Chapter 2 #2
“Sure you do,” I said, hauling Howard up by the back of the shirt. I tapped on his chest. “This right here is worth $200,000 alone.”
Howard’s face paled even more, and a strangled scream tore from his throat. “No! Please! Don’t! I’ll get it! I’ll get it!” He clawed at my hands, his knuckles white, eyes wide with pure terror.
I didn’t flinch. I let him struggle for a moment, letting the sound of his panic fill the room, and then tightened my grip slightly, just enough to remind him who was in control.
“Howard,” I said, voice low and lethal, “this is what happens when you can’t pay your debts.”
The panic in Howard's eyes was almost satisfying, a glimpse of the fear I’d become accustomed to evoking. But even as I tightened my grip, I couldn't ignore the woman’s presence. She stood there, defiance mixing with desperation, and I found myself studying her more than I intended.
“Please,” she begged, getting down on her hands and knees. “I will do anything.”
I should have ignored her. Should have focused on the debtor in front of me.
But the sight of her on her hands and knees did something to me.
A mix of irritation and… something far more dangerous.
My pulse tightened, awareness sharpening as every detail of her—the curve of her neck, the fire still lingering in her eyes—etched itself into my mind.
I leaned slightly closer, voice low, controlled, yet heavy with a dark amusement. “Anything, huh? Be careful what you offer. Some promises are harder to keep than others.”
Howard’s eyes widened, panic twisting his features even further.
“Y-yeah… yeah, take Tessa. Take her! Just don’t kill me!
Please!” The words tumbled out of him like a prayer, desperate and unthinking.
His hands shook as he pressed himself further into the couch, as if shrinking small enough could make me ignore him.
I let the name roll over me, tasting it like a new piece of information, letting it sink in. So, her name is Tessa. My gaze flicked to her, noting the defiance still flickering in her eyes despite the fear that lingered beneath.
“You throw your daughter to the wolves to save your own skin?” I said, voice low and cutting, letting each word land like a whip.
Howard whimpered, his face paling further. “I—I didn’t mean—”
“I’ll do it,” she interjected, getting off her hands and knees and standing.
“You’ll do what?” I asked, my voice low, almost a growl, as I leaned closer, intrigued and amused.
Her eyes met mine without flinching, defiance still burning even as her hands trembled at her sides. “I’ll be your payment,” she said, voice steady despite the quaver I could hear underneath. “Just don’t hurt my dad.”
Howard flinched at her words, relief and terror mixing on his face, while I let a slow, deliberate smirk tug at my lips.
“Is that so?” I murmured, voice low, letting the words linger like a knife. “And who said I accepted this new form of payment?”
Her chest rose and fell quickly, but she held my gaze, a flicker of defiance mingling with the fear in her eyes. “I’ll do whatever it takes,” she said, voice steady, though a tremor betrayed her nerves.
Howard whimpered behind her, shrinking further into the couch, but my attention stayed locked on her. Bold. Reckless. And fascinating. The audacity of offering herself—willing, yet cautious—was both dangerous and compelling.
I let a slow, deliberate smirk tug at my lips. “You’re eager,” I said softly, letting the words hang in the air, heavy with warning. “Let’s see if you can survive proving it.”
I drove my boot into Howard’s stomach one last time, for good measure. “You can have her back once you’ve paid off the sixty grand.”
Before she could react, I grabbed Tessa by the arm, my grip firm but controlled.
Her eyes widened, a flicker of struggle flashing before she realized resistance was futile.
I could feel her heartbeat against my fingers as I led her from the squalor of the apartment, her pulse a steady drumbeat of panic.
The stairwell echoed with the clack of my boots, every step deliberate, commanding. She stayed close, gaze flicking nervously between me and the shadows of the broken hallway.
When we hit the street, I had her sit in the back with Stefano. She hesitated for only a moment before sliding onto the seat, eyes darting between us, wary but restrained. Stefano gave her a tight-lipped glance, silent and alert, as if daring her to move.
I circled to the driver’s side and slid into the seat, gripping the wheel with calm authority.
The engine hummed low, a steady promise of speed and control.
I let my gaze flick to her through the rearview mirror.
Fear danced in her eyes, but alongside it burned a spark of defiance, stubborn and unbroken.
Good. That made this interesting.
“Sit still,” I murmured, voice low, deliberate. The words were both a warning and a challenge. I didn’t need to see her hands clenching the seat edges to know they were tight.
As the car pulled away from the South Bronx, the city lights stretched into long streaks, and I felt that familiar thrill—the kind that came when everything was under my control. Except, perhaps, her.