Chapter 7 Koa
Koa
The druggie is twitching on the corner like a broken marionette.
I spot him from half a block away—Brad, some washed-up townie who’s been scoring from someone else’s supply. His hands shake as he checks his phone, checks the street, checks his phone again. The rhythm of desperation.
I just got out of my morning class—some bullshit economics lecture I barely paid attention to—and I’m supposed to be heading to practice. But this catches my eye. Brad’s on my block. My territory.
That’s a problem.
Oxy’s beside me, following my gaze. “That the tweaker from Fourth Street?”
“Yeah.”
“Want me to handle it?”
“No.” I’m already walking toward him. “I got it.”
Brad sees me coming. His eyes go wide, and he takes a step back, but there’s nowhere to go. I’m faster.
I grab him by the front of his stained jacket, slam him against the brick wall hard enough that his head bounces. A woman passing by gasps and hurries away. Smart.
“Please, man, I didn’t—”
“Shut up.” I pin him with one hand, use the other to check his pockets. Empty. Just a wallet with three dollars and a maxed-out credit card. “Where is it?”
“Where’s what?”
I slam him again. Harder. “Don’t play stupid with me, Brad. Where’s your stash?”
“I don’t have—”
I pull out a bag from my own pocket. Hold it up so he can see it. White powder in a clear ziplock. His pupils dilate instantly.
“This what you want?”
He nods so fast it’s fucking ridiculous.
Oxy steps closer, snarls in his face. “Stupid bastard.”
“Tell me who your dealer is,” I say, my voice flat and cold, “and I’ll make it worth your time.”
Brad shakes his head frantically. “I don’t know who. I told you before, man. It’s just a guy. I meet him at different spots—”
“Names.”
“I don’t know his name!”
I study his face. The sweat. The tremor in his jaw. He’s telling the truth. Which means his dealer is careful. Smart. A bigger problem than I thought.
I lean in close. “You report to me now. We’re claiming this block. Understand?”
He nods.
“You see anyone selling here, you tell me. You hear anything, you tell me. Got it?”
“Yeah, I got it.”
I release him. He stumbles, catches himself, scurries off down the alley like a kicked dog.
I spit on the ground. My jaw ticks.
Oxy lights a cigarette, offers me one. I take it, let him light it for me. We stand there for a moment, smoke curling into the cold morning air.
“We could ask the tweaker down the road,” Oxy says, exhaling. “She knows everyone.”
“No.” I flick ash onto the pavement. “I have somewhere to be.”
He raises an eyebrow. “What, special practice? Coach will lose his shit if you’re late again.”
“Not practice.”
“Then what?”
I start walking toward the car. “Something interesting. For once.”
Oxy catches up, walking beside me. “Interesting how?”
“Interesting enough that you’re not invited.”
He stops. “What the fuck do you mean?”
I unlock the Charger, slide into the driver’s seat. Oxy climbs in on the passenger side, staring at me like he’s worried about where my head’s at.
“You have the night off,” I say, starting the engine.
“You’re fucking with me.”
I pull out of the parking spot, merge into traffic. “I’m not.”
“You sure?”
“Dead sure.”
He’s quiet for a minute, studying me. Then he grins. “This about that girl? Axel’s sister?”
I don’t answer.
“It is.” He sighs louder. “Man, you’re really doing this?”
“Drop it.”
“No way. This is too good.” He’s grinning like an idiot now. “Koa’s got a thing for—”
“I said drop it.”
My voice is ice. He shuts up.
We drive in silence for a few blocks. The city slides past the windows—cracked sidewalks, graffiti-tagged buildings, the corner store where we move most of our product. This is my kingdom. Every street corner, every alley, every shadow.
Oxy would take a bullet for me. Would bury a body, torch a car, lie to the cops. He’s loyal to the bone because I pulled him out of the gutter when no one else gave a shit.
That’s how this works. You save someone, they owe you. Forever.
We pull up to his apartment—a shitty complex on the edge of campus, peeling paint and broken gutters. He climbs out, leans back in through the window.
“You need me tonight, call.”
“I won’t need you.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He grins. “Have fun with the girl.”
I drive across town, past the nicer neighborhoods where the houses have lawns and the cars have two functioning headlights.
My business is bigger than most people realize.
Dozens of runners, drop points scattered across three counties, a network that moves more product in a week than most dealers do in a month.
Axel is a small fry. A mistake I made, falling for his spiel about being connected, about having buyers lined up. Turns out he was just a desperate kid with a habit and a sister who cares too much.
But his sister... she’s different.
I can’t stop thinking about her. The way she stood in front of me this morning, chin lifted, eyes blazing. Defiant. Determined. Hungry for something she doesn’t even understand yet.
Most people fold when I push them. They crumble, beg, make promises they’ll break in a week.
But Lexi didn’t scare off. She pushed back, and I’ll change her mind tonight.
I pull into the rink parking lot at 8:47 p.m. Early. But I don’t mind waiting.
I park in the shadows behind the building, cut the engine, and light a cigarette. The rink looms above me, dark and silent. No one uses this part of campus at night. Too isolated. Too easy to disappear.
