Debts and Desire

Chapter 2

My brain finally listens to itself.

Run.

My body jerks into motion before I can think. I spin around and rush for the door, my fingers fumbling for the handle. I yank it hard.

It doesn’t move.

I pull again.

Still nothing.

Locked.

My breath comes faster now, shallow and shaky. I twist the handle again, harder this time, like brute force might magically fix the situation.

Behind me, the woman sighs.

Not annoyed.

Amused.

“You really should have come inside sooner,” she says calmly. “Waiting four hours in a car was… unnecessary.”

I slowly turn around.

My heart pounds so loudly I’m sure she can hear it.

“W-what are you?” I whisper.

The woman smiles again, those sharp white fangs catching the dim restaurant light.

She laughs softly, tilting her head.

“That’s a complicated question for a first meeting,” she says. “But we’ll get to it. your husband went through so much trouble to arrange this meeting.”

My stomach drops.

“My… husband?”

“Yes.”

She walks toward me slowly, her heels making soft clicking sounds against the tile floor. Every step feels deliberate, like she knows I have nowhere left to run.

“You said you were waiting for him,” she continues. “Bryant, wasn’t it?”

A cold wave rolls through my chest.

“How do you know his name?”

Her smile widens.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she says gently.

“He told me.”

My head shakes before I even realize I’m doing it.

“No,” I whisper. “No, he wouldn’t—”

The woman stops a few feet away from me, studying my face like she’s examining a piece of art.

“Humans,” she murmurs. “Always so hopeful.”

Her dark eyes lift to meet mine again.

“Bryant was very clear,” she says.

The words that come next feel like knives sliding slowly into my chest.

“You are his payment.”

The room tilts.

“That’s not funny,” I say quickly, the words tumbling out too fast. “You’re lying. He— he told me to meet him here. He’s probably just late or—”

“Oh, he’s not late.”

Her voice is smooth as silk.

“He’s exactly where he intended to be tonight.”

I shake my head again.

“No. Bryant wouldn’t—”

“He owes a great deal of money,” she interrupts calmly.

My throat tightens.

“And unfortunately,” she continues, “he didn’t have the means to repay it.”

Her eyes move slowly over me.

“But he did have something… valuable.”

My hands start trembling.

“You’re lying,” I say again, but the words sound weaker this time.

The woman watches me carefully.

Then she sighs.

“You really didn’t know,” she says quietly.

For a moment, her expression almost looks sympathetic.

Almost.

Then she reaches into the pocket of her coat and pulls out something small.

My stomach drops the second I see it.

My phone charger.

The one that stays plugged in beside our bed.

She holds it up between two fingers.

“Bryant left this earlier,” she says.

My chest feels like it’s collapsing in on itself.

“He said you’d forget to charge your phone.”