OWNED BY A MONSTER

Chapter 1: The Price of a Life

The first thing Ira noticed was the silence.

Not the peaceful kind — but the heavy, suffocating silence that presses against your chest and makes it hard to breathe. The kind that tells you something is terribly wrong.

She sat on the edge of the worn-out sofa in their small living room, her fingers clenched tightly in her lap. The ceiling fan above creaked with every slow rotation, as if it too was tired of watching this family fall apart.

Her father hadn’t looked at her once since morning.

“Ira,” her mother whispered from the kitchen doorway, eyes red, voice trembling. “Come sit properly.”

Ira obeyed without a word.

She had learned long ago that obedience made things easier. For everyone.

The knock on the door came exactly at noon.

Three sharp knocks. No hesitation.

Her heart dropped.

Her father stood up immediately, wiping his sweaty palms on his trousers. The man who once taught her how to ride a bicycle now looked ten years older, his shoulders slumped under a weight no man should carry.

When he opened the door, the air in the room changed.

Two men stepped inside first — tall, dressed in black, their eyes cold and assessing. Bodyguards. They didn’t speak. They didn’t need to.

Then he entered.

Adrian Blackwood.

Ira had never seen him before, but she knew who he was. Everyone did. His name was whispered in fear, in rumors soaked with blood and power. A man who owned half the city without ever showing his face.

He was taller than she imagined. Dressed simply in black, no jewelry, no unnecessary extravagance. His presence alone demanded attention. His eyes — dark, emotionless — swept the room like a verdict.

When his gaze landed on Ira, she felt it.

Not desire.

Not curiosity.

Ownership.

“You’re late,” Adrian said calmly.

His voice wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be. It carried authority — the kind that didn’t ask to be obeyed.

“I–I apologize, Mr. Blackwood,” her father stammered. “Please… sit.”

Adrian didn’t sit.

He stood in the center of the room, hands in his pockets, as if the place disgusted him. His eyes flicked back to Ira.

“So,” he said. “This is her.”

Ira flinched at the way he spoke — like she was an object being inspected.

Her mother stepped forward, her voice shaking. “Please, sir… she’s just a girl. We’ll repay the money. Give us some time.”

Adrian’s eyes didn’t move from Ira.

“You already took my time,” he replied coldly. “And my patience.”

He finally looked at her father. “The debt is due. You don’t have the money. We discussed the alternative.”

Ira’s chest tightened.

Alternative.

Her father fell to his knees.

“I beg you,” he cried, hands shaking. “She’s my daughter.”

Silence.

Adrian slowly walked toward Ira.

Every step felt like a countdown.

He stopped in front of her, close enough that she could smell his cologne — sharp, expensive, dangerous. He leaned down slightly, meeting her eye level.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

Her throat felt dry. “I… Ira.”

“Age?”

“Nineteen.”

A pause.

Adrian straightened and turned back to her parents.

“I accept.”

Her mother let out a sob.

Ira’s world shattered in that moment.

“No,” she whispered. The word slipped out before she could stop it.

Adrian turned back slowly.

“No?” he repeated, his tone unreadable.