Enzo sat on the edge of the couch, elbows on knees, staring at the floor like he expected it to swallow him.
"They said if I don't pay it tonight... they'll come for me." His voice cracked. "And they won't knock first, Vireya."
She stood a few feet away, arms wrapped tightly around herself. Her stomach was in knots. "How much do you owe papa?"
He hesitated, then lifted his head. "Six million."
Vireya blinked. "What?"
"I didn't mean for it to grow this much. I kept taking loans to pay off others, and Rael kept raising the interest. He said he was doing me a favor." Enzo laughed bitterly. "Some favor."
Her chest tightened as anger and fear swirled inside her. "You never told me any of this. Why?"
He looked up at her, eyes red and exhausted. "Because I didn't want you to look at me the way you're looking at me now."
She turned away, biting down on her cheek to keep herself together.
"They said they'd settle if I offered something... valuable," he continued.
Vireya's body went still. "What does that mean?"
Enzo didn't answer.
"What does that mean, Dad?" she demanded.
He rubbed his face hard, almost like he was trying to erase himself. "Rael wants leverage. Something personal. Something that hurts."
Her breath caught. "He asked for me?"
"No," Enzo said quickly. "Not yet. Not directly. But I know how men like him think. If I show up tonight empty-handed... he won't ask. He'll take."
Vireya took a shaky step back. "Then don't go."
"And what? Hide? Leave the country? You think I haven't tried that? You don't get away from Rael. People like him... they bury you where no one will ever find the bones."
He looked at her again. "I've ruined everything."
Vireya's heart was in her throat. "There has to be another way."
Enzo shook his head slowly. "There isn't."
The silence between them wasn't quiet. It screamed.
Vireya turned and walked toward her room, voice trembling as she spoke. "Don't make any promises, papa. Not about me. Not ever."
A shrill ringtone cut through the silence like a blade. Enzo flinched, fumbling with the battered phone as the screen lit up with a single name: Rael.
He stared at it for a moment too long.
"Rael," he murmured, voice already shaking.
Vireya's pulse skipped. "Don't answer," she whispered, but it was too late.
He lifted it to his ear, trying to sound firm. "Rael, please… "
"You have one hour," Rael said flatly. No emotion. No leniency. Just finality.
"I… Rael, I'm still trying. I swear I am."
"You're out of time."
Vireya's heart was pounding. She crossed the room quickly and took the phone from her father's hand, gripping it tightly.
"Wait," she said, voice soft but clear. "Please... I'm asking you. Give us a month."
Rael was silent on the other end.
"A month," she repeated, her voice trembling. "If you're not paid by then, then you... you can take what you want from us. Anything."
Enzo stared at her, horrified. "Vireya, no… "
"Please if you can bear with us… we are struggling to pay back right now," she said, tears slipping past her lashes. "I'm asking for time."
Rael spoke after a long pause, his tone colder than before. "One month. Tick tock."
The line went dead.
Vireya stood still, clutching the phone, unable to breathe.
"I didn't mean that," she said quietly. "Not really. I just... didn't know what else to say."
Enzo tried to speak but couldn't find the words.
Vireya didn't look at him. She just stood there, trembling, praying something would change.
Vireya hadn't slept in two days.
Enzo had started coughing the morning after Rael's call, at first just a dry rasp. Now, his voice was gone and his body barely responded. She'd hoped it was stress. Maybe exhaustion. But then the fever hit.
She stood at the foot of his bed, wet cloth pressed against his forehead, watching his chest rise unevenly.
"Papa, you need to eat something," she whispered.
Enzo's eyes fluttered open for a moment. "Don't spend money on me," he muttered. "Save it. You'll need it."
She blinked away the sting in her throat. "We'll get through this. You just need rest."
But she knew it wasn't that simple. His condition was worsening and the local clinic wouldn't take him without money upfront. Money she didn't have. Money she was supposed to be gathering, for Rael.
The countdown clock was already ticking. Now her father's life was slipping alongside it.
Vireya stepped outside, pressing the door shut behind her before her sob broke free.
There were bills to pay. Medication to find. A job to chase. And every knock at the door made her flinch.
She stared down the street, breath shaky. One month sounded long when she begged for it. Now it felt cruelly short.
