“Selene,” the voice thundered from the hallway, rough and slurred. “Where’s my fucking rent?”

Mr. Garvey.

Of all the goddamn times.

Selene dragged herself into view, hair damp from the steam of the bathroom. “I—I don’t have it yet.” Her voice cracked as she tried to stand taller, tried to look less like prey.

Garvey’s lip curled into a cruel smile. “Not what I asked. I said, where is it?”

Her throat tightened. “We just need a few more days. Please. I’ll get it.”

“That’s what you said last month,” he snarled, stomping inside without invitation, slamming the door shut with his boot. “And the month before that. And the month before that.”

“I’m trying—”

“Try harder.” He jabbed a thick finger at her chest. His sweat reeked of whiskey and grease. “Or maybe I start charging interest the same way those boys you’re screwing around with do.”

Her jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he spat, leaning close enough she caught the sourness on his breath. “Maybe it’s time I get my payment some other way. You and that useless brother been squattin’ here long enough. You wanna stay? Then pay up. One way or another.”

Rage surged through her. Her fists clenched. “Get out.”

Garvey laughed, a sound more animal than man. “You got balls, girl. No money, but balls.”

Her voice snapped, sharp and feral. “I said get the fuck out.”

For a second, his expression twisted into something darker, hungrier. Then, with a scoff, he turned toward the door.

“You got until Friday,” he growled, hand on the knob. “Then I change the locks. You wanna freeze in the snow again, be my guest.”

The slam of the door rattled the walls.

And Selene broke.

Her knees hit the floor, hands covering her face, silent sobs shaking her body until she could hardly breathe. Alone again. Screwed again. And now—another countdown ticking toward ruin.

She stayed like that for a long time, staring at the peeling linoleum until her tears dried into burning tracks on her skin. Finally, she pushed herself up, muscles aching, and moved to the couch. Her broken phone lay there like a mocking reminder of everything she couldn’t fix.

She pressed the cracked screen. One ring. Two. Then—

“This number is not reachable.”

Selene’s jaw clenched. “You better not be dead, Jasper,” she muttered, voice low, half fury, half desperate prayer.

She tossed the useless thing aside, dropped her bag, and stumbled into the bathroom. A shower. That’s all she had left.

The water was lukewarm, barely a trickle, but it washed away the grime of the day. For a second—just a second—she let herself imagine a life without debt collectors, without Garvey, without Jasper’s endless disasters.

Then—

Thud.

The apartment door banged open.

Her heart skipped. She froze, soap sliding down her skin.

“Jasper?” she called, cautious.

A pause. Then his voice, casual, almost smug: “Yeah. It’s me.”

Relief rushed through her. She exhaled hard. “You scared me. I thought you—” She stopped, swallowing her pride. “I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to go off like that.”

No answer. Just the flick of a lighter. The acrid burn of cigarette smoke slipped under the door.

Selene sneezed, coughing. “Jasper! Don’t smoke in the house!”

Silence.

She twisted the shower knobs off, grabbed her towel, and yanked at the bathroom door. It didn’t budge. She frowned, tried again, harder. Nothing.

“What the hell…” she muttered, banging on it. “Jasper? The door’s stuck!”

On the other side, Jasper smirked, slipping her schoolbag onto his lap. His fingers rifled through notes, textbooks—until he found crisp, folded bills. Her rent money. Five hundred dollars.

He grinned, tucking it into his pocket. “Relax,” he called, his tone almost cheerful. “Just hang tight.”

Her frown deepened. “What do you mean, hang tight?”

He didn’t answer. His phone buzzed instead. Without hesitation, he swiped and hit speaker.

“You ready?” a gruff voice asked. “Got another job lined up. Easy twenty grand. You in?”

Selene’s chest tightened.

Jasper’s grin widened. “Hell yeah. Just scored five hundred too. I’m on my way.”

Selene froze. Her blood turned to ice.

“You see?” the man on the line said. “Scamming’s not hard. Just gotta be ruthless, brother.”

Her fists pounded the door. “JASPER! OPEN THIS DOOR! NOW!”

Jasper chuckled, exhaling smoke. “What’s the magic word?”

“YOU SON OF A BITCH!” Her voice cracked with fury and fear. “Open it or I swear I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” His tone dropped, cruel. “Hit me again? Lecture me about being responsible? Save it, Selene.”

Her voice wavered, breaking. “You can’t do this. You’re my brother.”

His laughter was hollow, bitter. He leaned close to the door, voice low. “Exactly. And family makes sacrifices. Isn’t that what you always preach?”

Her chest caved. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying…” He inhaled deeply, savoring the moment. “You’re my ticket out. The loan sharks offered twenty grand for a pretty girl with fire in her eyes. They’ll break you, sure, but you’ll survive. You always do.”

The world shattered.

“You… sold me?” she whispered, her voice raw.

Jasper’s smile vanished. His voice dropped to a venomous hiss. “I’m tired of being the failure. Tired of watching you act like you’re better. Always holding everything together like some martyr. Well guess what, Selene? I want out. And you? You’re the payment.”

She staggered back, towel clutched desperately around her. The betrayal gutted her worse than any blade could.

Outside—the screech of tires.

Jasper’s pulse spiked. He peered through the window, grinning. “Perfect timing. Looks like they’re here.”

“You bastard!” she screamed, slamming her fists against the door. “You’re a coward! A traitor! YOU’RE NOT MY BROTHER!”

He climbed onto the windowsill, pausing only to glance back at the door one last time. His eyes were dark, unreadable. “Bye, sis.”

And then—he was gone.

The front door exploded open seconds later. Hinges shrieked. Wood splintered.

Two men in black stormed in, shadows swallowing the room. One was massive, shoulders wide as a wall. The other had a tattoo carved across half his face, his smile razor-sharp.

“Empty?” the big one growled.

“No way,” Tattoo sneered. “We were promised goods. Check every room.”

Selene’s heart hammered in her chest. She backed away, feet slipping on damp tile. She pressed against the far wall, silent, praying.

The bathroom knob twisted.

Her breath caught.

Crash.

The door exploded inward, shards flying. Selene stumbled back, clutching her towel tight.

Tattoo’s eyes lit up like a predator spotting prey. “Well, well. Ain’t she a gem?”

“Get away from me!” she spat, scrambling to her feet, chin lifted in defiance.

“We’re not here to hurt you,” he lied smoothly, his gaze crawling over her. “We’re just here to collect.”

“I don’t owe you a damn thing!”

The big man shoved a crumpled paper in her face. “Your signature. Your name. Looks real to me.”

Her stomach dropped. She recognized the handwriting. Jasper’s.

Her scream was pure fury. “You pigs! You think you can drag me off like cattle? I’ll kill every last one of you!”

“Oh?” Tattoo smirked. “Feisty. That’ll fetch a better price.”

She lunged, shoving past him with a burst of adrenaline. One man reached—she slammed her elbow into his ribs. Another grabbed—she kicked his knee, hard enough to buckle it. She sprinted for the living room—freedom so close—

A hand fisted into her towel.

“No!” she shrieked, twisting, clawing. The fabric tore from her body, hitting the floor.

Her scream split the air.

She grabbed at the couch, at anything, trying to shield herself, but rough hands yanked her back, cold air biting her skin.

“You’ll regret this!” she spat, tears streaming as she fought like a cornered wolf. “LET ME GO!”

A fist cracked against the side of her skull. White-hot pain exploded in her head. The world tilted.

The last thing she heard before darkness swallowed her was Tattoo’s voice, low and cruel:

“This one’s gonna shine in the red district.”