Bound By Debt

Into The Fire

The house looked ordinary enough—peeling paint, a crooked mailbox, and a yard full of weeds. It was almost identical to the other houses on the block, but the knot in my stomach told me this stop was going to be different.

"Ready?" Jaylen asked, leaning against the car.

I took a deep breath and nodded. "Yeah. Let's get it over with."

This was my first solo run, or at least that's what Malik called it. Jaylen was still here, but he made it clear this was my job. He'd step in only if things got out of hand, but I was expected to take the lead.

The assignment seemed straightforward enough: collect $1,000 from a man named Ronnie Miles. Malik had given me the address, a brief description, and one firm instruction—don't leave without the money.

Jaylen handed me the folded piece of paper with the details again, like he'd done on all the other jobs. "You'll be fine," he said with a small smile. "Just stay calm, be firm, and don't let him intimidate you."

Easy for him to say. Jaylen could disarm anyone with his charm and quick wit. I, on the other hand, still felt like I didn't belong in this world.

I walked up to the house, each step feeling heavier than the last. The porch creaked under my weight, and I knocked on the door, my heart pounding.

For a long moment, nothing happened. I glanced over my shoulder at Jaylen, who gave me a reassuring nod from the car.

The door finally swung open, revealing a man in his late thirties with bloodshot eyes and a scowl. He reeked of alcohol, and his shirt was stained with something I didn't want to identify.

"What do you want?" he growled, his voice rough.

"Ronnie Miles?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Who's asking?"

"I'm here on behalf of Malik King," I said, forcing myself to meet his gaze. "You owe him $1,000."

Ronnie snorted, leaning against the doorframe. "Yeah? And what if I don't have it?"

I swallowed hard. "Then we're going to have a problem."

He laughed, a harsh, grating sound that made my skin crawl. "Look at you, trying to play tough. You don't scare me, little girl."

I clenched my fists, trying to keep my composure. "This isn't a game. Either you pay what you owe, or things are going to get a lot worse for you."

"Is that so?" he said, his smile fading. He took a step closer, his bloodshot eyes narrowing. "You think you can come to my house and threaten me?"

"I'm not threatening you," I said, my voice shaking despite my best efforts. "I'm giving you a chance to make this right."

Ronnie's expression darkened, and before I could react, he grabbed my wrist.

"Listen here, you little—"

"Hey!" Jaylen's voice cut through the air like a knife.

Ronnie let go of me and turned just as Jaylen appeared at the bottom of the porch steps. His easygoing demeanor was gone, replaced by a cold, dangerous intensity.

"Is there a problem here?" Jaylen asked, his voice calm but laced with warning.

Ronnie hesitated, glancing between us. "This doesn't concern you."

"Oh, it concerns me," Jaylen said, stepping closer. "You put your hands on her, which makes it my business."

Ronnie opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say anything, Jaylen grabbed him by the front of his shirt and shoved him against the doorframe.

"I don't think you understand how this works," Jaylen said, his voice low and menacing. "You owe Malik money, and we're here to collect. You either hand it over, or we make sure you regret it."

Ronnie's bravado crumbled. "Okay, okay! I've got it!"

Jaylen let go of him, and Ronnie stumbled back into the house. A moment later, he returned with a wad of cash, his hands shaking.

"Here," he muttered, shoving the money into Jaylen's hand.

Jaylen counted the bills, then nodded. "Smart choice."

We turned to leave, and I felt Ronnie's glare burning into my back.

Once we were back in the car, I let out a shaky breath. My wrist throbbed where Ronnie had grabbed me, but I tried to ignore it.

"You good?" Jaylen asked, glancing over at me.

"Yeah," I said, though I wasn't sure if I believed it.

"You handled that pretty well," he said, giving me a small smile.

I raised an eyebrow. "Pretty well? The guy almost broke my wrist."

"Okay, so maybe it could've gone smoother," he admitted. "But you didn't back down. That counts for something."

I didn't respond. My mind was still replaying the moment Ronnie grabbed me, his bloodshot eyes and cruel smile etched into my memory.

Jaylen must have noticed my silence because he sighed and reached into his bag. "Here," he said, handing me a bottle of water. "Drink this. You're shaking."

I hadn't even realized it, but he was right. My hands were trembling. I took the water and sipped it slowly, the cold liquid helping to steady my nerves.

"Thanks," I muttered.

"Anytime," he said, leaning back in his seat. "Look, I know this job isn't easy. But you've got something most people don't."

"What's that?"

"Heart," he said simply. "A lot of people in this business only care about themselves. But you? You're doing this for someone else. That's rare."

His words caught me off guard. I didn't know what to say, so I just stared out the window, letting the silence fill the car.

Over the next few weeks, Jaylen and I spent a lot of time together. He taught me how to read people, how to spot the ones who were bluffing and the ones who were dangerous.

"Most of this job is psychological," he explained one day as we drove to another collection. "If they think you're weak, they'll walk all over you. But if you show them you're serious, they'll fall in line."

"What if they don't?" I asked.

"Then you improvise," he said with a shrug.

Jaylen made it sound easy, but I knew better. Every job felt like a gamble, and the stakes were always high.

Still, I couldn't deny that I was starting to get the hang of it. The fear that had once paralyzed me was slowly giving way to a cautious confidence.

Jaylen noticed the change, too. "Look at you," he said one day after a particularly tense collection. "I think you're starting to enjoy this."

"I wouldn't go that far," I said, but I couldn't help but smile.

One night, after a long day of work, Jaylen and I sat on the hood of his car, looking out over the city. The lights stretched out before us, a sea of orange and white that seemed to go on forever.

"You ever think about getting out of this?" I asked, breaking the silence.

Jaylen glanced at me, then shrugged. "Sometimes. But this is all I've ever known."

"What about before Malik?"

"There wasn't a 'before Malik,'" he said with a small laugh. "He found me when I was sixteen, gave me a way to survive. I owe him everything."

I nodded, staring out at the city. "I don't know if I can do this forever."

"You don't have to," Jaylen said. "You just have to do it long enough to get what you need."

I didn't respond, but his words stayed with me. Maybe he was right. Maybe this was just a temporary sacrifice, a means to an end.

But deep down, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was in too deep.