The music at Club Reign throbbed through the walls like a second heartbeat. Vireya stood near the entrance, staring at the velvet ropes and red lights, unsure whether to breathe or run.
She'd begged for work that would get her cash quick.
The music pulsed deep beneath Vireya's ribs as she stepped into Club Reign. The air inside was thick; perfume, sweat, heat, something vaguely metallic, and it wrapped around her like smoke.
She wasn't ready for this. Not for the strobe lights flashing across sharp eyes, or the way voices melted into the bass like one living thing. But she had to be. Enzo was still fevered, and the clinic bill sat unpaid. Rent was due in five days. Rael's countdown had already eaten one week.
Her dress was borrowed, too tight across her ribs. Her shoes pinched. She walked with caution, unsure whether people stared at her because they saw something fragile, or something they could break.
The woman at the bar gave her a clipped nod. "You're late."
"I'm sorry," Vireya mumbled.
"Don't be sorry. Just be fast. And don't let your hands shake when you carry the drinks… people here smell nerves."
Vireya pressed her lips together and nodded.
She spent the first hour ferrying cocktails through crowds that never stopped moving. One man grazed her wrist when she passed. Another leaned in too close to ask her name. She didn't answer him.
Behind the bar, Marna watched everything. Sharp eyes, arms folded, no smile.
"You did okay," Marna said when Vireya returned from a round. "For someone who doesn't belong in places like this."
Vireya blinked. "How do you know I don't?"
Marna raised a brow. "Because your eyes still flinch. People who belong here learn not to flinch."
Vireya didn't argue. She turned back toward the crowd and disappeared into the noise again, clutching a tray in both hands like it might shield her from the weight of the world.
The club was louder than usual that night, a packed crowd feeding off the bass like oxygen. Vireya moved through the crush of bodies with a tray balanced on one hand and her heart pacing double-time.
She'd just served drinks to a booth full of businessmen when one of them; mid-thirties, wine drunk, diamond watch gleaming, reached out and wrapped his fingers around her wrist.
"Slow down, pretty thing," he slurred. "At least let me enjoy the view."
Vireya yanked her arm back instinctively. "Please don't touch me."
His smile curled cruel. "Didn't mean offense. Just thought you came with... perks."
She stepped back, unsure if she should shout or walk away. Her tray shook in her hands.
"Don't be scared… I just want a taste. Or should I say a one night stand with you pretty sexy lady…" the man spoke drunken and laughed with his colleagues.
She tried to release herself from his tight grip which was turning her skin red already.
Before she could speak again, someone else did.
"Let her go."
The voice was calm. Cold. And immediate.
Vireya turned and saw him; tall, in a black collared shirt and no expression to soften the razor line of his jaw. Rael.
The man still holding her hesitated, then dropped her wrist.
Rael looked at him, then at the booth. "Anyone else feel like pressing your luck?"
No one answered.
Vireya backed away, shaken, clutching the tray against her stomach. Rael turned to her briefly, gaze unreadable.
"You alright?" he asked.
She nodded, barely. "Thank you."
He gave her one slow glance, curious, but not familiar. Then he walked away without waiting for her name.
Vireya stood still, heart pounding, unaware her life had just brushed against his in the smallest, most dangerous way.
And Rael, the man she'd bought time from, didn't even know she belonged to the name he hated most.
After the very long frustrating night, Vireya returned back home to her papa. She eased the door shut behind her, trying not to let the creak wake him. The lights were off except for a faint glow spilling from the kitchen. Enzo lay on the worn couch, bundled beneath two blankets, his chest rising shallow and uneven.
He stirred at the sound, eyes blinking open. "You're home," he said, voice hoarse.
"Yeah," she whispered, slipping out of her heels and dropping her bag quietly. "I brought soup. It's still warm."
He smiled faintly. "You didn't have to."
"I wanted to," she replied, pouring some into a chipped bowl and placing it beside him. "You need real food."
He sat up slowly with a wince. "You okay? You're quiet."
She nodded. "Just tired."
He watched her for a second. "First night?"
"Mm-hmm."
"How was it?"
She forced a small smile. "Busy. Loud. I don't think my feet have recovered."
He chuckled softly, then coughed, leaning back into the cushions. "Don't overdo it. Your body's not built for that kind of madness."
