Chapter 8

Chapter 8

ALLESIA

I didn’t like schools anymore than I liked books.

Maybe that explained why the university library's massive oak doors felt heavier than usual. I pulled it anyway and stepped inside, scanning frantically for Renzo among the study tables.

My phone had vibrated with his urgent text during my lesson, and I'd bolted mid-class without a second thought. Fuck them lessons.

I found him in the back corner, hunched over his laptop, face illuminated by the blue glow of the screen. The way his shoulders dropped told me everything before he even looked up.

"What's wrong? Your text said it was an emergency," I whispered, sliding into the chair across from him.

Renzo glanced around to ensure no one was listening before turning his laptop toward me. On the screen was an email with an attachment—financial records from our family account.

"Everything is getting fucking doubled," he said, voice low. "The insurance is refusing to cover Mum's new treatment protocol. Something about it being 'experimental.'"

I felt the blood drain from my face. "How much?"

"Ninety thousand for the first six months." He ran his fingers through his already disheveled hair. "Plus we still have the mortgage payment due next week, and my tuition installment..."

"And your scholarship only covers half the expenses this semester," I added with an exaggerated sigh.

Renzo nodded grimly. "We're underwater, Les. Completely."

I pulled out my phone, quickly calculating what remained of my savings from that night at the bar. "I can contribute about fifty thousand from my emergency fund, but that's—"

"Not nearly enough." Renzo closed his laptop with a soft click. "And that's not all. Remember those men who came looking for Dad's debts last year?"

A chill ran down my spine. "The collection agency?"

"They weren't from any agency." His eyes met mine, dark with worry. "I did some digging. They work for one of those fucked up families we’d spent the last years running from."

"As in... a crime family?" My voice dropped to barely above a breath.

He nodded. "Dad owed them money. A lot of it. And they've tracked us down. Looks like the whole cover thing is getting blown right in our fucking face.”

The library lights suddenly seemed too bright, too exposing. "Is that why you wanted to meet here instead of at home?"

"Mom received a letter this morning. That's why she called me in such a panic." Renzo pulled a crumpled envelope from his jacket pocket. "They've given us two weeks to pay what Dad owed, plus five years of interest."

I took the letter with trembling hands, scanning the contents. The amount at the bottom made my stomach turn. "This is impossible. We can't possibly—"

"I know." Renzo leaned forward. "And there's more. Mom doesn't know this part yet, but they've been watching our house. I spotted a black sedan parked across the street last night, same one that was there three days ago."

My mind raced through our options, each one more desperate than the last. "We could sell the house?"

"It would take weeks to close, and we'd still be underwater on the mortgage."

"What about your friend Pa—?” Rolled his eyes and I swallowed the words, then frowned. “I mean, his family has connections—"

"Already asked. They can't help with this kind of money." Renzo looked defeated, something I rarely saw in my fiercely protective older brother.

I hesitated, my fingers absently tracing patterns on the wooden table. "There is... one possibility."

Renzo raised an eyebrow. "What?"

The memory of that night in the nice house where I'd first encountered Russel Mancini flashed through my mind. His cold blue eyes, the way he'd assessed me like I was a commodity rather than a person. And then, hours later, his appearance at the bar where I worked, with that outrageous proposition.

"Russel Mancini," I said, the name feeling like a forbidden spell on my lips.

Renzo's eyes widened. "The Capo from the bar that night? What about him?"

I swallowed hard. "I didn't tell you everything about that night. I actually met him earlier that day at his place where I was filling in for Elletra. He... made me an offer."

“You went to his place?”

“For work.” I stated. “And that was before I knew him or what he does.”

"What kind of offer did he make?" Renzo's voice hardened.

"Three million dollars. For one night with him." The words hung between us like smoke.

Renzo's face darkened. "That entitled son of a—"

"I turned him down," I added quickly. "But with everything that's happening..."

"No." Renzo's response was immediate, firm. "Absolutely not. We'll find another way."

"What other way, Ren?" I gestured to the financial statements still visible on his screen. "We need money—a lot of it—and we need it fast."

