Her laugh follows me out like poison, seeping into my skin even as I walk away. But with each step toward my car, the air feels cleaner, lighter. Nora's image floats through my mind—her genuine smile, the way sunlight catches in her eyes—and it's like a lifeline pulling me toward something better.

The car door slams behind me with a finality that feels right. I sink into the seat, releasing a breath that seems to carry years of toxic weight with it. My hands shake as I pull out my phone, but there's purpose in the tremor now. Jay needs to know what's coming—he's the only one who understands the full scope of the Monty situation.

Me

I'm going to deal with Monty. Once and for all. Then I'm out. For good this time.

The response comes quickly, concern bleeding through the pixels.

Jay

Wait, what does that mean? When are you planning on executing this little plan of yours?

Me

Tonight.

Jay

I'm out of town tonight, just wait till I'm back.

Don't do this alone, man. Monty's dangerous. You know that.

Nate

I'll handle it. I've got the money.

Jay's call lights up my screen, but I let it ring out. His voice of reason would only slow me down, and I can't afford hesitation. Not tonight.

Another message flashes.

Jay

He knows who your family is. He knows you've got money. You think a couple grand will be enough?

He's not letting you out easily.

The truth in those words settles like ice in my stomach. Of course, Monty knows—he's made it his business to know everything about everyone he deals with. But I'm past caring about the risks. Living under his thumb isn't living at all.

Another message.

Jay

Just wait till I'm back. Don't do anything stupid, Nate. For real.

I toss the phone aside, ignoring its persistent buzz, and start the engine. The old car park behind the abandoned warehouse looms in my mind like a nightmare waiting to happen. I've been there too many times, each visit leaving another scar on my soul. But this time has to be different.

I step out of the car noticing Monty's already there, lounging against a beat-up Chevy like he owns the world. The cherry of his cigarette glows like a demon's eye in the darkness, and his crew lurks in the shadows, patient predators waiting for their cue.

"Preppy," he chuckles, smoke curling from his lips like morning mist. "It's about time."

I approach him with measured steps, forcing my spine straight despite the fear coiling in my gut. The envelope feels heavy in my hand, weighted with desperate hopes of freedom.

"I brought you what I owe you. Plus an extra thousand on top. I'm done, Monty. That's it."