Chapter 3

Hannah

The morning sun filtered through the curtain, casting patterns across my bedroom floor. I buried my face deeper into the pillow, savoring these last few moments of peace before facing another day of classes, work, and the constant juggling act that was my life.

BANG. BANG. BANG.

The pounding on my apartment door jolted me awake like an electric shock. I sat bolt upright, heart hammering in my chest.

BANG. BANG. BANG.

"Coming!" I shouted, scrambling out of bed. I glanced at my phone. 9:08 AM. Who the hell was trying to break down my door at this hour?

I grabbed a robe to throw over my sleep shorts and tank top, quickly checking my mom's room as I passed. Empty, as expected. She'd already left for work despite how exhausted she'd looked last night. The woman never stopped, even when she should.

The pounding continued, each impact making the door rattle in its frame.

"I said I'm coming!" I yelled, fumbling with the chain lock. I yanked open the door, ready to tell off whoever was on the other side.

My stomach dropped to my feet.

Vincent Graves stood in my doorway, filling the frame with his broad shoulders and permanent scowl. His salt-and-pepper hair was slicked back, and his expensive suit couldn't quite hide the fact that he was built like a bouncer. Which he had been before moving up to more lucrative ventures in debt collection.

"Hannah Mitchell," he said, his voice deceptively soft. "Surprised to see me?"

I swallowed hard. "Mr. Graves. What are you doing here?"

He smiled, all teeth and no warmth. "Did you forget something? A little financial arrangement between friends?"

My mind raced. The loan. The money I'd borrowed three months ago when Mom's medical bills had piled up faster than I could manage. The money I'd promised to pay back by now.

"I didn't forget," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "I just need a little more time."

Vincent's face darkened as he stepped closer, forcing me back into my apartment. He shut the door behind him with a soft click that somehow felt more threatening than if he'd slammed it.

"Time?" He laughed, the sound like gravel under tires. "You think I'm running a charity here, princess? Did you forget our arrangement? You came to me, all teary-eyed, about your mommy's medical bills. You needed cash fast. I gave it to you. Three months, you said. 'I promise, Mr. Graves, just three months.'" His imitation of my voice was high-pitched, mocking.

I wrapped my robe tighter around myself, suddenly aware of how thin the fabric was. "I know what I said. Things have been complicated."

"Complicated? What's complicated is explaining to my boss why some college girl hasn't paid back what she owes. You think I enjoy making house calls at 9 AM?"

My mouth went dry. I knew Vincent worked for someone bigger, someone whose name was never mentioned. That's why I'd gone to him in the first place – he was the middleman, the face of an operation that stayed in the shadows.

"I'll get your money," I said, my voice firmer now.

"One month." He held up a single finger so close to my face I could see the dirt under his nail. "That's what you get. Thirty days to pay back every cent."

I nodded quickly. "I can do that."

Vincent's eyes traveled down my body, lingering in places that made my skin crawl. "You know, there are other ways to pay off debts. Pretty girl like you could make that money back in a weekend."

My stomach turned. "I'll get the cash."

He smirked. "You sure? Lots of men would pay top dollar for a piece of what you're hiding under that robe. Hell, I've got clients who'd clear your debt just for one night with those tits."

I crossed my arms over my chest, feeling naked despite being covered. "That's not happening."

"No?" He stepped closer, and I could smell his cologne – too strong, too cheap. "What's the difference between what I'm suggesting and what you college girls do anyway? Fucking some frat boy for free or fucking a businessman for cash – at least one pays the bills."

I bit back the urge to slap him. "I said I'll get your money."

"One month," he repeated, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Or I start exploring other options. Maybe your mommy needs another loan? Maybe I should start visiting her at work? Or maybe I just sell your debt to someone who doesn't mind getting rough with pretty little bitches who don't pay up."

My heart hammered against my ribs. "That won't be necessary."

"For your sake, I hope not." He reached out and twirled a strand of my hair around his finger. I froze, not daring to pull away. "Because if I don't get my money, I'll make sure someone gets their money's worth from that sweet pussy of yours. One way or another, the debt gets paid."

He released my hair and stepped back, straightening his jacket. "One month, Hannah Mitchell. Tick-tock."

With that, he turned and walked out, leaving the door open behind him.

I slammed it shut and locked it, then sank to the floor, my back against the door. My hands trembled as I pulled out my phone and checked my bank balance: $32.47. Nowhere near the $15,000 I owed.

I closed my eyes, trying to think. How the hell was I going to come up with that kind of money in thirty days?

Vincent's threats echoed in my mind, making my skin crawl. The way he'd looked at me like I was merchandise to be bartered or sold... I shuddered and pulled my robe tighter.

"Fucking pervert," I muttered, wiping away angry tears. His suggestion about "other ways" to pay my debt made me want to scrub my skin raw. The casual way he'd talked about selling me to his clients turned my stomach. I'd rather work myself to death than let that happen.