"Paid"
993 Words
I took the proof of Dad's surgery and hospital payment out of Cassiel's hand. Seeing the word "PAID" stamped across the page made my whole body tremble.
It was that simple—someone had paid for it. Even if it cost me my life.
Yes, in the end, I agreed to Cassiel's terms. He was my only hope. And Cassiel kept his promise.
I tried to look at it positively like Dad always does.
Maybe God sent me an angel—a really grumpy one. Then again, perhaps this was the devil's offer, binding me forever.
Either way, at least Dad had a chance to live now.
"Thank you," I whispered, my voice caught somewhere between grief, relief, and disbelief.
"Stay with your father through the surgery and recovery," Cassiel said, bending down so that our eyes were level. "After that, you belong to me."
"What if I run away?"
"I'll find you. Finding a needle in a haystack is harder." His confidence left me speechless. "Do you really think you can run from me?" he emphasized.
I shook my head. "I won't run. That was just a passing thought."
"I'll hold you to that."
"Okay."
Cassiel handed me a credit card. I frowned, looking at him in confusion.
"What's this for?"
"Guarantee. Use it for food, vitamins, or any other purpose you may need. I won't allow someone who belongs to me to starve. I don't want you to die from exhaustion. You have to live—and stay healthy—for me. Understand?"
It wasn't a small gesture.
His words struck a chord deep within me, and I suddenly felt like breaking down and crying. He cared about that? We were practically strangers!
"Thank you," I nodded quietly.
Cassiel turned and left without another word. I just stood there in the corridor, caught somewhere between disbelief and confusion.
This was happening. All of it. I still wasn't sure what giving my life to Cassiel really meant, but surely it had to be better than being owned by Mr. Sullivan.
Ugh.
Except I was already involved with Mr. Sullivan.
How the hell was I going to get away from him now?
Dad would kill me if he knew I was involved with the kingpin of South Balmoral.
This was a mess. Everything was a disaster. Clearly, my problems weren't over yet.
I made my way to the ICU, passing the waiting area for patients, where a few people were watching TV.
"...with the arrival of Cassiel—nicknamed the Brutal Wolf—this year's MotoGP promises to be one of the most intense yet. It kicks off with the Grand Prix Cup. The qualifiers will take place right here in Balmoral…"
My eyes reflexively shot to the TV screen. Cassiel's photo was right there, broadcast live to the entire room.
Oh, crap!
So Cassiel was a motorcycle racer? A MotoGP athlete?!
*
'Cassiel Smith, a 20-year-old racer with promising skills. His MotoGP career isn't well-known in Moto3 and Moto2, but he made his debut six months ago and quickly caught the public's attention.'
I didn't finish reading the article; it was just one of many that I found online. They all said nearly the same thing: there was no detailed backstory about Cassiel Smith.
Even his surname, Smith, was considered too common. It seemed very ordinary yet suspicious to me.
I placed Dad's phone on the nightstand and let out a long sigh. I was exhausted, and thinking about Cassiel only made my headache worse.
My gaze shifted to Dad, who still hadn't regained consciousness but had made it past the critical phase. That was enough for now.
All that mattered was that he would wake up and recover. I'd just have to live with being Cassiel's servant.
I stepped out of the room for some fresh air but saw Ray rushing toward me. He opened his arms, and in that moment, my anger toward him melted into gratitude.
We shared a brief hug.
"As soon as I heard about Jacob, I came right over," Ray said after pulling back. He wiped away tears. "Praise the Lord, Jacob made it through surgery."
"We still have to wait for Dad to wake up and recover. These are hard days, too, Ray. The fight isn't over."
"Don't worry. I'll help you."
"I should go home. I haven't changed since yesterday." I glanced down at my disheveled clothes. "Probably since two days ago."
Ray froze, his face pale. "Lune, what do you need? I can go get your stuff and bring it here."
"What's going on, Ray?"
"I heard Mr. Sullivan's men are looking for you." Ray lowered his voice and glanced around nervously. "Did you make a deal with him?"
Damn it!
There was no deal, so why was Mr. Sullivan after me? Was it because of what Cassiel did at the club last night?
I shook my head. "I did meet with Mr. Sullivan, but..."
"Oh my God, Lune! What were you thinking?" Ray cut me off.
"I had to! But nothing happened between me and Mr. Sullivan."
"Okay, okay. Let's make sure Jacob doesn't find out. Either that or we'll find a safe place for you both. How much did you borrow from Mr. Sullivan?"
I shook my head again. "I didn't borrow any money. There was no deal. Then why is he looking for me?"
"I don't know. That's just the word going around. His men are supposedly hanging around the garage and your apartment."
What the hell?!
"That is absurd! I have no business with him," I said firmly.
"Yeah, maybe you should lay low for a while."
I had to agree with Ray. I didn't tell him what happened at Demoniquid—how it turned into a disaster. But how do I fix this so that Mr. Sullivan stops messing with me and my dad?
Should I talk to him? If this drags on, things will only get worse.
- Writer