"I'll manage," she said, sitting near him and reaching to adjust the blanket. "One night down. Twenty-two to go."
He looked at her again, concern flickering behind exhaustion.
"You're stronger than me, you know," he murmured.
She didn't answer, just pressed the back of her hand to his forehead and kept quiet.
Enzo spooned a little soup into his mouth, then coughed softly and leaned back against the cushions. He looked at her from beneath furrowed brows.
"You were okay, right?" he asked, voice low.
Vireya nodded without looking at him. "Yeah."
"Any trouble?"
She hesitated for half a breath, then forced a tight smile. "Nothing I couldn't handle."
He shifted slightly, wincing at the effort. "Did anyone… get touchy with you?"
Her jaw tensed. "One guy tried. Just grabbed my wrist."
Enzo's face darkened. "And?"
"I told him not to touch me," she replied quietly. "Someone else stepped in and it ended there."
Enzo was silent for a moment. "You shouldn't have to go through that."
"I know," she whispered.
"I wish I could fix this," he said, emotion thick in his voice. "I wish you didn't have to be out there at all."
Vireya sat beside him, adjusting the blanket again. "Let's just focus on getting through the month papa."
He nodded slowly, eyes heavy with guilt and gratitude. And for a few minutes, the silence between them wasn't painful. It was just theirs.
Enzo finished the last spoonful of soup with shaky hands, then leaned back against the couch with a tired sigh. His breathing sounded heavier than usual, and his face was pale despite the blankets wrapped around him.
Vireya sat nearby, wiping the edges of the bowl in silence. Her eyes flickered toward him every few seconds, checking for signs, anything that said he was getting worse.
"You should go to bed," he murmured suddenly.
She hesitated. "I'm fine."
"You're not," he said softly, looking at her. "You came home quiet and tired. You're worrying me."
"I'm managing."
He nodded faintly, then gestured toward her bag sitting by the door. "Tomorrow... put something in there. Something sharp."
Vireya looked up, brow furrowed. "What do you mean papa?"
"I mean something small, just in case. There are men out there who don't care who you are. That club's loud. Nobody hears when a girl says no."
She swallowed, unsure what to say.
"I'm not telling you to use it," he added, coughing into his sleeve. "But I can't protect you anymore. Not the way I used to."
Vireya rose from the chair and crossed to him, kneeling beside the couch. "Don't say that papa. You protected me enough. I'll be careful."
Enzo brushed a hand gently over her head. "Be fierce. That's all I ask."
She nodded slowly, trying not to let the emotions tip over again. Then she stood, flicked off the light, and carried herself to her room, quietly fierce.
The city was humming by the time Vireya arrived at Club Reign for her second night. The sharp scent of gasoline mixed with rain lingered in the air, and the neon sign above the entrance flickered like it was trying to blink something away.
Inside, the music pulsed heavier than before. Her dress hugged a little tighter, her shoes still hurt, and her nerves, though slightly dulled, had not gone anywhere.
She weaved through the crowd with her tray balanced like armor. A few familiar faces from the night before nodded as she passed. Some didn't bother pretending politeness.
By midnight, her feet were sore and her face a practiced mask.
It was when she returned to the bar for a refill that the woman appeared; late twenties, dark red lips, crisp black jacket, perched alone with a whiskey glass and a kind of elegance that didn't match the club's chaos.
"You're new," she said casually, watching Vireya move.
"I started yesterday," Vireya replied, polite but wary.
The woman tilted her head. "You look like someone who doesn't know the rules here yet."
Vireya gave a small nod, not sure what she meant.
The woman leaned in slightly, not threatening, just close enough to be heard over the music. Her tone was even, but her eyes carried weight. "Word of advice. If anyone offers you something sweet… money, protection, special treatment… you say no."
"Why?"
"Because sweetness rots fast in places like this. Especially for girls who still flinch."
Vireya stiffened slightly.
"I'm not trying to scare you," the woman added. "Just... keep your head down. Until you know who's watching."
Then she turned back to her drink, as if the warning had never been spoken.
The club had emptied enough for the air to feel breathable again. The low lights painted the walls in bruised red, and the music had faded into quiet hums and scattered laughter.