Perfect.
I check my phone. A few texts from runners, nothing urgent. I respond to two, ignore the rest.
Then I wait.
The minutes drag. I finish my cigarette, light another. My knee bounces—just once—and I force it to stop. Patience. Control. Always control.
At 9:00 sharp, I see her.
She rounds the corner, dressed in baggy jeans and an oversized hoodie. The fit is all wrong. Shapeless. Hiding everything.
No sense of style, I note. She dresses like she’s trying to disappear.
She spots the car, hesitates for just a second, then walks over. Her steps are measured, careful. Like she’s walking into a cage and knows it.
She opens the passenger door, slides in.
The scent hits me immediately—strawberry. Sweet and sharp. It fills the car, invades my lungs, makes something in my chest tighten.
I turn to look at her.
Her eyes meet mine. Defiant. Determined. Hungry.
I still don’t know what she’s hungry for. But I’m going to find out.
I reach into my jacket, pull out a small bag of white powder, and hold it out to her.
She stares at it. Then shakes her head.
“You wanted in?” I say, my voice flat. “You take it.”
She hesitates, then grabs the bag and shoves it into her pocket.
I laugh. Can’t help it.
She watches me, eyebrows drawing together. “What’s funny?”
“I didn’t mean put it in your fucking pocket.” I’m still grinning. “Pull it out and sniff a line.”
Her face hardens. She pulls the bag out and thrusts it back at me. “No.”
My jaw ticks. I stare at her, trying to figure out how the hell I’m going to handle someone this defiant. Most girls would’ve giggled and listened. Would’ve proven they’re serious, that they’ll do whatever it takes to free their drug addict brother.
But not her.
“Get out,” I say.
She blinks. “Are you serious?”
“We’re done here.”
“What the hell—” She shakes her head. “No.”
I get out of the car, walk around to her side, and yank open her door. “Don’t make me force you.”
She glares up at me. “So I don’t rail a couple lines and you’re throwing me out?”
I nod.
She stands, tries to meet my height. Fails. She’s tiny compared to me. “So I don’t take your little drugs and now you can’t take advantage of me, and you’re throwing a fit?”
I lean down, close enough that she has to tilt her head back to look at me. “If I wanted to take advantage of you, you would know. If you don’t want to follow my rules, then we’re done here.”
“You can’t be fucking serious. I don’t do drugs.”
“Stop wasting my fucking time.”
She grabs my arm. Her hand is small, fingers barely wrapping around my forearm. I look down at her.
“I want my brother out of your business.”
“It’s none of your fucking business what your brother’s up to.” I pull her out of the way, shut the car door. Start walking back to the driver’s side.
Before I can get in, she opens the passenger door.
“What’re you doing?” I ask.
“I’ll do it. You go first.”
“That’s not how this works.”
“Then tell me how it works.”
“You want your brother out of the business?”
She nods. We step into the car again and shut the door.
I say, “Then trade places with him.”
Her mouth opens. Her breath catches. “What?”
I watch her face. Watch the realization dawn. The horror. The calculation. She knows exactly what I’m asking, and I can’t wait to watch her pretend to reject me and then take my deal anyway.
“If you really want him out,” I say slowly, “trade places with him. But here are the rules.” I lean against the middle console. “You listen to me and only me. You report to me. If I say jump, you jump as high as you can. If I fall off the bridge, you do too.”
She laughs. It’s sharp, bitter. “Is that the oath my brother is under?”
I glare at her. “No. I have a special use for you. You’re more valuable than your brother.”
Her face twists. “Because I have a pussy and tits?”
“Now you’re catching on.”
“I’m not going to let you pimp me out and be your whore. You’re mistaken about what this is.”
“And what is this?”
“A negotiation.” She crosses her arms. “What do you want? Money?”
I laugh. I can’t help it. A warm feeling blooms in my stomach, spreads through my chest. She’s so far out of her depth she doesn’t even realize it.
“Full access,” I say.
“Full access to what?”
“To you.”
Silence ripples in the car as I stare at her brown eyes.
Horror flickers across her face. Then she turns and races out of the car.
“You leave this car,” I call after her, “and I’ll assume it’s a no. You’ll be invisible to me once you leave. No more negotiations.”
She halts. Slows. Her shoulders rise and fall with each breath.
“You want your brother’s freedom?” I say, softer now. “It comes with a price.”
She almost laughs like this is a joke. “You could probably have any girl you want. Surely you don’t need to force me into anything. There are better options out there with better connections, money, wealth, better genetics even than me.”
“Don’t insult yourself. It’s ugly.”
She turns and looks at me. “Look in the mirror. You don’t need to force anyone to be in your circle. Girls would do it willingly. Me? I’m a nobody.”
“So you’re willing?”
“I never said I was willing.”
I reach out, put a hand on her knee and squeeze. Not hard. Just enough to make my point.
“Then shut the hell up and agree to the terms, or your brother will stay under my wraps.”
She looks at me. Doesn’t answer. Doesn’t move.
Triumph spreads through my chest, warm and intoxicating.
She’s going to agree.
She’s going to be mine.
My toy.