Chapter 5 Koa
Koa
I’m around the brick corner, hood up, breath small in the cold air.
Not waiting. Watching.
From here, I can count heartbeats at thirty feet. Can see the tremor in someone’s hands before they know they’re shaking.
The girls come out from the darkness. Both in hoodies, dark hair. One is terrified and the other furious. They thought they were invisible. They’re not.
Axel is still on the ground, blood dripping from his nose onto the concrete. He’s trying to push himself up, failing. His hands slip in his own blood.
Oxy materializes beside me, silent as smoke. He jerks his chin toward the girls. “They saw.”
“They sure did.”
“We should—”
My hand clamps down on his sleeve. Small. Authoritative. “No. I want to see the family drama unfold.”
Oxy hates chaos. Hates disruptions to the order. But he knows better than to question me twice.
I watch the furious one step toward Axel. She looks tall, hoodie hanging loose, hands tucked in pockets. But her posture is wrong for someone scared for her brother. Her shoulders are back. Her jaw is set.
She moves toward Axel, and I can see her mouth moving, can’t hear the words but I can read the shape of them. What the fuck…
Axel sees her. His face goes white. Even from here, I can see the panic.
“You need to leave. Now.”
Her jaw trembles. Not from fear. From rage.
I file that image away.
Strong little thing, isn’t she?
Oxy bumps my shoulder, whispers low. “They’re a problem.”
“Not yet.” I watch the other girl grab her arm, pull her backward, looking around like we’re watching them, and she doesn’t know from which direction. “We’ll see them again.”
“You sure about that?”
I turn, look at him. “When have I been wrong?”
He grins. Shakes his head. “Never.”
Axel runs in our direction moments later.
Stupid. Desperate. Reeking of contrition and fear.
I move like a shadow—intercept, control, silence. My hand finds his throat before he registers I’m there. I slam him against the wall, fingers pressing into the hollow where his pulse hammers.
Not enough to kill. Just enough to command.
“Telling your sister my business?” My voice is flat, clinical.
“No, no—” He stammers, hands scrabbling at my wrist. “I swear, I didn’t—”
“She needs to keep herself out this… and keep her nose in… books. Understand?”
He nods so fast his skull bounces off the brick.
I hold him there for another three seconds. Let the fear marinate. Then I release.
He drops, catches himself on his knees, coughs.
“Tomorrow morning,” I say. “Bring double.”
“Double? I can’t—”
I crouch down, eye level with him. “You will.”
He stares at me, eyes glassy with tears and terror. Then he nods.
I stand, brush past him, and don’t look back.
The car is parked two blocks away, tucked in the shadows between streetlights. I slide into the driver’s seat, pop the glove box, and pull out the envelope Axel handed me earlier.
I count.
Bills spread across the passenger seat like dead leaves. Twenties, tens, a few crumpled fives. I flatten each one, note the serials with a practiced thumb.
More than he owed.
Fools always overpay for a quiet life.
I stack the bills, rubber-band them, tuck them into the inside pocket of my jacket. The weight settles against my ribs, familiar and satisfying.
Oxy climbs in on the passenger side, slams the door. “We eating or what?”
“Yeah.”
I start the engine. It growls to life, vibrates through the seat. I pull out of the shadows, headlights cutting through the dark.
The burger joint is a hole in the wall three blocks from campus. The grease smell is thick enough to taste. Bad music crackles from a speaker somewhere in the back—something with too much bass and not enough melody.
We slide into a booth near the window. Vinyl seats, cracked and taped. The table is sticky.
Oxy orders a double burger, fries, a shake. I get coffee and a burger I won’t finish.
“You coulda killed him,” Oxy says, dumping ketchup on his fries. “Back there. Nobody would’ve said shit.”
“Then who collects tomorrow?”
He snorts, takes a bite.
I sip the coffee. It’s burnt, bitter. Perfect.
A group of students passes by, laughing, stumbling, probably drunk already. One of them stops, pukes into a trash can, keeps walking like nothing happened.
Pathetic.
My dorm room is dark when I get back. Dim lights, blinds drawn. There’s a girl on my bed—blonde, tight dress, heels kicked off by the door. A puck bunny who always waits patiently for my dick. I told her she could come by and wait for me.
She smiles when I walk in, sits up, runs a hand through her hair. “Took you long enough.”
