"You brought coffee to a sit-down with men who've killed for less than the disrespect you just showed them."
"Killed?" The word squeaks out.
"Those men came here to discuss territory. To decide who controls what and what happens to people who cross lines." His voice drops to a whisper. "They were deciding whether people live or die, and you walked in uninvited offering them goddamn pastries."
I stare up at him, the full implications starting to sink in. "Are you saying they're—"
"I'm saying you just interrupted a conversation that could've ended with bodies in the harbor." His eyes are deadly serious. "And your little coffee service might've saved lives or gotten people killed. We won't know which until later. Jesus Christ, Madison! What were you thinking?"
"Oh God." My voice comes out as barely a whisper. "Did I make it worse?"
Something flickers across his face. "They were pushing boundaries they shouldn't push. Your interruption gave me a reason to end the meeting before anyone said something that couldn't be taken back."
"Maybe I helped then?" I’m trying to save this situation as best I can.
"You got lucky. This time." His face is inches from mine. "Next time, you might not walk out of a room like that. Never pull a stunt like this ever again. Do you understand?"
I try to process this information, but it's like my brain is trying to understand a foreign language. "You're really saying those men kill people? Like, for real?"
"I'm saying this isn't your world. You think everybody's basically good. You think offering people food will make them like you." His voice turns harsh. "That kind of thinking will get you hurt here. They tolerated your interruption only because I allowed it. Not because they liked you. If I’d frowned, if I’d nodded once, they would’ve dragged you out into the street and done God knows what to you."
He's right. All of it. I do think those things.
"Then tell me what kind of world this is here," I say quietly. "Help me understand. Because you’re right, I’m nice. I smile a lot, I’m friendly. It’s an American thing and I can’t help it. I also talk too much, to everyone."
"Fucking hell! You don't want to understand this fucking world."
"Maybe not. But I'm stuck in it, aren't I? Because of that idiotic debt."
Something dangerous shifts in his expression. "You're stuck because you got nowhere else to go. No money, no family help, no way home."
The blunt truth of it makes me flinch.
"Teach me the rules then," I say. "If I'm going to survive here, I need to know how things work."
He stares at me for a long moment, something unreadable in his eyes.
"Rule one," he says finally. "In this world, power is everything. I have all the power and you have none."
"Because of the debt?"
"Because you're in my territory, under my protection whether you like it or not, with nowhere to run." His thumb traces along the wall next to my face. "Everything you do, everywhere you go, everyone you talk to, that's my business now."
The possessiveness in his voice should terrify me. Instead, it sends heat spiraling through my body.
"Rule two," he continues. "Respect isn’t earned through kindness here. It's earned through strength. And the fear of consequences."
"What kind of consequences?"
"The kind that make people disappear."
The casual way he says it makes my breath catch.
"And rule three," he says, his voice dropping to almost a whisper. "Every choice you make from now on affects whether you live or die. Including walking into my office uninvited."
"Isn’t that a little over-the-top for a mid-morning coffee break? I was trying to do something nice."
He lets out a tired sigh and steps back, leaving me cold against the wall.
