Page 54 of Debt of My Soul

Blitz’s laugh slithers through the room, landing at the base of my neck, and I reach up palming the raised hairs there. “Who knows, D. He may just enjoy our world.”

We leave with my promise to meet Darrin tomorrow, and I cringe as I make the drive to my grandparents’ house with Adam. I dictate how everything is going to happen, and he doesn’t fight me on it. Probably too stunned to disagree even if he wanted to.

We’re keeping our parents out of this. I’m taking him to see my grandparents not only to get him cleaned up but also because I demand he tell them. To be honest about how he gambled away his portion of his inheritance all on cheap thrills and a dopamine hit.

The tension in his twitchy face means he doesn’t want to, but Adam doesn’t have to spend the next six years of his life having sold his soul to the devil. The least he can do is apologize to them.

We spend the night filling in our grandparents, and my grandmother takes Adam to get cleaned up while my grandfather sits pointedly across from the kitchen table, his gaze fixed on the pond in the backdrop.

“If there was something I could do …” he says. It’s not a question, more like a wish. As if he flipped a penny into the water to make it.

“No,” I answer flatly. One grandson already pawned away part of his legacy. I wouldn’t—couldn’t—take more from them already.

My grandfather doesn’t say anything else. He only stands and places a hand on my shoulder, offering it a knead before moving out of the room. Before he reaches the door, he turns back. “You’re a good man, Liam. Don’t lose sight of that.” Histone is even and unwavering, and once he’s out of the room, I snort to myself—the realization of what I’ve done dawning on me.

“Not for long,” I mutter in response.

The text messages from Ford keep filtering in, but I ignore each one.

Where are you, man? Want to grab a beer?

Dude, you missed a hell of a night!

You sick? We had insane tactical training today. They say tests are happening Friday.

Yo where are you? No one has heard from you. Can you at least tell me you’re okay?

Screw you, Liam. They officially kicked you out of the program. Hope it’s worth it.

I ditch my coffee cup in the trash as I delete the message thread and open the email from the academy, officially dismissing me from the program. I sigh, the weight of this making my shoulders slump.

A car approaches and Darrin rolls up next to where I wait outside the Ruin coffee shop.

“Get in.”

Chapter 22

Fleur

Spiral coils dig into my back. The impressions they leave are barely inhibited by the thin blanket I laid over them.

I lay there staring at the ceiling after they returned me to the cell several hours ago, considering the information Darrin shared.

Images of Adam pressed against the wall at Liam’s hand flicker behind my closed eyelids. His anger was palpable that day, and now I comprehend why. I’d be furious if I had to work off someone else’s debt for six years while they were out buying new trucks and still gambling their money away.

Is that what he was doing with all the money I paid him?

Adam made it clear from the beginning he was struggling financially. In what world is he going to come up with the new amount he owes? And for me—I’m not so sure.

A warm tear drips from the corner of my eye and slides down my temple into the arm tucked behind my head. I’m so stupid. Are all men hiding dark parts of themselves? Using me for their own personal agenda until something better comes along. Perhaps it’s just me. I’m gullible.

I snort and worry with the rubber bands at my wrist.

The echo of the hallway’s door rattles the iron bars keeping me locked away, and footsteps sound down the hall—the stride of whoever it is long and heavy.

I scramble up, pressing my back into the wall where the cot meets cement. A weak hiss escapes my mouth as a broken spring scrapes my back.

Liam’s towering figure steps into view. His hair is pulled back, and his eyes dart to the cot, then to the five-gallon bucket they sent me back here with. It’s the only place I have to relieve myself and I’ve done so, despite having no food or water. Because there’s no lid, the smell wafts through the cell and he wrinkles his nose.

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