Tina Branston pushed through the back door of the apartment with her hip, arms full of greasy takeout bags and the lingering smell of fryer oil clinging to her jacket like a bad reputation. The kitchen light buzzed overhead, weak and yellow, throwing long shadows across the cracked linoleum. She expected the usual: her father slumped at the table nursing a warm beer, her mother pretending not to notice, the TV droning some cop show nobody was really watching.
What she got instead was silence so thick it felt like someone had sucked all the air out of the room.
Her father sat ramrod straight for once, hands folded on the table like he was about to lead grace. No beer. No TV. Just him, staring at a single sheet of paper that looked far too clean and official to belong in their crumbling two-bedroom walk-up.
Tina dropped the bags on the counter. "What's with the funeral vibes?"
Her mother wouldn't meet her eyes. She stood by the sink, fingers twisting the dish towel until the fabric screamed.
"Sit," her father said. Not a request. A command.
Tina's stomach did a slow, ugly flip. She stayed standing. "I'm good. What's that?"
He slid the paper toward her an inch. Black ink, crisp lines, the kind of document that cost money to print. At the top, in bold: AGREEMENT OF SETTLEMENT AND CONSIDERATION
She didn't need to read further. The name at the bottom jumped out like a slap.
Victor Kane.
The room tilted. Tina gripped the back of a chair so hard her knuckles bleached white. "You didn't."
"We had no choice," her father said, voice flat, like he'd rehearsed it. "The construction loans… the interest… it snowballed. Kane's people came by three times last month. Last time they brought baseball bats. They gave us an ultimatum."
Tina's laugh came out sharp and ugly. "And your genius solution was to sell me?"
"Not sell." Her father winced at the word, but didn't deny it. "An arrangement. Marriage. The debt vanishes. Everything goes back to zero. You live in his world. Safe. Taken care of. Better than this."
"Better than this?" She swept her arm around the kitchen, the peeling wallpaper, the fridge that rattled like it was dying. "You think marrying a man who sends goons with baseball bats is an upgrade?"
Her mother finally spoke, voice trembling. "He's powerful, Tina. Connected. He can protect us. Protect you."
"Protect me?" Tina's chest burned. "From what? From having a father who'd sign his daughter away like a used car?"
The paper sat between them like a loaded gun. She stared at the signature line. There it was. Her father's shaky scrawl. Done. Final. No take-backs.
She felt something crack inside her chest, hot and bright and furious. Not sadness. Not yet. Rage. Pure, electric, beautiful rage.
"You signed it," she whispered.
Her father looked away. "It was the only way."
Tina's hand moved before her brain caught up. She snatched the paper, crumpled it into a tight, vicious ball, and hurled it at the wall. It bounced once and rolled under the fridge like it knew it wasn't welcome.
"I'm not a bargaining chip," she said, voice low, dangerous. "I'm not your get-out-of-debt card. I'm your daughter."
Her father's jaw worked. "You think I wanted this? You think I enjoy it? I did what I had to."
"No." She stepped closer, eyes blazing. "You did what was easy. You sold me so you wouldn't have to face the consequences of your own shitty choices."
Silence again. Heavier this time.
Her mother reached out, tentative. "Tina, honey—"
"Don't." Tina jerked back. "Don't 'honey' me. You let him do this."
She turned on her heel, stormed to her room, slammed the door so hard the cheap frame rattled. Inside, she stood with her back against the wood, breathing like she'd run a marathon. The posters on her wall—bands she'd never see live, cities she'd never visit—mocked her.
She slid down to the floor, knees to chest, and let the tears come. Hot. Angry. Silent.
But beneath the tears something else stirred. Something sharp and alive.
A plan.
A promise.
She wasn't going to be anyone's bride. Not Victor Kane's. Not anybody's.
She was going to run.
And when she ran, she was going to run so far, so fast, that even a man like Victor Kane would never catch up.
(At least, that's what she told herself in the dark.)
The city outside her window glittered, cold and endless and full of shadows.
Somewhere out there, Victor Kane was already smiling.
Because the game?
It had just begun.