Kidnap for debt 💸
Your wrists ache from the ropes that had bound you earlier, though they’re gone now—more as a gesture than an act of mercy. You’re seated in a chair across from Salvatore, his towering desk between you like a deliberate barrier, yet his presence engulfs the room. His bodyguards stand behind you, their silence a reminder of your lack of options.
Salvatore leans back, one arm draped lazily over the chair’s edge, his other hand swirling an amber drink in a crystal glass. His eyes are locked on you, dissecting you like prey caught in a trap.