud, ominous click echoes through the tense silence of the living room.

"You're coming with me, Tessa," he announces. His voice holds no paternal warmth, no hesitation. He looks at me with dead eyes. "Cooperate, and let's get this done. I have till noon tomorrow to bring the collateral."

My breath sharply hitches in my throat. I take a step back, my mind racing to process his words. "What collateral, Silas?"

Myra walks into the room, her arms crossed over her chest, a confused frown marring her makeup. "We're not giving up the house," she spits defensively.

"No, not the house," Silas replies, his tone clipped and matter-of-fact. "They don't want physical possessions. They want human collateral. I told them I have two daughters at home, and the gang demanded that I bring one of them directly to their compound."

The air leaves my lungs. The room seems to tilt on its axis as the horrifying truth settles into my bones. The Mafia doesn't want money. They want me.

Myra steps forward, her eyes wide with a sudden, selfish panic. She looks from Silas to me, processing the math of survival. "And what did you tell them?" she asks, her voice rising in pitch. She points a manicured finger directly at my face. "Are you taking her, right?"

"Yes, Tessa is going to be my collateral," Silas states.

"Good," Myra exhales a harsh breath of relief, her shoulders dropping. "Because there is no way in hell I'm going to allow you to take Sloane!"

My heart shatters into a million jagged pieces. I stare at the woman who has lived in this house with me, who should have been some semblance of a mother figure. "But you'll allow him to take me?" I ask, my voice breaking. Hot tears prick my eyes, blurring my vision. "You'd let him hand me over to a gang of ruthless criminals?"

Myra glares at me with pure disdain. "You're not my daughter!" she yells coldly.

The first tear escapes, tracking a hot path down my cheek. Desperate, I turn to my father. The man who raised me. The man who is supposed to protect me from the evils of the world. "Dad," I sob, my voice trembling as I beg for my life. "You know exactly how the Mafia operates. You know what they do to women. They use them as literal sex slaves. You can't just hand me over to them. You can't do this to me!"

Silas stands there, his beaten and bruised face an impassive mask. He looks at his own flesh and blood without a shred of empathy. He has already made his choice. "I don't have any choice, dear," he says bluntly. "They'll kill me if I don't bring anyone. At least this way, we get to pay off our debt."

I freeze in place. Pure, unadulterated disbelief washes over me, chilling my blood. He genuinely doesn't care. He is willing to sacrifice my body and my soul just to save his own pathetic life.

"And you don't think I'll die when I go to them?" I scream at the top of my lungs, my vocal cords burning with the force of my betrayal. "I'll become a sex slave! I'll be passed around among the men, and when I'm worthless, they'll kill me! It doesn't bother you that thousands of ruthless men are going to brutalize and rape your own daughter!"

Myra covers her ears, her face twisting in annoyance. "You're shouting. My ears hurt."

I refuse to accept this doomed fate. I fiercely wipe the tears from my cheeks, glaring at the man standing between me and the door. In this exact moment, Silas permanently loses the right to ever be called my father again.

"Tessa—" Silas begins.

"Don't fucking call my name, Silas," I spit venomously. "Get out of the fucking door. I'm leaving this house right now!"

I lunge forward, aiming for the handle.

Before my fingers can even graze the metal, a blindingly hot slap viciously strikes my face. The sheer force of the blow snaps my head to the side. Pain explodes across my cheek, and I instantly taste the distinct, coppery tang of fresh blood oozing from my split lip.

"How dare you?" Silas growls. The last trace of restraint vanishes from his expression, leaving behind something incredibly cold and menacing. "I'm trying to be lenient here, and you're acting stubborn. If you don't come willingly, I'll tie you up myself."

"The effrontery," Myra sneers from the background. "She's calling you by your name. This girl has lost all her respect!"

I ignore her cruel taunts. I spit a mouthful of blood onto the floor and aggressively attempt to shove my way past Silas's large frame toward freedom. I just need to get out the door.

