Kael didn't even look at the taxis lined up outside the club.
That kind of thing was for people who didn't flinch when their bank app loaded. For people who thought, Sure, why not? instead of I could eat for three days with that money. Tonight, with a fifty-thousand-dollar debt hanging around his neck like an overenthusiastic noose, even the idea of paying for a bus ticket made his stomach twitch.
Besides, he needed the walk.
He needed the cold 2:00 a.m. air to slap him in the face and remind his hands to stop shaking like they were auditioning for a horror movie.
The walk back to his apartment took forty minutes. Forty long, thoughtful, regret-filled minutes. Fifty thousand dollars. Six months of his life. To someone like Jaxen Valtieri—a billionaire whose shoes probably had better credit scores than Kael—that amount was pocket change. Something you found while doing laundry and shrugged about.
To Kael, it was everything.
It was the price of keeping his brother out of jail.
When he turned onto his block, the atmosphere changed instantly. The air lost its polished club smell and picked up something much more familiar: damp concrete, overworked trash cans, and the faintly greasy promise of a corner shop prepping breakfast way too early.
Home sweet home.
The apartment door creaked when he opened it. Usually, the sound made him feel grounded, like the place was greeting him. Tonight, it sounded more like a complaint.
The light flickered on. The room greeted him with the unmistakable scent of instant noodles and regret. Cheap food. Cheap furniture. A home held together by duct tape, goodwill, and very low expectations.
"Kael?"
Leo was sitting on the floor in the corner of the living room. He looked… bad. Split lip. Bruise already setting in. Eyes red and shiny. He looked smaller than he should have, like someone had taken his confidence and shaken it out of him.
"I'm here," Kael said.
He dropped his keys on the plastic table. The thud echoed more than it deserved to. Honestly, everything in this apartment was louder than necessary.
"They just let me go," Leo said, scrambling to his feet. "The guards said the debt was 'handled' and told me to leave. Kael—what did you do?" His eyes scanned Kael's face like he was searching for hidden fine print. "Did you call the cops? Or—did you borrow money from those guys on the corner?"
Kael smiled.
It was… not his best work.
Still, he stepped closer and gently tilted Leo's chin, inspecting the damage. His chest tightened. This was the whole reason. This was always the reason. He'd lie, cheat, and metaphorically throw himself into traffic if it meant Leo was standing here instead of behind bars.
"I talked to the manager," Kael said. "Turns out, I got lucky."
Leo blinked.
"You know those internships I've been stressing about?" Kael continued quickly. "The tech firm? They called back tonight. Live-in position. Housing, food—everything included." He added, because why not go all in, "They even gave me an advance. Apparently, I looked… employable."
"At two in the morning?" Leo asked, squinting.
"It's a global company," Kael said smoothly. "Time zones are a thing."
He edged toward the "bedroom," which was really just a corner of the room separated by a curtain that had seen better decades. "But I have to move in tonight. Like—now. They sent a car."
He did not pause for questions. Pausing was dangerous.
Kael started packing fast, shoving his life into two battered suitcases. "I'll send money every Friday," he said. "The rent's covered for a bit. Just—Leo. Please. No more clubs. No more 'quick money' ideas. Go to class."
Leo hugged him hard, face buried in Kael's hoodie. Kael held on, staring at the peeling wallpaper and the stubborn water stain on the ceiling.
He wasn't going to an internship.
He was going to a very fancy cage.
An hour later, everything he owned fit into two suitcases. Which was… depressing, but also convenient. A few textbooks. Some clothes that had survived too many repairs. His mother's silver watch—cracked glass, still ticking, still stubborn.
When he reached the door, he didn't look back.
Outside, a sleek black car waited at the curb, idling like it owned the street. It looked wildly out of place, like it had taken a wrong turn into the wrong life. The driver stepped out, suit immaculate.
Kael stopped short.
"I'm not getting in that," he said.
The driver hesitated. "Mr. Valtieri requested I take you directly to the penthouse, sir. It's quite a distance—"
"Tell Mr. Valtieri I have a bus pass."
Kael turned away before the man could respond.
The wheels of his suitcases rattled loudly against the cracked pavement as he headed toward the bus stop. His arms ached.
The wind cut straight through his jacket, but he didn't slow down. As he walked, his phone beeped with a notification. He pulled it from his pocket and checked the screen.
It was a message.
The sender ID read Jaxen Valtieri.
'You are quite the stubborn type. But here is the address.'
He stared at the message for a moment before slipping the phone back into his pocket. Soon after, he reached the subway and boarded a bus—one headed straight toward the life he had just agreed to live for the next six months.
This was sure gonna be hell.