I woke up with a headache. I just had the worst dream. I raise my hand to fix my hair, but realized I was stuck.

My vision cleared up and I saw my hands tied to a chair. I struggled against the restraints. It was no use.

It wasn't a dream.

I looked around to see no one around. I saw the gun and a knife. What was he going to do to me?

I screamed as loud as I could. Hopefully someone else was in the huge house and heard me. They could save me.

The door slammed open and many footsteps were heard.

"It's a girl," I heard a voice say.

I looked around to see where the voice was coming from, but there was only darkness. There were footsteps approaching me and I looked around my surroundings, consciously.

They stepped into the light and I was faced with attractive boys. Each of them had the same tattoo on their right arm. I felt intimidated.

"W-Who are you guys?" I asked.

"Do you know who that is, Boss?" A boy asked my kidnapper. He was the boss of everything? Great, I'm dead.

He shook his head and snapped his gaze to mine. I gasped, feeling offended. He didn't know who I was.

"Do you?" He asked, harshly.

The boy slowly nodded his head. His light brown hair was so fluffy I wanted to touch it. My kidnapper stared at him, waiting for him to continue.

"She's our rivals daughter, Chanel Blanchett," he answered.

My eyes widened. They knew who I was. "What?" I asked. Maybe if I denied it, they wouldn't want to kill me because my kidnappers eyes gotten darker when he heard the news. "No! I'm not her, I don't know who that is."

My kidnapper looked at me then back at the boy, who looked about my age.

"It is! I swear, my friends are obsessed with her," he said.

Obsessed? He could've just said that.

"Really?" I asked. "What are their names?"

I froze. I blew my cover. "I mean, what? Who would be obsessed with me, I'm nobody, definitely not who you just said, that's not me," I quickly added.

I prayed he wouldn't hear my slip up.

"So, you're Richard Blanchett's daughter? How come I've never heard of you?" He asked. I flinched.

"No, you heard wrong, that's not me," I denied. "Fluffy Head over there is wrong," I said, signalling to the boy with the fluffy hair.

"Fluffy Head?" The light brown haired boy asked. He looked offended.

"Fluffy Head, that's so cute," another boy stifled a laugh. He had blonde hair and blue eyes. Suddenly I realized. It was the guy at the grocery store.

"Oh! It's you!" I exclaimed, delightedly. "Thank God, you remember me, I bought the ice cream, we'll never bought it, but you know," I said. Hopefully he would save me.

"If you would just . . ." I struggled against the ropes. "Get me out of here, that would be highly appreciated."

He smiled at me. Does that me he would help me?

"I will also call you with the number you gave-" I couldn't finish my sentence once I remembered I threw away the number. "Actually, I threw that away, but if you gave me another one, I would definitely keep it and call you."

Fluffy Head laughed. "She threw away your number, man."

Grocery store boy stared at Fluffy Head incredibly then looked at me in disappointment. He looked offended.

"No! I mean I didn't throw it out, I swear, just get me out of here and I'll get it," I complied. "I'll also buy all the ice cream stock from your store."

"You're not getting out, we could use you," another guy said. Rude.

"No! You can't use me, who do you think you are?" I asked.

He looked at me. His hair was in dreads and his skin was a light dark tone. "Grae Torrenzo," he introduced.

His jawline was sharp and his muscles shown through his right t-shirt. Were all the men in this gang attractive?

The room went silent. "Am I supposed to know that name because it's not ringing any bells?"

He looked furious at that and charged towards me. I flinched and tried to cover my hands over my face, but the rope stopped them. My arms hurt and we're becoming sore.

I opened my eyes and saw Fluffy Head hold Grae back. My wrists burned and I felt tears in my eyes.

"Can you please just loosen the ropes, they're hurting me?" I begged.

One of the men asked my kidnapper, "What should we do, boss?"

He swivelled towards the guys, his back to me. "Cut her hand and mail it to her father for a warning."

I inhaled dashingly. Cut off my what? No. I tried harder to get out of the chair, but my frail wrists were trapped. It was no use.

"No! Don't you dare, touch my perfect hand or I swear, I'll-"

"What will you do?" Grae cackled. "We have the upper hand here."

"No," I implored. I felt heated tears run down my cheeks. "Please, please, please."

I sobbed. I couldn't bear the pain of my hand being cut off and the blood and gore along with it. I wouldn't be able to take the suffering.

"Nothing you say will change my mind, it's either your hand or your head? Choice is yours," My kidnapper said.

He was rude and had no sympathy. He was merciless and psychotic. All I wanted to do was get out of here. I didn't want to be here any longer.

"Help!" I screamed. There must be other people who could hear me in the house. "I'm in a house full of psychos!"

"No one can hear you," he declared. "It's useless." He came down to my level and leaned closer. "Which is it, your hand or I kill you?"

"No! I'm not listening to you! You're not taking my hand or anything," I yelled at him. I didn't care who he was or what he was capable of doing. I would not let him do this to me. Especially for that excuse of a man, who's my father.