Vireya leaned against the bar, wiping down the counter even though no one had asked her to.
Marna was stacking receipts behind the register, cigarette unlit between her lips.
Vireya hesitated, then cleared her throat. "Hey... that woman from earlier. She spoke to me."
Marna glanced up, uninterested. "Tall. Black jacket?"
"Yeah. Said not to trust anything sweet. Or the people who offer it."
Marna snorted and lit her cigarette. "She talks too much."
"But it felt like a warning," Vireya said softly. "She said girls who don't know whose name is stitched into their shadow should stay quiet. Who is she?"
Marna blew out a trail of smoke and leaned on the counter. "Listen, baby girl. Warnings don't fill wallets. You're new. Fresh-faced. Innocent. Some men would drop a whole paycheck just to spend the night."
Vireya blinked, throat tightening. "Spend the night?"
"Don't act shocked," Marna said flatly. "You want to make real money, you say yes more than no. That's how this place works. You keep your mouth shut, let them feel important, and walk out with triple what you thought you'd earn."
Vireya stood stiff, suddenly cold despite the heat in the room.
"I didn't come here for that," she said quietly.
Marna shrugged. "Then don't complain when your pockets stay light."
Vireya picked up her bag without another word and walked toward the door. Her hands were shaking, but her spine stayed straight.
She wasn't ready to bend. Not yet. And maybe not ever.
The streets were quieter than usual as Vireya walked home, her coat pulled tight around her and her pace quickened. The city had a strange feel that night—something low in the air, like a hum under the silence.
She glanced behind her. The two men from earlier leaned against the wall outside Club Reign, watching her. When she turned the corner, she heard them follow. She could hear the rhythm of their steps, not rushed, but steady. Intentional.
She kept walking.
"Hey," one called. "Don't be like that. We just want to talk."
Vireya's chest tightened. Her hand slid into her bag, searching for the smooth hilt of the dagger Enzo insisted she carry. She curled her fingers around it and crossed the street.
One of the men picked up pace. "That's rude, sweetheart."
Vireya stopped walking. She turned halfway, eyes wide but jaw clenched.
"Back off," she said, voice louder than she expected.
They smirked and kept walking towards her, exchanging laughs.
"Back off I said…" she insisted, ready to attack with her little weapon defense.
And then.
"Keep moving," said a voice from the shadows behind them.
The men froze.
From across the pavement, a tall figure stepped forward; black shirt, hands in pockets, and a stare that cut through streetlight. It was Malric.
"She said leave her," he repeated, firmer now.
The taller man scoffed, eyes narrowing. "Who even are you?"
Malric didn't answer. He took another step toward them, slow and controlled.
Vireya didn't move, dagger still in her grip, hidden but ready.
The men paused. One of them cursed under his breath and turned away. "Whatever, man."
They disappeared into the alley, their bravado shrinking in the dark.
Malric looked at her then, and his tone softened. "You alright?"
She nodded, barely.
"Put that away," he added, eyes flicking toward the dagger in her hand. "Good instincts, though."
Vireya slipped the blade back into her bag slowly.
"I don't know why you walk alone," Malric muttered. "But if you do... stay alert. Next time, they might not back off."
He turned to leave, but she called out softly, "Why are you helping me?"
Malric paused, looked over his shoulder, then simply said: "Some people still believe in being decent."
Vireya watched him from the sidewalk, breath still shallow, bag clenched in one hand like a lifeline.
Malric stepped toward her, the streetlight casting sharp lines across his face. His gaze held hers for a long moment.
"You live far?" he asked, voice low.
She hesitated. "Not really."
"Close enough to walk?"
She nodded slowly.
He looked past her toward the corner where the men had disappeared, then back again. "Let me walk you."
"You don't have to."
"I want to."
His tone wasn't pushy, just certain. And after the night she'd had, that certainty felt like safety.
Vireya adjusted her grip on her bag and offered a quiet smile. "Okay."
They started walking side by side, their steps steady against the rhythm of the sleeping city. The silence between them wasn't awkward, it gave her space to breathe.
"I don't usually need help," she said quietly after a while.
Malric glanced at her. "Nobody does. Until they do."
She looked up at him, unsure if he was just passing through her life, or becoming part of it.
Malric matched her pace as they walked, quiet for a while, both steps echoing through the sleeping streets.
