Captive of the Mafia

The air in the abandoned building was thick with stale smoke. "This shit is going to kill us soon," Kris said, her voice a low murmur as she took another drag.

I just smiled, sitting back on my knees, watching the street through a cracked window.

"They're going to suspend us from school," I replied, the familiar worry a dull ache.

Suddenly, three black SUVs, sleek and out of place, cruised into our block. My stomach twisted.

"What's the mafia doing here today?" Kris asked, her voice dropping.

We finished our cigarettes quickly, the bad feeling intensifying. Walking home, I saw them parked outside my building. Money. Power. And a chilling sense of dread. Running up the stairs to our fifth-floor apartment, I saw a large man in a black suit by our door. He knocked three times, and the door opened.

"Get in!" he said, his voice a command.

Then I heard it. My brother, screaming inside. The need to run warred with the urge to rush to him. But his scream won. I ran inside and froze. Two men held Anderson down, a knife pinning his hand to the table.

"Anderson!" I screamed, rushing forward, only to be grabbed by strong hands. My brother, tears in his eyes, begged them to let me go. Then, a man emerged from the living room – Silas. His eyes were terrifying. And his words were a death sentence for my old life.

"Your sister in exchange for your life!" he said to my brother.

Anderson's frantic refusal was cut short. A sharp pinch in my neck, the world went blurry, and the last thing I saw was Anderson mouthing, "I'm so sorry!" as tears streamed down his face.