“But don’t mistake my patience for weakness. Iownyou. I own every dollar you make, every hour you work, and every breath you take until that number hits zero. And you’re never going to make it hit zero. You know that, right?”
My teeth grind together. I wish I had the strength to slap him. “The payment isn’t due until next week,” I gasp the reminder. “You know that... right?”
He laughs, taunting me. “I do. But you don’t have a job anymore. And I’m wondering, how exactly are you planning to make that payment?”
“I’ll figure it out.”
“Will you?” His free hand comes up and pushes a strand of hair behind my ear. It makes my skin crawl. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re running out of options. You sold the car. That bought you — what — a month? Two?”
“I said, I’ll figure it out.”
A snarl threatens to twist my lips. I could bite his forearm right now, dig my teeth into his flesh and cause him a fraction of the pain he’s caused me.
But at what cost?
“Or,” he continues, and his voice drops, “you could come home. Let me take care of it. All of it. You know the offer still stands.”
I know what he’s suggesting. He’s been suggesting it for a year now, ever since the payments started getting harder and the amounts started getting bigger.Come back to me. Be with me.
Be mine, and the debt disappears.
As if being with him isn’t its own kind of prison. As if the trade wouldn’t cost me more than the debt ever could.
“No.”
“Ellie—”
“I said no, Landon.”
He’s quiet for a moment. His hand is still on my throat. I feel my pulse beating against his palm, fast and terrified. I know he feels it too.
I know he revels in it.
Then he laughs. Again.
It makes my blood boil.
“Okay.”
Just like that, he releases me and steps back.
I stumble forward, catching myself against the railing. My hand immediately goes to my throat where his fingers were. The skin is hot, and I still feel the shape of his grip like a brand.
I turn around. He’s standing in the shadow where thestreetlight should be buzzing. Tall, well-dressed, hands casually tucked in his pockets.
His face is the same, dark eyes and heavy beard, but his red hair has recently been cut, which only highlights his unpleasantness.
“But Ellie?” He tilts his head, smiling. “I’m adjusting the terms. As of today, the minimum goes up. Twenty percent. Consider it a... motivational adjustment.” He straightens his cuffs. “And if you’re late — even one day — I stop being patient. You understand what that means.”
I understand. I understand plenty.
“You can leave now,” I hiss.
He shrugs. “I’ll be around.”
And with that, he turns and walks away. Unhurried. Like he has all the time in the world.
And he does. He has all the time in the world, and I have none.
