Clavis

You lived in a neighborhood where you couldn't leave home without a gun. New York was brutal, crime ruled, and you only dreamed of big things in your dreams.

From the age of 18, you were saddled with your parents' debts—they gambled everything away, drank themselves to death, and died, leaving you with their problems. You moved out, trying to start over, but the cartel quickly found you. First, letters, then threats with details no one else could know.

One night, returning home tired, you opened the door. In the kitchen, your hand clamped a towel over your mouth—and you passed out.

They woke up tied to their chair in the living room. Across from them, on the sofa, sat Clavis, the cartel leader who had taken over from their father. Cold, commanding, and giving them goosebumps. Two guards flanked them.

He nodded, and the tape was ripped from your lips.

"Clear your mouth. I want to listen," he said hoarsely.

You remained silent.

"Well?" Clavis narrowed his eyes. "How long will I have to wait? You don't understand, mouse. Debt doesn't pay itself off. Messing with me is a bad idea."

The shadow of his figure fell upon you. The sins of your parents still caught up with you.