Chapter 2 Blood Debt

• Razen leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. Kael swallowed. “Sixty percent interest per week? That’s—”
• “You came here,” Razen said calmly. “I didn’t knock on your door.”
• “I don’t even know if the treatment will work,” Kael said.
• Razen tilted his head slightly. “Then don’t borrow.” Kael looked back at the screen. $28,000. Approved. No collateral. Just his name and his life.
• “What happens if I can’t pay?” he asked quietly.
• “Do you really want to know the answer to that?” Kael didn’t speak.
• Razen stood slowly, walked to a sideboard where a single decanter sat, dark glass, probably something older than Kael’s career. He poured a drink, but didn’t offer one.
• “You said it’s for your mother,” Razen said.
• Kael nodded once, then Razen turned with the glass in his hand. “Then here’s what you need to ask yourself: what are you willing to suffer, so she doesn’t?”
• The room felt colder now. Or maybe just quieter. Kael didn’t think twice as he pressed the screen with his thumb.
• 'Signature accepted.'
• Razen took a long sip, watching him over the rim of the glass. “One week, then weekly roll. That means $40,000 by Day 8. We don’t do extensions. You’ll receive your funds in three hours.”
• Kael stood, slower this time. “Thank you.”
• Razen smiled faintly. “Don’t thank me yet.”
• Three hours later….
• Kael sat in a corner booth at Horizon General’s billing office, confirmation email still open on his phone. The funds had cleared, finally.
• + $27,380.94 — [Wire received | "AURELIA LOGISTICS LTD"]
• The nurse behind the glass partition didn’t look up as he slid the tablet across. Her nails clicked on the counter.
• “NuMyelin trial protocol. Full month,” he said. “Starting today.”
• She took the tablet, her eyes flicking over the numbers—clearly surprised that someone like Kael had raised so much money.
• “Did someone actually give you that kind of money? Hope you don’t come crying when it’s gone, we don’t give second chances.” Kael nodded. “I’m sure.”
• She tapped a few things into her terminal, then paused. “Do you want to see her before the dose begins?”
• Kael stood. “No...I have other things to do"
• Truth was, he couldn’t face her, not yet. She’d know the moment she looked at him that he’d taken money from somewhere he shouldn’t. And if she asked... he didn’t trust himself not to break.
• Meanwhile, across the street from Horizon General, a black SUV idled in the shade of a loading bay. The driver didn’t move, just stared through tinted glass at the building.
• In the back seat, a man lit a cigarette and exhaled slowly.
• “One more foolish bastard added to the list,” he muttered, flipping a page on a leather-bound notepad.
• Kael’s name was already there. Underlined.
• *************
• It had been four weeks since Kael signed the loan agreement.
• The $27,385 was gone, it was swallowed by hospital bills and the experimental drug that stabilized his mother, for now. But the interest was climbing like a noose around his neck.
• His crypto wallet showed $0, he was completely broke. A dull vibration buzzed across his desk. Kael didn’t look up at first. Then the phone lit again:
• Payment Missed. Penalty Applied. Current Balance: $72,000.
• Kael stared at the screen. His heart sank, but he turned it face-down and slumped back in his chair.
• The breakroom clock ticked overhead. He rose stiffly, slipping his badge into his pocket. A short walk. That’s all he needed. Just a few minutes to clear the weight off his chest.
• He stepped into the hallway, three men were already stepping off the elevator on the 51st floor. They rolled their sleeves with coffee cups creating the illusion of normalcy.
• Kael spotted them immediately. He didn’t recognize their faces, but something in his gut went cold.
• “Mr. Darion,” the tallest said smoothly. “Quick word?”
• Kael hesitated, then nodded. They flanked him casually, guiding him toward the stairwell like coworkers heading for a smoke break. No one on the floor looked twice.
• The stairwell door closed behind them with a soft click. Then their mask dropped. The first punch landed below his ribs, brutal and clean. Kael staggered, wheezing.
• “Friendly reminder,” one of them said coldly, gripping his collar. “Razen doesn’t like to be ignored.”
• Kael coughed, holding his side. The third leaned in, voice low and calm. “Miss another payment window, and we’ll take more than your breath next time.”
• “You’ve been marked. Debts don’t wait. Especially with us.” He gave Kael a hard shove, slamming him against the wall. “Pay up. Or bleed out.”
• Then, like nothing happened, they adjusted their sleeves and walked away—laughing softly.
• Kael didn’t report the assault. He didn’t go to the nurse. He didn’t tell a soul.
• He just cleaned the blood off his shirt in the restroom, splashed cold water on his face, and returned to his desk like nothing happened. He needed this job—badly. Rent was due, and his mom’s meds weren’t getting any cheaper.
• So he stayed. Sat stiffly at his workstation, wincing every time he moved.
• Two hours later, Kael stood outside HR, still holding his ribs. He knocked once, then stepped in. Annika didn’t offer him a chair.
• She didn’t look up. “Sit…..hmmm..actually, don’t. This won’t take long.”
• Kael opened his mouth, voice dry. “I just wanted to explain—”
• “No need,” she cut in flatly. “We’ve seen the footage... Loan sharks dragging an employee into a stairwell like we’re running a damn street corner.”