Then he spoke, voice low, thoughtful. "That nightclub... Reign. Not exactly the safest place to work."
Vireya's fingers tightened around the strap of her bag. "I know."
"So why there?"
She hesitated, then sighed softly, eyes fixed ahead. "My papa's sick. Fever, chest pain, barely moves most days. The clinic won't touch him without upfront payment."
Malric glanced at her, brow furrowed.
"I tried other places," she went on. "But no one hires fast, and the pay wouldn't cover what he needs. I heard Reign pays in cash nightly. Tips, too."
He nodded slowly. "So you're doing what you can."
She shrugged, but the weight of her world was written across her posture. "I don't really have a choice."
Malric didn't respond immediately. He looked ahead, jaw tense, then said quietly, "That's not weakness."
Vireya blinked, surprised.
"It's loyalty," he added. "People forget how powerful that is."
For the first time that night, her shoulders relaxed just a little.
They kept walking in silence, but something about it felt lighter.
"Thank you for wanting to walk me home. I don't even know you or vice versa, but you have helped me get home safely. I really appreciate your help… but I don't know your name yet" Vireya calmly said looking up at Malric as he looked back at her.
"Malric. You are?"
"Oh… I'm Vireya. Blessed to meet you… I guess you live around."
"Not really. I actually left Club Reign… I saw you in there. That's why I was moved to help you tonight. You don't really fit in there to be honest, I just did what any gentleman would do in that situation. I'd advice you to get a better workplace, you're too innocent to be there. You have no idea the profiles that go there and how powerful they are… you could get involved in a lot while working there. The girls there are used to it already, but I tell you… they definitely go through a lot with those men. The pain hides beneath their smiles, and they'll never show."
This whole statement made Vireya question herself, whether she was really ready to continue working there or give up. Unfortunately, she couldn't give up even if she wanted to. Her father was too sick to pay his own debts by himself so she had to make sure she helped him get out of the problem he's in.
She continued, "(faint smile) Thanks for the advice. But… (silent for a while and proceeds) just like the other girls, I believe I'll get used to anything going on in there. I knew before I chose to work there. Uhh… I'll go fine from here, you have come this far. My house is not far from here anymore. Thank you very much once again. Goodnight."
Vireya hurriedly walked away from Malric in order to avoid more talks from him. He could see in her expressions that she didn't mean what she just said, obviously something else had her working in such a club aside her sick father. He watched till she shut the door to her house before he turned back and departed.
Vireya closed the door gently behind her, careful not to let the night's weight follow her too loudly into the house. The lights were dim. A faint breeze stirred the curtain beside the cracked window, and the sound of distant street traffic hummed like a lullaby gone wrong.
Enzo was awake. Propped up on the couch with a faded blanket around his shoulders, his eyes found her immediately.
"You're late," he said, voice raspy.
Vireya nodded, pulling off her shoes as she walked toward the tiny kitchen. "Got held up cleaning up some mess papa," she said. "Place is a madhouse."
He watched her move around quietly, then asked, "You're okay?"
"Yeah. Just tired."
She brought him a glass of water, sitting on the edge of the couch as he took it. He drank slowly, then set it down beside him. His hands still trembled a little.
"You're doing more than I ever asked," he said, voice thick. "I don't say it enough."
Vireya smiled faintly. "I know."
He cleared his throat. "Did anyone bother you tonight? Anyone get close?"
Her fingers tightened around the hem of her skirt. "Someone tried. I walked away."
Enzo's eyes flickered. "Did you use the blade?"
"No. I didn't need to." She paused. "Someone helped me."
He frowned. "Helped you?"
"A stranger. Tall guy. I don't know his name… well, actually… Malric."
Enzo sat up slightly, surprised. "He knew you?"
"No. Just saw what was happening. Walked me home afterward."
Enzo stared at her, eyes searching. "And you trusted him?"
"I don't trust anyone that easily papa," she said. "But tonight… I didn't feel afraid with him there."
Enzo was quiet for a moment. Then he sighed and leaned back again. "It's messed up, Vireya. That you even have to carry weapons, count strangers, weigh shadows."
"I'm surviving, Papa," she whispered. "Just like you did. One step at a time."