The kidnapper grabbed the knife which was on the table next to many torturing tools. My eyes scanned his every move cautiously. He couldn't be going through with this, could he?

He turned back towards the gang. His voice sounded demanding and dominating. "Go upstairs," he ordered.

"No," I blurted out in objection. I looked at Fluffy Head, he was the nicest out of all them so far. I pleaded with my eyes for him to stay.

"I won't say it again," my kidnapper snapped at them. They all turned towards the door to leave.

"Don't leave me alone with him," I whined. "Please, Fluffy Head?" I asked.

He turned around and looked at me with pity. Oh no, that is not a good thing. He dismissed me and went upstairs.

"Grocery store guy?" I asked, my voice cracked. He did the same thing. I felt so rejected and evicted.

"Grae, I know what I said insulted you, but I didn't mean it," I told him. I did mean it, but I'm trying to save my life here.

He halted and looked at me. "I would like to stay," he declared openly. He ran his large hand through his jet black hair.

I let out a breath of relief. "Thank you!"

"Just to watch your hand get cut off," he added. His face was serious. My heart dropped and face drained. I felt sick.

"Grae, go upstairs now," he nearly yelled. I had to abstain from covering my ears.

"Chill, sorry, Gio," he apologized. He didn't seem very apologetic, though.

There was one last person, and he just stood in the corner, not saying a word. He was quiet. He had dark brown hair, like mine, and that was when I realized who it was.

"Derrick?" I asked. My face was discoloured. "W-What are you doing here? Did he kidnap you too?"

Derrick was my brother. What was he doing here? I thought Elanese was picking him up from the airport. He was in Italy.

Derrick laughed. "Kidnap me? Chanel, are you that clueless?"

"What? I am not clueless," I defended. "You're an asshole."

"Now, stop standing around and help your sister from this psychotic monster," I announced. I was mentioning my kidnapper with the knife in the palm of his hand.

He hesitated for a split second, but that wasn't enough. "I can't help you, sorry," he said. He walked upstairs and acted like I'm not about to get maimed.

"What? You don't care?" I yelled after him. I knew he could hear me, but he decided to slam the door shut after him, and I slumped down in the chair. My head was down, and my throat became dry; it hurt to swallow.

My kidnapper approached me tauntingly. He twirled the sterling silver knife in his hand as he spoke darkly, "Now where were we?"

I looked up at him with tears in my eyes. I was so close to falling asunder again.

"Please don't cut off my hand," I gushed, exhausted. My voice came just above a whisper. I was sure he couldn't hear me.

And I don't think he did because he placed the knife between my hand and the rope, and I felt the cold metal against my exposed skin. My tongue got caught in the back of my throat, and my breath hitched when he moved the hair from in front of my sweaty face.

I moved my head away from his hand and bursted into tears again. I was going to die. I would bleed out.

"Please," I cried. "Please, I beg you."

He seemed to ignore me. His gaze never leaving mine. He took in my forlorn appearance, his heart lurched. Anxiety gnawed at my stomach.

"This will only hurt a little bit," he uttered. He was lying. It would hurt way more than that, he'll be cutting off my fucking hand.

I still tried to thrash away from him, away from the sharp edge, but once again, I was trapped.

I squeezed my eyes shut and waited for the horrible pain. There was nothing I could do. I wasn't robust enough to fight against it.

I waited for my hand to be segregated from my arm in any second now. I felt uneasy with the description in my mind.

I suddenly didn't feel the blade on my wrist anymore and snapped my eyes open. What was he going to do, now?

"It won't be worth it," he claimed. He was talking to no one in particular. "I can just send him a video of you in this state." He was stating different ideas. "Maybe even break a bone?"

I gasped. I let out a strangled whimper, "No." I pictured the unbearable pain in my head at his words. It was agonizing to even imagine. "You can't do that."

I swallowed greedily. My heart was going to burst out of my chest from how hard it was beating.

"And why not, princess? Who's going to stop me? It's already been proven that your family doesn't care much about you," he lashed out. His eyes glinted deviously.

He gaped at me for what felt like an extent period of time, just eyeing my state before unclenching his jaw and finally speaking. "It would for sure be a waste to kill you," he let out. "You're probably worth millions."

"I don't even like my father," I confessed. Although it probably won't help me in any situation. It was worth a try.

He scowled at me. He waited for me to continue to elaborate.

"Please, I'll help you with whatever you want to get back at him, but you have to promise you won't hurt me," I told him.

"Whatever I want?" He asked. His eyes held mischief. His forehead furrowed, and his full lips pulled up into a grimace.

I swallowed the wad in my throat. "Anything," I assured. My voice cracker at the simple word. What could he possibly make me do? That was worse than this.

After a sickening juncture of silence, he finally opened this mouth and uttered four words, making the breath leave my lungs.

"Join my gang, princess."