• He flinched. “I didn’t know they’d—”
• “Of course you didn’t,” she said, voice rising just enough to mock. “Because that’s your pattern, isn’t it? Poor little Kael. Always begging for money”
• “I was just trying to—”
• “Stop,” she snapped. “Stop talking. You’re inviting thugs into the building? You’re lucky they didn’t drag you through the lobby.”
• Annika finally looked at him. Not like a person—like something smeared on her shoe.
• He tried again. “Ma’am I tried asking you for help, but-”
• She waved a hand to silence him. “Shut-up! You come in here with your sorry face, your pity stares, your little sob-story loan requests—then act surprised when your life explodes and stains my building.”
• “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. Annika stood, slow and theatrical.
• “No. You’re not. You’re just sorry it finally caught up with you.”
• She circled behind her desk and opened the door—not for him, but for the next person waiting outside.
• “Final pay hits Friday. Security will escort you out. And do not come back.”
• “Ma’am.. Please…”Kael hesitated.
• She turned one last time, eyes sharp. “And Kael? This field is for people who can carry weight. You fold like wet paper. Maybe go fold shirts instead….You’’re fired”
• She didn’t wait for him to speak. She just opened the door, like he didn’t matter anymore.
• Kael lowered his head and walked out. He didn’t argue. Didn’t look back. There was nothing left to say. Only the weight of it all pressing on his shoulders.
• Kael descended the steps, holding a small cardboard box. His mother’s photo sat inside, face pressed to the corner.
• Someone was waiting near the curb. Elyra Voss, She looked him over. “Fired?”
• Kael didn’t answer. “Guess the poor brat routine has an expiration date,” she said. “Figured you’d crash eventually. Just didn’t expect it to be so... public." She didn’t wait for a reply as she left, her heels clicked away cleanly.
• Kael didn’t remember walking out of the building. Didn’t remember the train ride. His brain was running static. His ribs ached. His jaw felt split down the middle. His pride, he didn’t know where that was anymore. Probably still lying on the office floor where Annika left it.
• He reached the hospital doors at 8 p.m as they slid open. He passed the front desk without stopping. The nurses didn’t even look up. He was just another tired man with nowhere else to go.
• Room 38B was at the end of the corridor, glowing dim behind frosted glass. Kael pushed the door open quietly, as if any sudden sound might be the one that ended her.
• His mother lay still shrunken, sunken into the white sheets like a fading memory. The oxygen mask fogged faintly with each shallow breath. The monitor beeped slowly. Her IV bag was nearly empty.
• He sat down beside her, careful not to make the chair creak. He took her hand, thin and cold, fingers limp inside his.
• Her eyelids fluttered. “Kael…?” she murmured, barely audible.
• “Right here,” he whispered, voice cracked and low.
• She didn’t open her eyes, just shifted slightly toward the sound. That was all she could give now.
• Kael swallowed hard and didn’t say anything more. He didn’t want her to ask. He didn’t want to lie. That everything was fine. That the money was coming. That the next dose was paid for.
• “I... I had a dream,” she whispered, through her oxygen mask. “Your father was dancing. He was wearing that ugly blue jacket.”
• Kael smiled, barely. “You always hated that one.”
• “It looked like wallpaper,” she mumbled with the hint of a laugh.
• They both laughed, but it didn’t last.“I’m tired,” she breathed. “Too tired.”
• “You’re fighting,” Kael whispered, gently brushing her hair from her damp forehead. “You’re doing amazing.”
• Her eyelids fluttered, her lips trembling to form words.“You always say that,” she murmured. “Since you were little…”
• His throat tightened. “Because it’s true." Her fingers, weak and thin, twitched once in his grip.
• “Kael…” she rasped. “When I go… I want you to leave this city. Promise me."
• He opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out. He couldn’t say “yes.”
• He couldn’t say “no.” Her hand loosened in his. He stayed there, still holding it. Watching her chest rise and fall slower and his fingers trembled.
• Then, the monitor tone shifted. Just a long, piercing beep.Beep. Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.
• Kael froze. His heart dropped, “No… no, no, no—”
• He bolted up from the chair, grabbing her hand like it could still bring her back.
• “Mom—?! MOM?!” She didn’t respond.
• Her chest didn’t rise. The light in her eyes was gone.
• “NURSE!!” Kael screamed, voice cracking violently.
• “NURSE! SOMEONE HELP ME!!”
• He slammed his fist against the bed rail. “PLEASE! DO SOMETHING!!”
• The door burst open as a nurse rushed in, eyes wide, already moving to check her vitals, but it was too late, she glanced at the monitor, at the mask, at the stillness.
• Then she looked at Kael and shaked her head. Kael collapsed back to the chair like his legs had given out. His head dropped onto his mother’s arm.
• And then the dam broke. His body shook as the tear drop ran down his cheek as he could barely breath as it felt like he was choking.
• “I wasn’t done—” he cried.
• “You weren’t supposed to leave yet—” He clung to her arm like a child.
• The nurse stepped back quietly. Kael kept crying, harder now, soaking the white blanket.
• "I hate this world…Noooooo!”