Welcome to Hell
Sofia's POV
I threw the crystal lamp at his head.
The man ducked just in time, and the expensive lamp exploded against the wall behind him, sending sparkling pieces everywhere.
"Well, that was dramatic," he said, brushing glass off his shoulder. "Feel better?"
"Stay away from me!" I grabbed the nearest thing I could find - a heavy book from the nightstand - and hurled it at him too.
He caught it easily with one hand. "Pride and Prejudice. Good choice. Though I prefer the part where Elizabeth stands up to Darcy."
"I don't care what you prefer! Let me go home!"
The man stepped into the light, and I got my first clear look at him. He was the one with calculating eyes from the bookstore - the leader of the group. His dark hair was perfectly styled, and he moved like someone who was used to being in control.
"My name is Cassian," he said calmly, like we were meeting at a coffee shop instead of in my prison cell. "And going home isn't an option right now."
"Why not? I told you already - I don't have any money!"
"Sit down, Sofia. We need to talk."
"I'm not sitting anywhere. I want to leave. NOW."
Cassian sighed and pulled out his phone. He pressed a button, and within seconds, the other three men from the bookstore appeared in my doorway.
"Gentlemen," Cassian said, "our guest is being difficult."
The big one with kind eyes shook his head. "Rafe Santos," he said, introducing himself to me. "And you're making this harder than it needs to be."
"I don't care if I'm being difficult! You kidnapped me!"
The charming one flashed that dangerous smile. "Luca Romano. And technically, we rescued you."
"Rescued me? From what?"
"From the people who would have killed you," the cold one said quietly. "Nikos Petrov."
My legs suddenly felt weak. "Killed me? Why would anyone want to kill me?"
"Because," Cassian said, "your father made some very dangerous enemies before he died."
I sank onto the edge of the bed, my anger replaced by confusion and fear. "I don't understand. Dad worked construction. He fixed buildings and came home tired. He wasn't involved with dangerous people."
The four men exchanged looks, like they were having a conversation without words.
"Sofia," Rafe said gently, "your father wasn't a construction worker. He was a thief."
"That's a lie."
"He worked for various criminal organizations," Luca added. "Breaking into places, stealing things, gathering information."
"Stop lying to me!"
"He was good at it too," Nikos said coldly. "Until he got greedy and decided to keep something that didn't belong to him."
I stood up again, my hands balled into fists. "My father was a good man. He raised me by himself after my mother died. He worked hard to give me a decent life. He would never steal anything!"
"Then explain this," Cassian said, pulling out his phone again. He showed me a photo, and my world tilted sideways.
It was definitely my father. He was younger in the picture, maybe by ten years, but it was unmistakably Vincent Martinez. He was standing in what looked like an office, holding a manila envelope. His face was turned toward the camera, and his expression was guilty and scared.
"This was taken six years ago," Cassian explained. "Your father was hired to steal financial records from a rival organization. Simple job. Get in, get the files, get out."
I stared at the photo, my mind struggling to make sense of it. "Even if this is real, stealing files isn't... I mean, it's not that bad, right?"
"It would have been fine," Luca said, "if he'd actually delivered what he stole."
"What do you mean?"
Rafe stepped closer. "Vincent was supposed to bring us those financial records. Instead, he brought us fake copies and kept the real ones for himself."
"Why would he do that?"
"Because," Nikos said, "the real files contained information worth millions of dollars. Bank account numbers, passwords, the locations of hidden money."
My head was spinning. "You're saying my father was blackmailing people?"
"We're saying your father disappeared with information that belongs to us," Cassian corrected. "Information that could destroy several very powerful families if it fell into the wrong hands."
I laughed, but it came out sounding hysterical. "This is insane. If my dad had millions of dollars worth of information, don't you think I'd know about it? Don't you think my life would be different? I'm about to lose my bookstore because I can't pay rent!"
"That's what makes this so frustrating," Luca said. "Vincent hid those files somewhere, and then he had the nerve to die before telling anyone where they were."
"So now," Rafe continued, "everyone who wants those files is looking for the next best thing."
"Which is you," Nikos finished.
The room was quiet for a moment as I tried to process everything they'd told me. My father, a thief. Stolen files worth millions. Dangerous enemies who wanted me dead.
"I don't know anything about any files," I said quietly. "Dad never told me about his work. He never brought anything home except dirty clothes and tired complaints about his boss."
"We believe you," Cassian said. "But other people don't."
"What other people?"
"The Volkov family, for starters. They've put a price on your head - dead or alive."
"The Chen Syndicate wants to question you," Rafe added grimly. "Their questioning methods usually involve pain."
"And the Moretti organization," Luca said, "well, let's just say they have a personal interest in getting those files back."
I felt sick to my stomach. "So you kidnapped me to protect me?"
"We kidnapped you," Nikos said bluntly, "because we want those files too. But unlike the others, we need you alive to find them."
"I told you, I don't know where any files are!"
"Maybe not consciously," Cassian said. "But your father was smart. If he hid something valuable, he would have left clues. Clues that would make sense to you but no one else."
"Like what?"
"That's what we're going to figure out together."
I stood up and walked to the locked door, pressing my forehead against the cool wood. "How long are you planning to keep me here?"
"Until we find what we're looking for," Cassian said. "Or until the people hunting you give up."
"And if they don't give up?"
The silence that followed was answer enough.
I turned around to face them. "So my choices are stay here as your prisoner, or go home and get killed by your enemies?"
"That's about right," Rafe said apologetically.
"Some choice."
"We'll take good care of you," Luca promised. "Good food, books to read, anything you need to be comfortable."
"Except freedom."
"Except freedom," Nikos agreed.
I slumped against the door, feeling more hopeless than I'd ever felt in my life. "I want to see proof."
"Proof of what?" Cassian asked.
"Proof that my father really stole something from you. Real proof, not just a photo that could be fake."
Cassian reached into his jacket and pulled out a folder. He opened it and handed me a photograph that made my blood freeze in my veins.
"This," he said quietly, "is what your father stole."