Livia stepped out of the store and into the buzzing walkway, sunlight hitting her like a freaking accusation. Another failure. Another door closed in her face. She had walked into over a dozen places today—boutiques, cafés, a damn pet store even—yet none had so much as glanced at her resume. Most barely let her finish a sentence before giving her that tired, pitiful smile. Yes...she was pitiful.
"We're not hiring at the moment."
"We'll keep your CV on file."
Bullshit. Nobody's keeping anything.
Her feet ached. Her throat was dry. Her stomach growled from being empty for so long. And yet she kept walking, like if she stopped, everything else—her sanity, her mother, the last bits of hope—would collapse with her. Her fingers clutched the frayed strap of her worn bag as if it was the only thing tethering her to the world.
I had a job, she reminded herself bitterly. Until that bastard dragged me into his marble prison of an office and crowned me queen of coffee… then fired me like I spilled poison instead of cream.
Her jaw clenched.
Three days. Three freaking days. That has to be some kind of world record for shortest employment.
"The pay was good though... except you didn't stick around long enough to receive it." Her inner voice was always there—sarcastic, brutal, and always so damn accurate.
She scoffed out loud. The pay was good. He was a millionaire—or billionaire maybe—but God forbid his coffee didn't taste like his overtwisted soul. Who even drinks cold coffee with cheese in it? Was he trying to murder his taste buds?
"There's too much sugar."
"Does this burnt nonsense look like coffee to you?"
"Does this look like it has enough cheese?"
All that crap. All of it—bullshit.
She was so wrapped in her bitter thoughts, retracing every humiliating second in that mansion, that she didn't notice where her legs were taking her. She barely realized when she was weaving through a sea of people, nor did she notice the crowd thinning, the street narrowing, until suddenly she was alone on an oddly quiet path,her body disconnected from her surroundings.
Then she felt it—something cold pressing against the back of her neck.
She froze.
Seriously? What now? This day couldn't get any worse . Without thinking, she lashed out, slamming her foot back into whoever was behind her. The person groaned in pain as she spun around, wrapped her bag's strap around his arm, and yanked—hard. He toppled forward, the knife flying from his hand with a metallic clatter.
He hit the ground with a thud, groaning in pain. Livia glanced down. Her bag strap was torn. Great. Just great. But no time to dwell on it—she bolted.
She didn't get far.
Two bulky men stepped out of nowhere, blocking her path like boulders. Good thing she picked up the fallen guy's knife—though she had zero plans to fight, like hell could she? The knife was just for show. Defense.
One of the men, with a crooked smirk and arms folded across his chest, eyed her with amusement.
"Who knew that you'd be a tough one" he said with a nasty chuckle
"What do you want" Livia demanded, her voice steady despite the panic clawing at her ribs.
She literally had nothing to give. No money. No valuables. Not even self-respect.
Maybe they were after her job resume. Blame her conscience for being absolutely sarcastic in every situation.
"Ohh nobody said anything about wanting something", the second man, ink crawling up his arms in the form of tattoos, shrugged lazily.
The guy she'd knocked down—apparently named Chap—caught up, that same lazy grin on his face. Okay, this was bad. If they weren't up for negotiation… then what did they want?
"Can't believe we were ordered to capture a tigress.Too bad you're supposed to be delivered untouched" Chap said a glint in his eyes. Was he on those?
"Don't even think about it, Chap," the bulky man with no tattoos snapped. "It's your fault she got the jump on you. Weak-ass motherf—"
"Man, I didn't even see it coming. She looked harmless." Chap smirked. "Still does."
"Do not come any closer, or I'll hurt you," Livia warned, holding the knife out in front of her when she sensed them coming closer.
They laughed.
"Missy," the one with the tattoos sneered, "I bet you've never even hurt a fly. Throwing down Chap like a sac of potatoes earlier doesn't mean you're dangerous."
"No nonsense Burt, it's not funny" Chap threw him a reply
Burt, the man with the tattoos, reached for something—and then pulled a gun from the back of his waistband.
Her eyes widened with shock, but she quickly masked it. Too slow.
He saw it.
And smiled.
"Ohh, it's harmless," Burt said with a cold grin. "Now come with us and don't make a fuss, you hear me? Or I won't waste a moment putting a bullet through your skull."
Livia stood there, her heart hammering in her chest. She didn't know what came over her, but before she could fully process her thoughts, she ran straight at Burt, throwing herself into him with everything she had. The momentum sent both of them tumbling to the ground.
"See? I told you. She looks docile, but you never even know her next step," Chap said, hurrying over to help Burt. "Stop standing there like an idiot, Franco, and help."
Franco, the third man, hesitated before he walked over, pulling his gun back. He delivered a harsh blow to the back of Livia's head, the sharp crack ringing in the air.
The world spun, and her knees buckled. She collapsed into unconsciousness.
Burt and Chap stared at Franco in silence, exchanging a glance. They both knew Franco had made a grave mistake, but there was no turning back now.
"What?" Franco muttered, clearly unfazed. "Boss said untouched, but he'll understand. We can't bring her in with her eyes open. Look at what she did to you two in just a few minutes.". He shook his head and used his other hand to peel the unconscious girl off Burt's body.
A van pulled closer, and they threw Livia into the back seat like she weighed nothing. The door slammed shut behind her, and the van drove away as quietly as it had arrived.