**The next morning**
The fever got worse.
Enzo barely spoke that morning. His breathing was shallow, his forehead soaked despite the cold compress Vireya kept switching every hour. She checked his pulse again, weak, skipping. She'd already used the last of their medication.
He groaned softly in his sleep, trying to turn. "Water..." he mumbled.
"I've got it," she said, easing the cup to his lips with a trembling hand.
Her shift at Club Reign started in an hour.
But she couldn't leave.
Not with Enzo burning from the inside out and the clinic still refusing to admit him without the fee paid upfront.
She sent a quick message to Marna: "I won't be in tonight. My father's really sick."
No reply.
By the third missed shift, the message came.
From a new number.
"You're off the schedule. Don't bother coming back." — M
Vireya stared at the screen, throat tight. A lump formed in her chest so large she had to sit down. Enzo was asleep again, coughing every few minutes.
She turned off her phone and folded her hands together like prayer, though she wasn't sure what to ask for anymore.
Time? Money? A miracle?
Or just strength to not fall apart.
** Days of Dust and Doors**
Vireya tried everything.
She walked from shop to stall, boutique to pharmacy. Her heels gave out somewhere near Milling Market, her voice hoarse from polite greetings. No one was hiring. Or they didn't trust her experience. Or they had a cousin already lined up.
By week three, she took a job sorting papers at a roadside kiosk. It paid barely enough for medicine, and not even close to enough for the clinic fee or Rael's looming demand.
She applied at a cleaning service. Rejected.
She waited tables at a small restaurant for two nights, then quit when a drunk customer grabbed her waist and laughed about his bill.
Every morning started with hope. Every night ended with her hands curled around a calculator and numbers that didn't add up.
Enzo worsened. His cough became constant, his skin pale. He stopped talking much. Mostly just slept and asked for water.
The bag with her dagger stayed packed beside the door. Not for club shifts anymore. Just in case the knock came early.
** One Month Later — The Call**
It was raining when the call came in.
Vireya was in the kitchen, trying to boil water over the weak flame of their old gas burner. The screen of her papa's phone lit up silently beside the window.
**Rael – Incoming Call**
She stared at it for a full ten seconds. The water hissed behind her.
Then she picked it up.
She didn't say hello.
Rael's voice slipped in like a cold draft. "Time's up."
She closed her eyes. "I know."
"Are you ready?"
She didn't answer.
"Because I don't wait past agreement," he continued. "And I don't enjoy surprises."
"I did everything I could," she whispered.
"No one cares about 'could'," he replied, voice sharper now. "You had your month. Now it's collection time."
He hung up.
Vireya stood still, phone in hand, breath unsteady.
There were no more days left.
Just consequences.
Enzo stirred from the couch just as Vireya lowered the phone, her hand still trembling. The soft clink of the boiling pot behind her couldn't drown out the weight of the silence that followed.
He squinted toward her. "Who was that?"
She turned slowly, smoothing the edge of the curtain to buy herself a second of calm. "Nobody papa," she said, voice tight. "Just one of those pharmacy lines. I asked them about a cheaper antibiotic."
Enzo blinked slowly, too drained to press harder. "Did they say anything useful?"
"No," she lied. "Still need the same payment upfront."
He nodded faintly and sank deeper into the cushions. "It'll be alright. We'll figure it out."
Vireya didn't answer. She moved to stir the boiling water, the steam misting her face, like it could hide the truth for just a little longer.
In her mind, the clock was already counting backward.
**Unfortunate last hours**
The neighborhood had never seen cars like these.
Six of them pulled up, sleek, black, polished like fangs. Their engines growled low before cutting into silence. The morning sun hadn't fully risen, but the shade they cast was deliberate, menacing.
Vireya stepped out of the bedroom just as the first fist hit the door.
*Boom.*
Enzo stirred on the couch, eyes dazed, fevered. "What is that?"
Before she could speak, the door splintered inward.
Six men flooded inside, all black suits, boots that thudded like thunder. One grabbed Enzo by the collar with no hesitation.
"Where's the payment, old man?" someone snapped.
"Stop!" Vireya screamed, rushing forward. "He's sick! Let him go!"
The man shoved Enzo back down, causing a sharp, wet cough to rip from his chest.
