The next day, I wake to the sound of the metal door scraping open, the harsh light spilling into the room. I squint against the brightness, my head throbbing from the constant ache of yesterday's beating. I don't remember falling asleep, but I must have. My body is stiff, the pain in my ribs now a dull throb.

The guy with the cigarette steps inside, his eyes scanning me briefly before he nods toward the door. "Get up. Time to work."

I barely have the strength to push myself to my feet. The guy doesn't wait for me to gather myself. He grabs my arm and yanks me forward, dragging me into a hallway.

He leads me to a cluttered office at the end. Inside, there's a man sitting behind a desk, flipping through a stack of papers. He looks up when we enter, giving me a glance before turning his attention back to the papers.

"This is him," the guy with the cigarette says. "The one we were telling you about."

The man behind the desk doesn't respond immediately. He's older, probably in his forties, with a scar running down his nose that makes him look even more menacing. He finally sets the papers down and motions for me to sit in the chair across from him.

I do as I'm told, though every muscle in my body protests. I don't speak. I don't dare.

"I don't care who you are, kid," the man says, his voice harsh as he looks me over. "But you're working for us now. We have a job for you, and you'll do it if you want to leave here in one piece. Got it?"

I nod. "What... what do you want me to do?"

"You'll be our runner. We've got some deliveries to make, and we don't trust anyone but someone who owes us. You're going to carry some packages for us. Nothing big. But if you screw this up, you won't get another chance."

"What's in the packages?"

"Doesn't matter. What matters is you get them from point A to point B without anyone knowing. And you'll do it fast. You make a mistake, and you'll wish you didn't. Understood?"

I don't dare answer anything but a simple, "Yeah."

The guy with the cigarette snickers behind me. The man behind the desk stands up and walks over to a cabinet, pulling out a small bag. He hands it to me, and I take it, my hands shaking slightly.

"Take this to the warehouse on the west side. You've got two hours. Don't be late," he says. "But first, I want to ask you some questions."

I nod again.

"What's your name?"

The thought to lie pops up, but I ignore it almost immediately. Lying is more dangerous than telling the truth. "Minho."

"How old are you?"

"Nineteen, sir."

"Only nineteen?" He looks me up and down. "A bit young, but I think we can get through with that. And you have family members we're connected to."

"I... I was actually going to ask you about that. Last night, I found out my father and older brother owe you guys something. Money, and maybe something else. I followed my father out here, but got caught by..." I motion at the cigarette man. "And ended up here. Could you tell me more about my father and brother?"

"He thought he could get away with everything. But nothing's free in this world. He took our money, tried to play the game, and then he messed up. You ever hear of the Chain? I'm guessing not, because if you did, you wouldn't be so surprised by this. Your old man owes us—big time. We let him for a while, but we've been keeping tabs on him for a lot longer than he thinks."

I don't know what the Chain is, but I can guess it's some criminal network. It's clear my father isn't just in some regular kind of debt. He's tangled up with something far worse.

"The Chain—that's what you need to understand here. It's a network of debts, favors, and power. Your father tried to borrow money from the wrong people, and when you do that, you don't get to walk away. You get stuck. When you owe us, you don't just pay it off with cash. We take... other things. We make sure you're invested in the game whether you want to be or not. And if you try to back out? Well, let's just say things get worse. Much worse."

I feel my stomach drop. "What... what do you mean, 'other things'?"

The man's lips curl into something that almost looks like a smile, but it lacks warmth. "It's simple. Control. We get what we want, when we want. People like your brother? They get involved thinking they can fix it. They think they're smart. But once you're in the Chain, there's no getting out. Sooner or later, you do the jobs, you run the errands... and if you refuse, like they do, you're in deep shit."

I can feel the blood drain from my face as he continues. The pieces are falling into place, and none of it is good.

"Like I said," the man continues, "your father's been taking risks he shouldn't have. If your father, or Dariel, doesn't pay, the violence adds in. Now, these men—your father and brother—are able to survive a beating. It won't change anything. Have a guess what will make change their mind, Minho."

My eyes are fixated on the ground. I'm unable to speak. Dariel, who I thought had everything in life, has been hiding all this. From me. From Mom. From Luciana—

Luciana.

Have a guess what will make change their mind, Minho.

"Hurting the ones they love," I respond.

"Very well. Now, you're lucky. Since you're working for us, we won't hurt you."

"Please don't hurt my family." I almost stand up. "Please don't—"

"Ah, calm. As long as you do your job, we have no reason to hurt your family. But your father and brother will remain untamed. I suggest you keep yourself out of it. I can assure you we won't hurt anyone that's dear to you."

"Don't worry, kid," says the cigarette guy. "Moms are important. We don't easily go around killing those."

"But..." I trail off.

"But what?"

I press my hands together in my lap, fidgeting. "My brother's girlfriend," I say slowly. "Please don't hurt her, either. She's dear to me. Almost as dear as my mom is," I beg.

He hums out loud. "We'll see about that. We haven't looked into it yet, but a girlfriend must be dear to your brother as well. It's a good opportunity to threaten him—"

"No!" My chair screeches over the floor. "You can't hurt her! If you do, I won't work for you, and I'll call the police, and—"

He pushes me back down. "Calm down. We haven't decided anything yet."

"Don't hurt her," I repeat. "Please."

"Moving on. You're gonna run errands for us," the man behind the counter begins. "Make deliveries, take care of things for us. Keep your head down, stay out of trouble. You screw up? You don't want to know what happens after that."

My heart pounds in my chest, my hands shaking as I grip the small bag he handed me earlier.

"Your job is simple, Minho. You're our runner now. You do the work, you stay alive. Don't do the work, and you won't get the chance to regret it."

I nod quickly, though it feels like my whole world is falling apart around me. I don't have any other choice. What choice do I have?

"Two hours," the man repeats. "Get moving."