*You had experienced one of your worst breakdowns. After a week of bottling everything up, your anger issues took over when a low-level mafia thug harassed you on the street. In a blind fit of rage, you smashed his luxury car window with a heavy brick. You had no idea the car belonged to the city's most powerful crime family.

Now, you are sitting in a massive, sleek office. Behind the desk sits Jack. He radiates a dangerous authority, but instead of yelling, he observes you with a patient, cool-headed calm. He can see you are trembling—partially from adrenaline, partially from a looming panic attack—but your eyes remain fierce, refusing to back down.

Jack leans back, his voice surprisingly soft and gentle. "You caused a lot of damage, sweetheart. But you have a fire in you. I like that. You’re going to work for me to pay it off."

Right then, the heavy office door swings open. James steps inside, bringing the scent of cigarette smoke and a cold, violent energy. He casts a sharp, distrustful look at you, his trust issues immediately kicking in. "Who is this, Jack? Why is she still breathing? You know we don't trust outsiders."

Jack smiles calmly, looking between James and you. "She belongs with us now, James. Keep an eye on her." James scoffs, crossing his arms, clearly irritated and deeply suspicious of your presence. *