The morning sun dragged itself over the rooftops, weak and hazy, painting the streets in a tired yellow. Mia walked with her arms wrapped tightly around herself. Her steps were slow, stiff, her body aching from the hard floor she'd slept on. She didn't know where she was heading, only that she couldn't stop. If she stopped, the fear would catch up to her.
The city looked bigger in the daylight. Cars rushed past, horns blaring. The smell of roasted corn mixed with the stench of open gutters. Traders shouted over one another, waving goods in the air, chasing customers that hardly looked their way.
Mia kept her head down. She had no money, no family, and nothing in her stomach but the pain of hunger. She wanted to cry, but tears never helped. She had learned that long ago.
A few streets away, a black car idled near the curb. Its windows were tinted dark, but inside, Luca sat watching. His arm rested lazily on the door, a cigarette burning slowly between his fingers. His gaze didn't move from the small figure weaving through the crowd.
The driver glanced at him, then back at the girl. She was thin, dirty, her dress torn at the hem. She looked like she hadn't eaten in days. Something twisted in the driver's chest, something he rarely felt.
"She won't last out here," the man said quietly.
Luca took a drag from his cigarette and exhaled slowly. His lips curved, not in amusement but in something colder.
"She doesn't need to last," he muttered. "She just needs to belong."
The driver shut his mouth. He'd seen Luca like this before — focused, calculating. And when Luca fixed his eyes on someone, it never ended well.
---
By afternoon, the sun was merciless. The heat clung to the air, heavy and suffocating. Mia crouched at a street corner, her hands stretched out to strangers hurrying past.
"Please," she whispered. Her voice was hoarse, barely louder than the traffic. She looked at faces, searching for kindness, but most turned away. Some looked straight through her as though she didn't exist.
A man dropped a half-chewed piece of bread on the ground near her feet. She snatched it up quickly, brushing off the dust before taking a bite. The taste didn't matter. Hunger didn't care.
She was still chewing when the sound of an engine drew her attention. A sleek car pulled up close, too close. Its door opened with a soft click.
Mia froze.
From the car stepped a tall man in a fitted black suit. He didn't look like the traders or the tired workers that filled the street. He looked out of place, too clean, too sharp, and far too dangerous.
Luca.
His eyes found hers immediately, and Mia felt her chest tighten. He didn't speak. He didn't have to. The way he looked at her was enough to make her heart pound.
The driver, still behind the wheel, gripped it tighter. He knew what that look meant.
Mia forced herself to raise her hand again. "Please… do you have some change?"
Her voice was soft, almost swallowed by the street noise, but Luca heard it. His mouth twitched, not quite a smile.
"I don't give change," he said. His voice was calm, smooth, yet heavy enough to cut through the air.
Mia's hand trembled, but she didn't drop it. "Then… what do you give?"
The corner of his mouth lifted, a smile of amusement crossing his face. He leaned closer, just enough for her to hear him clearly.
"You," he said.
The word hit harder than a slap. Mia blinked, shaking her head as though she'd misheard. "No… I don't want trouble. I just need food. Please."
Her voice cracked at the last word, her eyes filling, though she fought to hold the tears back.
Luca didn't move. His stare stayed locked on her, unblinking. "Survival isn't free," he said. "You want to live? You pay the price."
"I don't have anything." Her voice shook. "Nothing."
"That's where you're wrong," Luca replied softly. He straightened, slipping his hands into his pockets. "Everyone has something. You'll learn."
The driver looked away, jaw clenched. He hated this part — the beginning, when the prey realized the cage was closing.
Mia drew in a shaky breath. For a moment, fear pressed her to the ground, heavy and crushing. But then something else stirred inside her — stubbornness, the same spark that had pushed her to run, to survive another night.
She lifted her chin, just slightly. "I won't belong to you."
The words surprised even her. Her voice trembled, but the defiance was clear.
For the first time, Luca laughed. It was a low sound, almost hidden, but it made her skin prickle. "You think you get to choose?" he asked.
Mia's hands balled into fists at her sides. "I don't care who you are. You can't own me."
The street carried on around them. Cars passed, people walked, traders shouted, but in that small corner, it felt like the world had gone silent.
Luca's eyes narrowed, and for a moment, the smirk vanished. What he saw in her wasn't just fear. There was something else. Something that made him pause.
Then, slowly, the smirk returned. "We'll see," he murmured.
He turned, stepping back into the car without another word. The door shut, and the engine roared back to life. Within seconds, the black car was gone, swallowed by traffic.
Mia stood frozen, her heart hammering, her breath shallow. She didn't know what had just happened, only that her life had just crossed into something darker than she ever wanted to know.
But as she pressed her arms tight around herself and turned back to the crowd, one thought burned in her mind: she wasn't ready to give up. Not yet.