Vireya dropped to her knees beside him, shielding him with her body. "Please! Please stop… he's not well! We don't have it!"
A figure stepped into the broken doorway then. Calm. Silent.
Rael.
His gaze swept the room once, then settled coldly on Vireya. Recognition sparked.
Her face. The club. That voice.
"You," he said, slowly.
She looked up, tears streaking her cheeks. "Please… don't hurt him."
Rael stared, calculating. "You're Enzo's daughter?"
She nodded.
Rael turned toward Enzo, who lay crumpled on the couch like a collapsed monument. "Was this your plan? Send your daughter in as the bait?"
"Don't speak to him like that!" Vireya snapped, rising to her feet.
Rael moved fast, grabbing her wrist, not harsh, but firm enough to freeze her.
"You owe me," he hissed. "And now I see what you tried to protect."
She yanked her arm free, tears blinding her. "I tried to pay. I worked. I begged. I just couldn't do enough."
Rael stared at her, breathing hard. The room seemed to hold its breath.
"You don't get to beg anymore," he said coldly. "You get to answer."
Rael's eyes moved slowly between father and daughter like he was inspecting merchandise.
"She's your daughter," he said flatly. "And my favor's run out."
Enzo coughed violently, clutching his side, the sound rattling like gravel in his lungs.
Rael ignored it. "You owe six million, Enzo. And today, we settle. You get two choices."
He held up two fingers, calm but lethal.
"One," he said, "I take you. You'll work it off the dirty way. You won't survive a month, but maybe I'll let that corpse pay for something."
Enzo stiffened, lifting his chin with frail dignity.
"Or two... I take her."
Rael's eyes landed on Vireya, no pretense this time. Just cold intent.
"She's healthy. Useful. I'll make the six million in weeks."
Enzo pushed himself upright, breath wheezing. "Take me," he rasped. "She's got nothing to do with this."
Rael smiled without humor. "She already has everything to do with this."
"I said I'll go!" Enzo barked, voice cracking.
Vireya stepped forward. Her hands trembled but her voice didn't.
"No," she said.
Both men turned.
"You can't… " Enzo began.
"I am already part of this," Vireya interrupted. "They came for you because of me. I made promises. I'm the one who begged for time."
Rael tilted his head, curious now.
"I'll go with you," she said, eyes full of tears but unflinching. "You want payment? You've had my soul on hold for a month. Just take it."
Enzo choked. "Vireya, no… please."
She turned to him. "You won't survive a day in their hands papa. I can survive weeks."
Rael stepped forward, the air colder around him.
"She's yours then?" one of the men asked.
Rael looked Vireya in the eyes. "She made herself mine."
Rael stepped back, silent for just a beat, like disappointment was simmering under his cold exterior.
Then his voice snapped like a whip.
"Put her in the car."
Vireya froze. "Wait… no!"
Two of his men advanced without hesitation, gripping her arms.
"Let me go!" she screamed, kicking wildly. "I said I'd come with you… I didn't say like this!"
She was lifted and taken out of the house.
Rael's luxury black sedan waited at the curb like a predator, rear door open, leather interior gleaming.
Enzo pushed himself up on trembling elbows. "Don't touch her! Please… she said yes!"
Rael didn't even glance at her.
He walked slowly toward Enzo, footsteps echoing. Then he crouched down beside the old man, staring at the illness hollowing him out.
"You were warned," Rael said softly. "You lied. You ran. And then you let her burn for you."
Enzo tried to speak, but coughed instead, a wet, rattling choke that curled his body.
Rael's jaw flexed. And without a word more, his fist snapped forward, burying itself in Enzo's ribs.
Vireya screamed from the car. "Please don't hurt papa!"
Rael stood slowly, eyes cold. "That's for month one."
He dusted off his knuckles and turned toward the car, signaling two of his men to come to him immediately.
"Slit his throat and throw him in the lake behind the house. Be fast about it and catch up with me on the way." Rael ordered the men and confidently walked out to his car.
"Start driving," he ordered.
The door slammed shut.
Vireya sobbed against the window, her father was all alone, she thought. Unknown to her that he was going to be killed and disposed off even after she was taken to pay off his debts.
Time wasn't hers anymore.
Rael had taken it, and now, he was taking everything.