I toss my jacket on the chair, pour two fingers of cheap whiskey into a glass. “You want one?”
“Sure.”
I pour another glass, hand it to her. She sips, watches me over the rim.
I sit on the edge of the bed, close enough that she leans in. Her perfume is too sweet, cloying. She puts a hand on my thigh, slides it up.
“Missed you,” she says, voice breathy.
I let her kiss me. Let her think she’s winning. She laughs, breathes my name like a fucking slut.
Then I grab her chin. Not hard. Just enough to stop her.
She pulls back, confused. “What—”
“Leave.”
Her face twists. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah.”
She stares at me for a long moment, then laughs—sharp, bitter. “You’re an asshole.”
My jaw clenches as I take another sip of my whiskey.
She grabs her shoes, her purse, slams the door on her way out. The sound echoes through the room.
I finish my whiskey. Pour another.
I empty my pockets onto the desk. Cash. Pills. Keys.
I sort everything into neat piles. Count the cash again. Check the pills—imprints, weight, color. Make notes on my own phone about delivery timestamps, who’s paid, who’s late.
A league of numbers.
My mind keeps circling back to the alley. His sister. Lexi. The way she looked like she wanted to beat him instead. The way she followed him into the alley despite the danger. The way her jaw trembled with rage, not fear.
Not sympathy. Interest.
She wants to help him. Solve him. Save him.
That’s a provocation.
I close my eyes, but I don’t sleep. I run scenarios instead. Is she a liability? A mark? A complication I’ll enjoy?
Lexi, Lexi, Lexi.
My phone buzzes at 6 a.m. Missed calls. Texts. I ignore them all.
I strap on my duffle, lace my skates, head to the rink. Everything on autopilot—cold, focus, violence as exercise.
The stairwell is empty except for Axel. He’s with the dark-haired girl from last night. They’re talking in low voices, heads bent together.
I let my gaze land on him. Just for a second.
He sees me. His face goes pale. He turns away, grabs Thea’s arm, pulls her down the stairs faster.
I keep walking.
Soon enough, I’ll be getting in a few punches. He’ll be my bag.
The thought makes me smile.
The ice is empty when I arrive. Just me and the echo of my skates on the boards.
I lace up, step onto the ice, and let the cold settle into my bones.
I skate hard. Fast. Let the burn fill my lungs, my legs, my arms. I check imaginary opponents into the boards, slam my stick against the ice, let the violence bleed out in controlled bursts.
Oxy shows up halfway through, along with a few others from the team. Hudson, Carter, a couple of freshmen whose names I don’t care to remember.
I board Hudson into the glass. Not hard enough to injure. Just hard enough to remind him who’s in charge.
He laughs it off, but I see the wariness in his eyes.
Good.
Hudson skates up to me during a water break, helmet off, sweat dripping down his face. “Hey, man. You got any?”
I stare at him. “Beat it.”
“Come on, Koa. Just a little—”
“Ask again and I’ll break your legs.”
He laughs. Nervous. “You’re joking, right?”
I don’t answer. Just skate away.
Oxy catches up. “Asking again?”
“Begging. Fucking pathetic.”
We wait in the car around the corner from the gym. Oxy’s in the passenger seat, peeling gum, bouncing his knee. I sit like a statue, eyes on the parking lot entrance.
Axel shows up at 7:30. Right on time.
He’s breathless, hands shaking as he approaches the car. I roll down the window.
He holds out the cash. Bills crumpled, counted, trembling in his hand.
I take it. Count it slowly. Let him sweat.
It’s all there. Plus extra.
I tuck it into my jacket, then lean out the window. “You up for another round?”
His face goes white. “I don’t know if I can—”
“Great. I’ll be in touch.”
I reach out, place a palm on his shoulder. Feigned comfort. He flinches.
I smirk as I smack his cheek. “See you soon, Axel.”
He nods, backs away, turns, and storms across the parking lot.
I watch him go. Watch the way his shoulders hunch, the way he keeps looking over his shoulder.
He’ll never be off the hook. Not while I’m interested in his family dilemma.
I rev the engine. The car growls, vibrates.
Oxy grins. “Where to next?”
I park the fucking car in a stall across the lot and look at Oxy.
“Class, Maddox.”
Oxy smirks at me and hits me in the shoulder. “Alright.”