The Price Of Love

Chapter 5

I can't explain things properly 😭 hope this helps

*****************************************

Jay's POV

I gasp away, sitting upright and looking around frantically.

I'm in an unfamiliar room, lying on an unfamiliar bed.

The room is bare apart from the three dark wooden doors; one is in the left corner of the room, while the other two are side by side on the small wall on the right of the room.

Standing up immediately, I look down, seeing I'm in the same clothes as yesterday. Or earlier. I have no clue how much time has passed.

My whole face hurts, probably from the multiple hits I took. I stare at the three doors, trying to figure out which one I should try first.

I go to the one in the corner, figuring the bathroom and closet would be next to each other. Sure enough, when I open it, it leads out of the room.

Opposite me is another door. I step out and into a hallway. Right down the hallway is another door. At the end of the hallway, there's a little window that looks out on trees in the distance.

Knowing the door in front of me and the one down the hall is most likely spare bedrooms or something, I slowly walk to the left.

A few steps later, I'm walking into an open living room and kitchen. To the left is the kitchen, and to the right is a dining table, with six wooden chairs pushes neatly into it. The kitchen has an island, that performs like a wall to the living room behind it. Two couches and a tv.

I spot the door in the far corner but don't run to it. My eyes land on the file on the kitchen island.

Walking over, a grab it, reading the title.

The Robinson Family.

Narrowing my eyes in confusion, skimming through the first page.

The Robinson family, an uprising crime family that Issac predicts will be a problem in a few years. He wants to take them out before they get too powerful.

I realise as I read that this is my job assignment.

I toss the file on the table, running my hands through my hair as I try to figure out what the fuck to do, but my mind comes up blank.

I then hear the sound of a phone ringing.

My attention goes to the kitchen table, where I notice my phone is. Rushing over, I pick it up, seeing the fucking devil himself ringing me.

"What the fuck is this?!" I yell, unable to stop myself. I'm confused, worried, pissed- fucking everything.

"You're new house. Did you read your job assignment?" He asks casually, and I turn and glare at the file.

"I'm serious Issac. What the fuck are you doing?" I scowl, and he laughs. "Issac?" He repeats, sounding amused.

"Where are the triplets?" I ask immediately. "Oh, don't you worry about them," He says, and I scowl. "Please!" I yell, desperate.

He goes silent for a few seconds, and I begin to think the fucker hung up on me. "A military boarding school" He answers. I curse. "Where?"

"Aren't you curious where you are?" Issac chuckles. "Where are they?" I yell, and he sighs. "Missouri".

I take a deep breath, screwing my eyes shut tight. "And where am I?" I mutter, my grip on the phone tightening as I await his answer.

"Wisconsin," He says, sounding to be smiling. "Fuck!" I yell, running my free hand through my hair.

I'm hundreds of miles from home, on my own, and knowing Issac, it's only going to get worse.

"Let me speak to them" I order, knowing if I ask to see them he'd laugh. "No," He says.

"Issac, I need to speak to them. To know if the triplets are okay- so know if fucking Clayton is okay!" I yell, and he sighs. "Claytons fine".

"Your definition of fine means his heart is beating" I scoff, glancing around the room. I stop when I spot a painted portrait of Issac hanging over my kitchen table.

How the fuck am I only noticing this monstrosity now?

This fucker thinks he's so funny, doesn't he?

"Clayton's fine" He repeats. "Let me call them. Or text- or even fucking write to them. Just something-"

"I said no Jayson. If you contact them in any way, there will be severe consequences. For them" He adds, telling me I won't be the one receiving the punishment.

We fall into silence for a few seconds, before I take a deep breath.

"Please" I whisper, and he hums. "What was that?".

"Please" I grit out, louder this time. "Who am I?" He asks, and I bite my tongue so hard I taste blood immediately.

"Please Dad" I mutter, and he hums.

"No".

He then hangs up.

I curse, throwing the phone out of anger, and just to my luck, it goes straight through the small window above the kitchen sink.

Running my hands through my hair, I tug on the strands harshly, hoping the pain calms my mind a bit.

I try to think.

I'm hundreds of miles away from my family, stuck with a three-year job, and not permitted to have any contact with any of them unless I want them to end up with a broken bone or five.

Fuck.