Owned by Mr. Lan

Prologue

Xiao Zhan

No one expects their nightmares to haunt them in real life. No one ever plans for the worst to happen. And no one believes that 'the worst' could ever happen to them.

We're on the run because my father owes a very dangerous man a lot of money. Money we don't have. Our house was shot up with what felt like a thousand bullets last night and my heart still pounds voraciously when I remember that they were meant for us.

We barely escaped with anything. We have the clothes on our backs and what we managed to shove into a suitcase.

"Zhan, please," my father begs me to look at him but I can't.

How does he expect me to be okay with everything that's happened? We're in a rundown motel on the outskirts of town. We ditched our car a few miles back and grabbed a taxi so they couldn't track us.

"Please talk to me."

"What do you want me to say Dad? You sacrificed everything. Our home. Your shop. Us! We have nothing. They took everything. Everything, Dad. How did you get involved with Wang Yibo?" I drop my head into my hands to try to think of a plan. Nothing will get done if I leave it up to my dad. "He is the mafia. The worst of the worst. You know he runs the city. He owns us now."

"He owns me Zhan. Me. You're free."

"I'm not leaving you!" I'm appalled he would even think that. "Every problem has a solution. We need to think of it."

"He won't stop until I'm dead." Dad reaches for my hand from where he sits on the twin-size bed. "No one fucks over Lan. The men who shot up our home? Those are his jockeys but now that I'm on the run, he'll find me and kill me. That's what he does Zhan."

My eyes water as the horror of his words freeze the blood in my veins. "No. I refuse to believe that." I kneel on the floor and squeeze his hands in mine. "Why would you do it?" The tears begin to drip, searing down my cheek.

"The shop wasn't doing well. We were drowning."

I rear back as if I've been slapped. "What are you talking about? We were fine."

He rips his hands from mine. "No, we weren't. We haven't been fine for a long time. No one brings their cars to shops like mine, not anymore, not in today's world. We were barely making the mortgage payment on the house, so I went to the one man I knew would save us."

"Dad." I hang my head in disappointment.

He hits his chest with his hand and raises his voice. "I did what I had to do to protect my own. That money saved the business and our home, fed us and gave us hot water. It saved us, but when it was time to pay, I only had a third of what he needed."

"How much?"

"Zhan, please don't make this harder than it is."

"How. Much?" I bite.

"Two hundred thousand dollars," he whispers, unable to look me in the eyes.

I fall backward, my back hitting the edge of the second bed in the room. I probably shouldn't sit on the floor. The red carpet is old and matted and covered in questionable stains. I rub a hand over my mouth, staring at the nicotine - yellowed wallpaper peeling from the walls.

"I didn't want to tell you. I didn't want you to worry because I know you would have tried to help -"

"Yes, I would have tried to help!" I yell, getting to my feet. "I would have gotten a job -"

He stands too, towering over me. "And I didn't want that. I wanted you to focus on school, your friends or dating. Whatever you kids are doing these days. Taking care of our family is on me. Not you."