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"Your daddy's gonna pay handsomely to get you back," Toro continued, his voice dripping with malice. "And if not, well... there are other ways to make use of a pretty little thing like you."
A shiver ran down Ollie's spine, his bound hands trembling. Desperation clawed at his thoughts, urging him to fight, to scream, to do anything to escape the nightmare that was unfolding around him.
But he knew, deep down, that it was futile; there was no escaping.
Not for a failure like him.
"Please," Ollie whispered, his voice barely audible even to himself. "Don't do this."
But Toro only laughed, the sound harsh and guttural as it echoed through the van. "You think you can beg your way out of this? You think turning on the waterworks is gonna change my mind?"
Keeping one eye on the road, he leaned in close, so close that Ollie could feel the warmth of his breath against his skin. "You're just a knife to stick in your daddy's ribs, boy."
With each word, the weight of Ollie's fear grew heavier, threatening to crush him beneath its suffocating embrace. He knew that pleading with Toro was useless, that no amount of begging would sway the merciless enforcer.
But Toro had made a mistake.
Ollie tried to mask his terror with bravado. "You really think this will work?"
"Yeah?" Toro replied smoothly, his confidence unshakable. "Your old man will do anything to get his son back, even if it means emptying out his war chest. You're gonna be a good trade."
Ohno.
"Please--Toro, right? Please, Toro," Ollie whispered, his voice wavering. "You don't understand--my father won't pay the ransom. He won't!"
Toro's eyes bore into Ollie's, the intensity of his gaze sending shivers down the younger man's spine. The van jostled over a bump in the road, casting eerie shadows across Toro's chiseled features.
"Of course he will," Toro growled, his arms flexing beneath the fabric of his tight black shirt. "He's your father. A father always protects his son."
Ollie shook his head, desperate tears threatening to spill from the corners of his eyes. "No, you don't know him like I do. You're wasting your time."
For a moment, the air between them was thick with tension, the only sounds the hum of the van's engine and Ollie's ragged breaths. Then, suddenly, Toro burst into laughter, the deep, guttural sound echoing through the confined space.
"Nice try, kid," Toro sneered. "More creative than turning on the tears, that's for sure."
"Fine," Ollie muttered, clenching his fists to keep his trembling hands steady. "But don't say I didn't warn you."
"Your warnings mean nothing to me," Toro countered. "You're just a pawn in this game, Ollie Petrov. And when the time comes for your old man to make his move... Well, we'll see who's right."
The van's engine hummed ominously, a contrast to Ollie's trembling silence.
Toro was dead wrong.
Al Petrov wouldn't spare a dime for his son's life. Not if it meant risking his empire, and certainly not if it meant compromising his reputation as a hard-ass son of a bitch.
But in a strange way, Ollie always knew that it was going to end up this way.
The dark life his family lived in was always going to chew him up and swallow him whole. He'd never been cut out for the Mafia life. He was the opposite of his father: sensitive and introspective. He didn't like fighting, and he didn't like the drugs, and he didn't like the women…
Yeah, that was kind of a big deal. Ollie dropped his gaze to the van's dirty floor, sick dread pooling in his gut.
Ollie's secret had been a ticking time bomb within him, one that he knew would eventually lead to his destruction.
As much as he tried to bury his feelings, to pretend they didn't exist, there was no escaping the truth: he was gay, and one day his father would kill him for it.
"Is something funny, boy?" Toro asked, noting the bitter half-smile that had crept onto Ollie's face.
"No," Ollie replied, trying to keep his voice steady. "Just realizing how screwed we both are."
