Chapter 6 The Offer

• MALIA
• He didn’t speak as he approached the man, whom I could only assume was the Don. He bent slightly at the waist, leaned close, and whispered something directly into the older man's ear. The silence that followed was too sharp to be accidental. This surely could be considered another form of torture. Letting their victim, my father, shiver in fear about what they planned in silence.
• Gosh, I had no time for this. My vision became blurrier by the minute. I needed to figure out what I could do here before I passed out.
• The Don didn’t respond immediately. Instead, a low chuckle rose from his chest. It wasn’t a laugh born from humor or even satisfaction. It was deeper and darker, making an icy shiver run through my body. Of course, that could also be due to the blood loss.
• “Marcello!” the Don called out with relish, like he had received fantastic news, and that made my stomach twist. That smile the Don had on his face reminded me of psychos in horror movies and made me gulp hard. Somehow, I constantly had the feeling of something being stuck in my throat today.
• Whatever the guy from earlier had suggested, it wasn’t going to be good. Not for my father. At least I couldn’t imagine it could be.
• The Don tapped his cane once, the sharp crack slicing through the still air. He was ready to make an announcement, and everyone, meaning my father and I, was holding their breath in fear of what would follow.
• “A new possibility has just opened up, and it could save you a lot of misery, Owen Williams,” he said. “And I’m more than certain it’s a price you’re willing—no, eager—to pay.”
• My father’s head jerked up. His face contorted in pure, naked panic. It mirrored how I felt inside.
• “ Wha-what is it?” he asked, his voice trembling, cracking like a window about to break. “ I-I’ll do anything. Anything… just please… make it stop.”
• I bit down so hard on my lip I tasted blood again, but even that pain felt dull compared to the storm breaking inside my chest. He would do anything? But what was left for him to offer? What would they force him to go through or give up?
• That man, apparently named Marcello, stepped back into the shadows behind the Don, but I saw the subtle smirk on his lips, which made my blood boil. He was enjoying this. Just as much as the Don.
• When he suddenly looked in my direction, my breath hitched, because it felt like our eyes met. He could not possibly see me, could he?
• Through the shadows, the distance? Impossible.
• He looked straight at the place where I was hidden. Did he know? Had he known from the moment he met me in front of the building? No.
• The blood in my veins turned to ice as I stepped back in an attempt to hide myself more in the shadows. But if he knew that I was there, then he surely would have reacted earlier. He would already have called the guards on me… Or not?
• In my peripheral vision, I could see the smile on the Don’s face widen even more, pulling my attention back to him. I would never forget that smile. The way his teeth caught the light, and it curved like a blade.
• “Your daughter,” he said.
• His what now?! The words hit harder than a gunshot. My entire body went still. My brain couldn’t catch up with the sudden, brutal shift of the moment. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t blink.
• All I could do was listen.
• He leaned forward, both hands braced on his cane as he lowered his voice into something more intimate—more cruel. His following words were barely audible, but I held my breath, trying my best not to miss a single one.
• “Promise your daughter to us, more precisely, to my son, Blaine. She will be his bride. And just like that… your debt vanishes.”
• Everything stopped.
• The sound of my heart pounding drowned out the rest of the world. I felt the room fall away, piece by piece, until all that remained was the ringing in my ears.
• Me? Why did they want me?
• It made no sense. I was nobody with nothing to offer. I was seventeen. Still technically a child. Why would someone like the Mafia’s Don’s son want me?
• I tried to make sense of it, to hold onto some thread of logic, but the room spun beneath me. Looking at my father didn’t help me to understand the situation. His head had dropped again, his whole body shaking. He didn’t know what to do about the situation either.
• He wouldn’t say yes. I could see it already in the way he bit his lips and clutched his fists. He wouldn’t offer me out —not even now. Because some lines you don’t cross.
• Which meant I had to.
• Before the Don changed his mind, or before my father made it worse and I lost whatever leverage I still had.
• “Wh-why...?” my father stammered, blinking wildly, voice cracking.
• The Don’s face hardened; from one second to the next, the smile was gone. The mask he was wearing now was even worse; never before had I seen such darkness and viciousness in an expression. “Or,” he said, letting the silence hang for a breath, “refuse. And I’ll beat you until there’s not a bone left unbroken.”
• My father froze. Every part of him locked up like his body couldn’t handle the choice being laid in front of him. And in that moment, I knew.
• I felt it in my gut—that quiet, awful certainty. If I stayed hidden and waited for him to speak, it would spiral out of control. The Don would lose patience. My father would try to barter. They would hurt him more. They would kill him. And maybe me, too. Or worse—maybe they’d offer me to someone else.
• Before I could overthink it, I stepped out. And in that instant, every eye in the room turned to me.
• The light caught me immediately, exposing every raw inch of me. I walked slowly, letting each footstep echo, not allowing them to see how badly I was shaking.
• I didn’t look at my father or the Don. For some reason, I felt that it was important to tell him instead of the Don. No idea why, but I looked only at him—Marcello and the unreadable look in his eyes.
• “I’ll do it,” I said.
• The Don’s expression shifted back to that creepy smile. My father stared at me as if I were a ghost. And Marcello watched me with something unreadable in his gaze. Not shock. Not victory. Something else I couldn't place.
• The factory had gone quiet. Even my father could barely form the shape of my name.
• I stood taller. Or at least tried to.
• “I’ll do it,” I repeated, my gaze flickering to the Don this time. “I’ll marry him. Just stop hurting my father.”