"So you're considering prostituting yourself to the same guys you warned me to stay away from?" His voice rose slightly, earning us a stern look from the librarian.

I flinched at his bluntness. "That's not fair. I'm trying to keep us alive."

Renzo's expression softened. "I know, Les. I'm sorry." He reached across the table, taking my hand. "But there has to be another solution. What about that job offer from that downtown research firm?"

"That's only thirty thousand for the entire semester." I shook my head. "And it would mean dropping two classes."

We sat in silence for a moment, our heads running over every possibility possible. The most coherent thought in my mind was a single question; why did some people have to have it easy and others didn’t?

The library hummed with the quiet sounds of students studying, completely unaware of the life-or-death conversation happening just feet away.

"What about Nikolai?" Renzo suggested suddenly.

"What about him?"

"He bailed us out of that police mess last week. He clearly has resources, and he's obviously interested in you."

I scoffed. "I barely know him. And I'm not going to use some guy's crush to solve our problems."

"It's better than Mancini's offer," Renzo countered.

"We are not bringing Nikolai into this," I said firmly. "Or anyone else, for that matter. This is our problem."

Renzo sighed, then straightened up suddenly. "Wait. Well, thinking from now till tomorrow is not going to solve any problem, is it? We’ll only end up with a terrible headache and shit pile of trouble. Wait. Didn’t Mum say Dad had a safe somewhere? Maybe there's something valuable inside."

"The same safe that got burnt down alongside his other stuff after he died?" I frowned.

"Not all of it burned. The back storage room was mostly intact. We just never had a reason to go back there."

A flicker of hope sparked within me. "Do you know the combination?"

"No, but Mom might. And if not..." A ghost of a smile appeared on his face. "I did learn a few things about breaking into locked spaces during my rebellious phase."

For the first time since receiving his text, I felt a tiny sense of possibility. "When do we go?"

"Tonight." Renzo began packing up his things. "After dark. The property's abandoned, but those crooked money guys might be watching it too. We'll need to be careful."

As we prepared to leave, my phone vibrated with an incoming call. The screen displayed a number I didn't recognize, but the area code belonged to the wealthy district across town.

I showed it to Renzo, whose eyes narrowed. "Don't answer it."

But something told me I should. "Hello?"

"Hello, angel." The smooth, self-assured voice on the other end sent a shiver down my spine. "That’s a nice little blue dress you have on there."

My eyes frantically scanned the whole library, but all I could see as far as my eyes could go was just zealous students invested in their books.

How the hell did he know what I was wearing?

I locked eyes with Renzo, mouthing the name silently: "Mancini."

His eyes widened. “What the fuck does he want?”

I quickly put a hand to his mouth. “Shh.” I then moved away from Renzo, but he followed me anyway. I groaned and still gestured with my hand for him to not say anything. I cleared my throat. “How did you get my number?”

“Come on,” I could tell he was grinning. “That’s the least thing you should be worried about.”

“What do you want?”

“You know what I want.”

“And you’re never getting it. Now stop calling my phone or I’ll make sure I report you to the authorities. I bet a lawsuit is not the kind of fun you enjoy.”

He laughed. The bastard actually laughed. I wanted to say something else when Renzo snatched the phone from and next thing I knew, he was yelling into the receiver.

“Stay the fuck away from my sister!” He hissed. “You fucking pervert. I’lll report you as a fucking ritualist if you ever bother her again and stop stalking her!”

He ended the call abruptly and even I stood rooted to the spot, shocked and scared.

“That was too much.” I said slowly.

“No, it wasn’t.” Renzo hissed. “These guys thrive on weakness and if you keep entertaining his foolishness, he’ll take it for weakness and do more.”

Just then, the librarian, a stern looking woman walked up to us and without a word, she gestured for us to leave. I turned, only to find every pair of eyes in the room on us.

“Damn it.”

I rolled my eyes. “We were leaving anyway.”

Just as we made for the door, my phone beeped. A text. When I glanced at the screen, my heart dropped to my stomach.