Chapter 15 Koa
Koa
The sun’s barely up when I drop Lexi off at her dorm.
I watch her walk inside—the way she glances back once, that small wave that says more than she probably means it to—then I drive back to my side of campus.
My room is small. Neat. Hockey gear stacked in a crate by the door, a single poster half-peeled from the wall—some band with a good drummer. My laptop sits open on the desk beside my burner phone, the screen still glowing from earlier.
Outside, campus is starting to wake up. Laughter drifts through the window. Someone’s tossing a football across the quad. Two doors down, some idiot is blasting EDM at six in the morning.
I sit at my desk—cheap particle board, dented from fists that weren’t mine—and pull up my private spreadsheet.
Three counties. Five runners. Eight drop points. All coded in shorthand that only I understand.
I find Axel’s name. Highlight both cells where he appears. Hover over the delete key.
Then I press it.
The columns close like a wound.
Cut one vein to save the body.
I light a cigarette by the window, crack it open just enough to exhale through the screen so the RA won’t smell it. The smoke curls out into the morning air, disappearing into nothing.
She fell asleep to my massage last night. Trusted me enough to let her guard down completely. That feeling—the weight of her relaxing under my hands, the soft sound of her breathing evening out—it felt good.
Better than it should have.
I take another drag, ash out the window, and pick up my burner phone.
Time to make good on my promise.
The first call is to Juno.
He’s a mid-level supplier in county two, moves mostly coke and pills. He picks up on the third ring.
“Yeah?”
“Axel’s off,” I say, voice flat. “You hear that name again, you hang up.”
There’s a nervous laugh on the other end. “He’s small time, man. Why do you even care?”
“Then he’s easy to erase.”
I hang up before he can respond.
One down.
I tick a line through Juno’s name on my notepad. The rhythm of it—call, warn, confirm, tick—calms me more than caffeine ever could.
Next is Rafe. County one. He’s cocky, thinks he’s untouchable because he moves weight for three different suppliers.
He answers immediately. “Koa. What’s good?”
“Axel’s done. Don’t sell to him.”
“He offered double last week,” Rafe says, like it’s a negotiation.
“If you want to keep breathing easy, refuse.”
Silence. Long enough that I know he’s running the thought through his head—profit versus pain.
“Yeah,” he finally says, voice clipped. “Understood.”
“Good.”
I hang up. Tick another line.
Someone knocks on my door. Once. Then it opens without waiting.
Oxy.
“You skipping weight room?” he asks, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.
“Handled my workout.”
He glances at the laptop, sees the spreadsheet still open. “Still cleaning house?”
“Promises need proof.”
He leans against the wall, arms crossed. “You like that kid’s sister that much, huh?”
I don’t look at him. Just keep scrolling through my contacts. “None of your business.”
I like what she can offer me that much.
Oxy shrugs. “Alright, man. Off to the weight room. Call if you need me.”
He leaves, and I lock the door behind him. No more witnesses.
Second round of calls.
Rico, a runner in county two, tries to argue.
“Come on, man. He pays on time. Why cut him off?”
“Not anymore.”
“You can’t blacklist everyone he knows—”
“Watch me.”
I hang up before he can keep whining.
Next is Tad. County three. He’s always been a pain in the ass, thinks humor will get him out of anything.
“If I cut him off, I lose profit,” Tad says, laughing.
“And if you don’t, you lose teeth.”
He keeps laughing—until I read his mother’s nail salon address off a sticky note I pulled from one of his previous drops.
Silence.
“You understand me now?” I ask.
“Yeah.” His voice is small. Obedient. “I understand.”
Good.
I end the call, cross him off the list.
By late afternoon, I’m done with the calls. But there’s one more thing I need to handle.
Axel.
I find him in the student parking lot, waiting by his piece-of-shit car. He’s jittering, phone in hand, stack of bills clutched tight.
When he sees me, his face lights up. Hope and desperation mixed together.
“Koa, man, thank god.” He steps forward. “I’ve been calling everyone. Five times. Nobody’s picking up. Just give me a taste, man. I can pay—”
“No.”
He blinks. “What?”
“You’re done.”
“Come on, don’t do this. You don’t get it, I can—”
“You already paid,” I interrupt. “Through her.”
He freezes. “What the fuck do you mean through her?”
“She offered herself. I accepted.”
His face goes red. “What the fuck are you talking about? You can’t fucking do that!”
“I just did.”
He swings.
Sloppy. Predictable. Fueled by rage and withdrawal.
My reflex is instantaneous. I grab his wrist mid-swing, pivot, drive my elbow into his ribs. He crumples, gasps for air.
One clean hit to the jaw. His head bounces off the car door with a hollow thud.
He drops to his knees, coughing.
I lean down close, voice even. Almost gentle.
“You’re done. Try again, I’ll break your hands. If you don’t fucking stop, I’ll break hers.”
His eyes widen. He knows exactly who hers is.
I straighten up, wipe my knuckles on my hoodie, and walk away before anyone notices the blood.
Back in my dorm, I lock the door and pull the blinds halfway down.
I text Oxy.
Koa: Axel Kane = ghost.
Oxy: Copy.
I pull out my spiral notebook, find Axel’s name, and put an X over it. Press hard enough that the pen tears through the page.
Then I scroll through my call logs and delete every trace. One mistake on campus brings cops, and cops bring questions I can’t answer.
I sit on the bed with my ledger open. Pencil tapping against the page.
County A: clear.
County B: pending.
County C: stable.
I write at the bottom, No leaks. No Ax.
Outside the window, the quad glows orange under lamplight. A couple makes out on a bench. Normalcy hums around me, oblivious.
A campus security truck passes outside. I watch the lights flash across my blinds, casting shadows that dance and disappear.
They have no idea what’s happening right under them. No idea that I run more of this campus than they do.
And they never will.
I close the notebook and kill the light.
Promises are expensive. I pay mine with other people’s bones.
But for Lexi?
I’ll pay it.
Every time.