The Surgeon's Debt: Bound To The Tycoon

Elida didn't use the pepper spray. She knew Mercer. He could disarm her before she even uncapped it.

She got in the car.

But she refused to go to the penthouse.

"Take me home," she said.

"The boss said-"

"Take. Me. Home. Or I open this door while we're moving."

Mercer looked in the rearview mirror. The partition was down. Abraham was sitting in the back with her.

"Take her to Queens," Abraham said. His voice was tight.

The ride was silent. Abraham stared straight ahead. Elida stared out the window.

When they pulled up to the crumbling brick building in Queens, she felt a flush of shame. It was a stark contrast to the glass tower she had left yesterday.

"You live here?" Abraham asked. He looked at the graffiti on the door.

"It's what I can afford."

She got out. To her horror, the car door didn't close behind her.

Abraham got out.

He stood on the sidewalk, his cane in hand. He looked like a god descending into the underworld. His suit cost more than this entire building.

"You're not coming up," she said, blocking the doorway.

"The elevator is broken," he observed, his eyes scanning the derelict lobby beyond her. "Of course it is."

"A shame. You'll have to leave."

He took a single step forward, forcing her to step back into the entryway. "I'm not leaving until we talk."

"There's nothing to talk about. The DOJ is watching you, Abraham. Standing here, in this neighborhood, is reckless. Your performance is slipping."

His jaw tightened. He hated that she saw through the act. He hated that she knew.

He turned to her, his voice a low growl that echoed in the small, tiled space.

"Why?" he demanded. "Why this hovel? Why live like a rat when you have a check for three million dollars in your pocket?"

"I tore it up."

"I can write another one."

"I don't want it!" she shouted. The sound bounced off the close walls.

He stepped closer, backing her against the cold mailboxes.

"What do you want then?" he growled. "You want me to beg? You want an apology?"

"I want nothing from you."

"Liar." He slammed his hand against the metal door right next to her head. "You came back last night. You saved me. You slept with me."

"That was a mistake."

"Was it?"

He was too close. She could feel his heat.

"You were practice," she said. The lie tasted like bile.

Abraham froze. "What?"

"I needed to know if I could handle a man like you," she said, forcing her voice to be steady. "For when I find a real husband. Someone with a future. Someone who isn't... broken."

His eyes went dead. The fire in them extinguished instantly.

She had hit the one spot that wasn't armored. His insecurity about his body.

He stepped back. He adjusted his cuffs.

"I see," he said. His voice was ice. "Well. I'm glad I could be of service."

He turned and walked out.

He didn't look back.

She waited until she heard the SUV's engine roar to life and fade into the distance.

She slid down the front of the mailboxes until she hit the floor. She buried her face in her knees and sobbed.

Her phone buzzed.

She wiped her eyes and looked at the screen. It was the encrypted forum. The Void.

A private message from user The_King.

The_King: A contract is signed in ink, but its clauses are written in blood. Refusal is merely a request for a higher price.

She stared at the message. He was hurting.

She typed back, her fingers trembling.

The_Novice: Unless the commodity being sold is the soul. Then the currency itself is the insult.