ase slipped out of his house, guilt clinging to him like damp clothes.
The night felt too quiet.
He returned to the shop, heart hammering. The door creaked as he pushed it open. No one inside.
Carefully, he placed the wallet back on the counter exactly where it had been.
He turned—
And slammed straight into McLarence.
Time froze.
The world dulled. Passing cars moved like distant ghosts. His heartbeat thundered in his skull.
McLarence’s fist came first.
Pain exploded across Jase’s face. He stumbled back—
Then cold metal pressed against his forehead.
A gun.
“Who sent you?” McLarence growled.
“N-Nobody! Please—”
A sharp blow to his temple.
Darkness swallowed him.
He woke up tied to a chair.
Wrists bound tight. Ankles secured. Vision blurred.
The air reeked of cigarette smoke and rusted metal.
Click.
A lighter flicked in the shadows.
“How are you, bro?” McLarence asked casually.
A cigarette glowed between his fingers.
Across the room stood Trevis.
Trevis didn’t just smoke — he lived in smoke. One cigarette burned in his hand while another waited between his lips. An ashtray overflowed beside him. The room felt like his lungs had exhaled it into existence.
Jase’s eyes drifted to a table nearby.
Powder.
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A scale.
Small sealed baggies.
His throat tightened.
“Please… I wasn’t trying to steal. I was going to return it—I felt bad—”
“Shut up,” McLarence snapped. “Did I ask?”
Trevis stepped closer and exhaled smoke directly into Jase’s face.
“Ever smoked before?” Trevis asked calmly.
“I’m fifteen…”
Trevis tilted his head.
“So?”
He took another long drag.
“We weren’t going to kill you,” Trevis said, lifting the gun slightly. “But thanks to you, we lost a client. Prevention is better than cure.”
“What do you mean?” Jase’s voice cracked.
“We can’t risk you talking.”
The barrel aligned with his forehead.
Panic exploded inside him.
“Don’t kill me! I—I can help! I can produce for you! Just don’t shoot!”
Silence.
Then laughter filled the room.
“This kid’s funny,” McLarence grinned.
Trevis studied him through thick smoke.
“You can help?” he asked quietly. “How?”
“I can make it,” Jase forced out.
Trevis stared.
“You better not be bluffing.”
He crushed his cigarette into the ashtray — and immediately lit another.
“McLarence. Untie him.”
They stepped into the alley.
The city shifted.
Neon flickered above stained brick walls. The air smelled metallic and sour. Laughter echoed from dark corners. A strip club throbbed with distorted music. Deals were made in whispers.
Jase swallowed.
This world was rotten.
And alive.
Trevis strapped a cold metal device around Jase’s ankle.
“You’ll be back tomorrow. 7:15 a.m. sharp.”
“What is this?” Jase asked.
“Insurance,” Trevis replied, smoke curling around his face. “If you don’t show… it explodes.”
He said it like he was discussing the weather.
“Don’t try anything clever.”
10:00 PM.
The holographic clock glowed in the living room.
His father sat on the couch in pajamas.
Waiting.
“Where were you?” his father asked calmly.
“I… I was…”
His father stood slowly.
“Your food is cold.”
He paused at the hallway.
For a moment, it seemed like he might turn back. Might say something more.
He didn’t.
His bedroom door shut.
That silence hurt more than the gun.
In his room, Jase counted his fingers.
Thumb. Pinky. Once.
Ring and index. Twice.
Middle finger. Five times.
Again.
Again.
Again.
“Not here,” he whispered. “Dad checks.”
Then—
A small smile.
“The cave.”
The hidden door unlocked with his fingerprint.
Dust filled the underground room. Cobwebs trembled as he stepped inside.
He reached behind a shelf and pulled out a shimmering blank checklist.
Placed the box on the table.
Opened it.
Read through the contents carefully.
His hands trembled.
Not from fear.
From memory.
The ropes digging into his wrists.
The cigarette smoke blown into his face.
The laughter.
“They touched me,” he whispered.
His fists clenched.
“They thought I was nothing.”
His breathing slowed.
The humiliation burned.
The gun against his forehead.
The way Trevis looked at him — like an insect.
Something shifted.
The fear that once froze him…
Was gone.
In its place?
Heat.
Focus.
Clarity.
For the first time since that cold barrel touched his skin—
He felt awake.
Fully awake.
Alive.
Not the scared son eating cold food.
Not the boy tied to a chair.
Alive.
“If those idiots can do it,” he muttered, staring at the equipment, “I can do it better.”
The ankle device felt heavy.
A leash.
They thought they owned him.
A slow smile spread across his face.
Let them think that.
He pulled out his phone and calculated the timing.
“All night,” he whispered.
His eyes sharpened.
“Time to work.”
