Oh my God.

He’s here. In my home.

The scar-faced man is here, sitting in my chair, looking relaxed and patient. And like he’s been there awhile.

God in heaven, what am I going to do?

I can’t even run.

My breath catches painfully in my throat, and everything inside me stops as though someone switched off all my organs and my ability to breathe.

The man doesn’t say anything. He just smiles, those dark eyes assessing, taking me in from the tear-streaked face to my trembling hands like he’s cataloging damage.

“Evening, Elodie,” he finally speaks, his South Boston accent unmistakable. I hate the nonchalance in his tone.

I hate it even more that I’m a terrified mess seconds away from falling apart.

“What are you doing in my home?” I grate out.

His smile widens, and he looks scarier. “Sorry, dear girl, that is the wrong question to ask a guy like me.”

“This is breaking and entering.” How foolish of me. This man looks like he’s been in prison a few times for far worse things.

He laughs with a cool, cruel edge. “I’m going to cut you some slack. You seem like a nice girl. Naïve but nice. If you weren’t nice, I would have instructed Benny here to cut out your tongue.” He gestures to the archway, and a hulking man steps into view—built like the Hulk, with a presence that eats the room alive.

My heart nearly gives out. How could I have been in here with not just one but the two of them and not noticed? And they saw me crying.

My tears become the least of my worries when Benny steps closer and pulls a knife from his back pocket.

“Please.” I hold up my hands as if that can protect me. I keep my eyes on Benny and that knife. Terrified, I glance at the man in the chair as he gets up and leans against the wall.

“We’ve given you enough time to pay the loan. On top of that, you’ve been very ungrateful.”

I shake my head violently. “No. No, I haven’t been.”

“Well, Elodie… you haven’t taken any of Marcus’ calls. Haven’t seen you in the office, either. What are we supposed to think?”

My gaze darts between him and Benny, who stops a breath away and lifts the knife in the air. The other man steps closer, and I swear I see my entire life flash before my eyes.

“I’ve been having trouble paying,” I blurt out. “I already told Marcus this. My car broke down, and I need it to get to work—to pay the loan, my living expenses⁠—”

He holds up both hands and wiggles his fingers. “I’m hearing a load of excuses”—he smirks—“but no solutions. Just excuses, excuses, excuses.”

“I can pay three thousand at the end of the month. Then I’ll try to make up the rest,” I plead.

To my horror, he shakes his head. “That’s not gonna work. Marcus has a business to run. This loan was a hefty one. Two hundred G’s. Marcus gave it to your friend because he trusted her.”

Join the club. I trusted her, too, and look where that got me. We both got screwed over.

“Please, just give me a chance,” I beg. “I’ll be able to make up the money.”

“That’s just the thing, doll.” His smile turns razor-sharp. “You’re struggling now. And you’re aware of the daily interest, I take it?”

“Yes, of course, I’m aware of the daily interest.”

“So, how will you make it up? That interest will just keep going up… and up… and up.”

The man moves even closer—right up in my face.

I step back, and he moves with me until my back hits the wall. Then he slams a fist into the space above my head and rests a heavy hand on my chest.

I gasp, wanting to scream, but no sound comes out. I don’t have the strength.

Benny flicks the knife back and forth, then presses the tip to my jaw.

It’s so sharp I fear he’ll cut the skin. Or worse—cut off my face. Tears stream down my cheeks. I can’t stop them. Can’t even care that I look weak.

All I know is I’m fearing for my life.

“Please,” I whisper. “Don’t hurt me. Please.”

The man glances at Benny. The two of them laugh, as if I’ve said something hilarious.

“I’ll tell you what,” the man croons. “Like I said, you’re a nice girl. I like you.”

He pauses, and Benny drags the knife along my jawline.

“I’m going to give you a chance. But know this—we don’t give out chances easily. So, consider yourself lucky. You have until Monday at midnight. That’s six days. Pay what you owe and next month’s payment. Then we’ll call it even.”

“Monday?” I choke out.

He nods and leans in, brushing the tip of his nose against mine.

“Monday, doll. And if you don’t pay…” His smile widens. “We’ll be having a very different conversation. Talking about other ways you can make that money back.”

Bile rises in my throat.

It doesn’t take a genius to understand what he means.

Marcus runs a strip club. And everyone knows there’s more to it than that.

“Monday, Miss Harper,” he finishes. “If you don’t show up…” He laughs. “Let’s just say, you should show up. Don’t make that mistake.”

He backs off, and Benny finally tucks the knife away.

“See you then,” the man says, smiling like we’re old friends.

Benny opens the door and slips out first, flashing a grin full of gold teeth.

The man follows, and I’m not sure if I should be grateful he doesn’t look back.

They leave the door open.

I wait a few minutes before reaching out and closing it.

The door clicks shut, and the silence that follows is deafening.

My legs finally give out, and I slide down the wall, hitting the floor in a crumpled mess.

My stomach twists so violently I’m surprised I don’t vomit.

I try to steady my mind but fail.

My heart won’t slow down. My hands won’t stop shaking.

My pulse thrums in my throat, in my skull, everywhere, loud enough to drown out thought.

Six days.

Six days until my life ends—or changes into something I won’t recognize.

My breath saws in and out of my chest, and I press a trembling palm to my mouth, trying not to throw up.

I’ve never felt fear like this.

The kind that claws inside your ribs and whispers that no one is coming.

No one can save you.

I clutch my chest, gasping, desperate for air that won’t fill my lungs.

I can’t even cry.

Six days from now, I either pay… or I disappear.

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