I don’t wait for him to decide. I turn, pulling my hood up over my head and head straight for the door.
Inside, it’s dead quiet—just an older guy with glasses behind a desk, buried in paperwork. I approach, stopping in front of him, but he doesn’t acknowledge me, doesn’t even glance up.
I clear my throat, and he finally peers over his glasses at me for a second, then looks back down.
“Number.”
I tug my sleeves lower, swallowing thickly.
“2658,” I say that numbers that are burned into memory like a scar I can’t forget.
He taps on his keyboard, frowning, then sighs—and just like that, my stomach sinks.
“You haven’t paid for two years. You owe $1,476.”
I square my shoulders, heart sinking before my gaze drops to his name tag, hoping if I use it, he might be swayed.
“Well, I’m sorry, Ralph. I don’t have that right now.” I slide my hand into my pocket, pull out the crumpled bills Hell gave me, and place them on the desk. “But I have this. I can get the rest soon.”
He takes the money, counting each bill with slow fingers, before shaking his head and sliding it into his drawer.
“No can do. You need to pay in full. Your account’s way overdue, and we’re close to disposing your belongings.”
“But you haven’t yet, have you?” My voice spikes, panic crawling into it.
“Not yet, no.”
“Well, I need access to that locker today. I only need my phone. That’s it—just my phone. I’ve been locked away… I’ve been…”
“Oh, so you’re not only a freeloader, but you’re a criminal as well? Look, you need to pay in full.”
The accusations hit me with a smack and my head pulls back as my face twists in disbelief.
“Freeloader? Criminal?” I seethe. “You’re holding my things hostage, and I’ve offered you a down payment. That’s not fucking freeloading.”
He leans over the desk, his smug face inching closer, and I scowl, resisting the urge to punch him.
“No,” he breathes, the word final, thick with condescension.
But then the door swings open behind me, and I don’t even need to look, I already know it’s him.
My eyes close briefly and when I glance over my shoulder, Wrath ducks under the doorway, slipping inside like he owns the place. The door shuts behind him, and the uncomfortable silence is punctuated by his click of the lock.
He just stands there—tall, quiet and radiating the sort of danger that shoots a thrill through me. He looks… strange in the normal everyday world. But no less scary. If anything it’s far worse.
The guy behind the desk laughs, a dismissive sound, and I flash my wide gaze back to him, wondering if he has an actual death wish.
“You thought a Halloween performer would intimidate me?” he says with a snort, waving his hands out in front of him. “I’m not budging. Like I said—no freeloaders. No criminals. Get the fuck out or I’ll call the cops.”
Suddenly, something whips past my head, moving with lightning speed before embedding itself deep into the guy’s forehead with a sickening crack.
My heart lurches in my throat as I flinch, eyes expanded, watching as he stands frozen, gaze locked in death, before crumpling to the ground with a heavy thud.
I barely have time to process it before I hear the sound of Wrath’s heavy boots moving toward me. My breath catches as he lifts me effortlessly, like I’m nothing more than a doll and places me on the other side of the desk, away from the spreading pool of blood.
My eyes stay glued to lifeless Ralph sprawled on the floor as Wrath steps over with eerie calmness before crouching down next to him. His hand moves with a casual brutality, tearing a black metal ace card from the man’s forehead with a stomach-turning scrape.
“We should get out of here… the cops…” I stammer, my voice revealing the terror scratching at my insides.