But Silas pushes me backward with his full body weight.

I lose my footing on the cheap floorboards. My arms flail in the air as my body flies backward. The world spins, and then my head sickeningly slams directly against the sharp wooden base of a heavy armchair.

Blinding agony instantly flares across my skull and shoots straight down my spine. A breathless gasp escapes my lips. The room blurs into a hazy mix of shadows and light. Trembling, I reach up to touch my scalp. My fingers come away wet and sticky. I realize with dawning horror that my head is bleeding.

Before my dizzy brain can even recover from the brutal trauma, hands clamp around my ankle. Silas yanks me across the floor.

I scream bloody murder. Pure survival instinct kicks in. I thrash my limbs wildly, kicking and clawing at anything I can reach, pleading for mercy. "Let me go! Please!"

Myra leaps forward mercilessly. She drops her body weight over my chest, firmly holding my struggling arms down against the dusty floorboards. I buck and writhe, but the pain in my head makes the room spin, draining my strength.

Working together, Silas pulls out a coil of thick, rough rope. He ruthlessly binds my wrists tightly behind my back, pulling the coarse fibers so hard they bite deep into my skin. He moves down, wrapping the rope tightly around my kicking ankles, securing them together in a knot that refuses to give.

I continue to scream, my throat tearing with the effort, begging them to stop. To silence my agonizing cries, Silas rips off a piece of thick silver duct tape. He slaps it straight over my mouth, securely sealing my lips shut. My frantic, desperate cries are muffled into pathetic whimpers.

Ignoring my squirming and muffled sobs, Silas grabs me by the waist and heaves my tied-up body over his shoulder like a piece of dead meat. The blood from my scalp drips down the side of my face.

"Will you be free tonight?" Myra asks casually, dusting off her hands as if she just finished a household chore.

"The Mafia will let me go free once the collateral is delivered," Silas assures her, stepping out of the house and into the cool night air.

He dumps me unceremoniously into the backseat of his car. I sob uncontrollably through the entire blurry, terrifying ride. Every bump in the road sends a fresh throb of agony through my bleeding head. The rough ropes chafe against my wrists and ankles until my bound limbs go numb. The tape over my mouth traps my sobs, forcing me to choke on my own panic.

I don't know how much time passes before the vehicle finally screeches to a halt. Car doors slam. The trunk pops. Silas opens the back door and physically hauls me out of the seat.

Through my tear-filled vision, I see a group of massive, scruffy, heavily armed men surrounding the car. They look exactly like the terrifying guards from the club. I thrash against Silas's hold, letting out frantic, muffled screams for help through the duct tape.

The mobsters ignore me. One of them steps forward, his massive hands gripping a dark plastic bag. Before I can turn my head away, he shoves the suffocating bag over my bleeding head, plunging me into absolute blindness.

The smell of dusty plastic fills my nostrils. Rough hands grab my arms and legs. I am roughly carried blindly by the guards into the terrifying unknown. My heart hammers against my ribs, beating so hard it feels like it might crack my chest open. The sound of heavy boots marching across pavement echoes all around me.

Suddenly, the hands let go. I am harshly dropped straight onto the hard, cold concrete ground. Pain shoots through my bound knees as they take the brunt of the impact. I groan through the tape, curling in on myself in the suffocating darkness.

A heavy silence falls over the area. Then, the silence is broken by a deep, incredibly smooth, and terrifyingly familiar voice.

"Is this your collateral?" the voice asks smoothly.

"Yes," Silas replies, his voice laced with nervous cowardice.

"Name?" the voice demands.

"Tessa Mercer," my father answers instantly.

Beneath the suffocating darkness of the plastic bag, my heart begins to race a mile a minute. My chest heaves against my tight binds as I struggle to draw in oxygen. That deep, commanding voice echoes in my head. It sounds so incredibly familiar. The realization hits me like a freight train, knocking the remaining breath from my lungs.

No. It cannot be him.