Chapter 1 Debt

• Arya's POV
• The click of a switchblade was the only warning I got before I was roughly pinned against the brick wall of the alley behind my office.
• “Interest keeps pumping up, Thorne, and my patience is at its lowest.” The loan shark whispered, his breath smelling of cigarettes.
• “I…I am going to pay I swear. Just give a few months. I promise, I will find a way.” The words came out, desperate and hollow.
• Even as I spoke, the truth clawed at my chest; I could live on nothing but water and air for a decade and still won’t be able to pay off my mom’s debts.
• “If you can’t pay up that’s fine, you will have to work for me.” He said with a mischievous grin as he ran the handle of the blade down my cheeks.
• I pushed him away.
• “That won’t be necessary,” I snapped, forcing more courage into my voice than I actually felt.
• He chuckled.
• “Then pay up.” he spat.
• His name was Marco, though nobody ever called him that to his face. Around the neighborhood he was simply ‘the Collector’. And collectors never walked away empty-handed.
• The switchblade flicked open again.
• The metallic sound echoed against the damp brick walls, sending a cold shiver down my spine.
• “I’m not asking for the full amount tonight,” he continued, tilting his head as he studied me. “Just something to prove you’re actually willing to pay.”
• My pulse pounded so loudly I was certain he could hear it.
• “I told you I’ll pay,” I said, gripping my bag tighter. “I just need time.”
• Marco leaned closer until his shadow swallowed me whole.
• “Time is something I don’t have,” he whispered.
• Then, without warning, he grabbed my left wrist.
• The blade flashed.
• I gasped.
• But instead of cutting skin, he sliced the strap of my black old watch clean off. The broken piece clattered onto the concrete.
• “Three days,” he said, pressing the cold metal against my throat just enough to remind me how easily it could end differently.
• “Three days, Arya Thorne.”
• My stomach twisted.
• Three days.
• I couldn’t even pay one percent of what my mother owed.
• “After that,” he continued softly, “I stop asking nicely and I’ll be doing whatever I want with you.”
• He stepped back, folding the knife with another click before slipping it into his jacket.
• Just like that.
• As if he hadn’t just threatened my life.
• As if ruining people was just another Tuesday evening for him.
• Marco gave me one last smile before walking out of the alley.
• “Three days,” he repeated over his shoulder.
• Then he was gone.
• ******
• I stood there for a long moment, trying to ease my breath.
• The city hummed around me; cars, distant music, people laughing somewhere down the street.
• Normal life.
• A life I clearly wasn’t destined to be part of.
• Finally, I bent down and picked up the broken watch strap from the ground.
• Great.
• Another thing I couldn’t afford to replace.
• I shoved it into my bag and forced my legs to move toward the street.
• The neon sign above my office flickered weakly.
• ‘THORNE ACCOUNTING SERVICES’
• The sign made it sound bigger than it was.
• In reality, it was one tiny rented office with secondhand furniture and a coffee machine that worked only when it felt like it.
• But then again, it belongs to me.
• Or at least it would be… if the landlord didn’t throw me out next month.
• I sighed, unlocked the door and stepped inside.
• The familiar smell of old paper and cheap air freshener hit my face.
• My desk was covered in files, tax returns, expense reports, audit requests.
• Numbers.
• Numbers was the only thing in my life I could control.
• That’s why businesses hired me.
• I wasn’t just an accountant.
• I was a forensic accountant.
• If money went missing, I found it.
• If someone was hiding something in their books, I exposed it.
• Give me a spreadsheet and I could tell you exactly where every cent went.
• Unfortunately…
• I couldn’t do the same for my mother’s gambling addiction.
• I dropped my bag onto the chair and opened my laptop.
• The debt spreadsheet appeared on the screen.
• I stared at the remaining total.
• My chest tightened.
• Three hundred and eighty-four thousand dollars.
• And climbing.
• My chest tightened as I felt tears flow down my cheeks.
• My mom had started with small bets years ago; lottery tickets, poker nights, harmless fun.
• Then casinos.
• Then online betting.
• Then borrowing.
• Then borrowing from the wrong people.
• People like Marco.
• I rubbed my eyes. I was a kid when most of these debts were accumulated by her, but why am I the one carrying the burden.
• Three days.
• Unless I robbed a bank or sold a kidney, there was no way out of this.
• My phone buzzed on the desk.
• Unknown number.
• I hesitated before answering.
• “Hello?”
• “Miss Arya Thorne.”
• The voice on the other end was calm. Smooth. Sophisticated.
• Not the kind of voice that called my office.
• “Yes?”
• “I was hoping you might be available for a private consultation tomorrow morning.”
• I pulled a notepad closer.
• “What kind of consultation?”
• “A financial audit.”
• “That depends on the size of the company,” I said automatically. “My schedule is…”
• “VANCE Industries.” The voice said.