His Debt Paid In Broken Bones

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On the night of my eighteenth birthday, my boyfriends hands were firm on my hips, his voice a low, honeyed lure as he coached me through the end of my innocence.

Quiet now, baby. Just a little more. I want to see you.

But at the exact second I reached the precipice, the world exploded into light. The bedroom lights flared, blindingly bright, and the floor-to-ceiling mirrorthe one Id admired myself in all eveningshattered the illusion. It wasn't a mirror. It was one-way glass.

Behind the glass sat an audience. The citys elite, perched in theater seating, watching my undoing.

By the next morning, a high-definition video of my most intimate moment had been scorched into the digital landscape of our social circle. My reputation was dead on arrival. He, however, walked away with the glamorous title of a "heartbreaker" and a "rogue."

The night we broke up, he left me with only two sentences:

When my sister was being tormented, your brother just stood there and watched. He didn't lift a finger.

Now its your turn to feel what thats like, Nora. This is the debt you owe me.

My parents, desperate to scrub the stain from the family name, threw me out. My brother, Sam, couldnt take the injustice. He went to demand an explanation, but his legs were snapped by the man's security detail. On the way home from the hospital, a "freak accident" involving a hit-and-run left him in a vegetative state.

With nowhere to turn and a mountain of medical bills to keep Sam alive, I became exactly what they wanted me to be: a plaything for the elite. For three years, I drifted through the penthouses of the powerful, trading pieces of my soul for the next month of Sam's life support.

Until tonight. Three years later, I stood before a door at the most exclusive hotel in Chicago.

I looked at the man I hadn't seen in years and offered a practiced, glittering smile.

Sir, did you call for service?

...

Maid or flight attendant?

I held up a black shopping bag, my eyes crinkling at the corners as I looked at Emmett. He stared at me, his eyes dark with a disgust so thick it felt like a physical weight in the room.

Id recommend the flight attendant. Higher altitude, higher stakes, Boss, I drawled, dragging out the last word until it was sickly sweet.

Emmetts hand shot out, wrapping around my wrist like a vice. He jerked me into the room and kicked the door shut. The lock clickeda final, heavy sound.

He didn't hold back. He slammed me against the foyer wall, the air huffing out of my lungs.

Three years, and youve really turned yourself into a common whore? The words were spat through gritted teeth, his face inches from mine.

I swallowed the sharp spike of pain and kept my professional smile pinned in place. Money is money, Boss. Whatever makes the client happy.

He recoiled as if hed touched toxic waste. He pulled a sanitizing wipe from a dispenser on the side table and scrubbed his fingers with a frantic, rhythmic intensity.

Id heard rumors about a new shared toy in the city. Someone whod do anything for a check. I thought it was beneath me to look into it.

He reached into his pocket and threw something at my feet. A pearl hair clip. It hit the marble floor, two of the pearls snapping off and skittering into the shadows. I recognized it instantly.

I was at a board members house for a meeting. I saw this on his floor, he sneered.

I glanced down, then nudged the broken clip away with the toe of my stiletto. Its just a clip, Mr. Blackwood. Hardly worth your stress.

The veins in Emmetts neck bulged. Just a clip? Nora, I gave that to you for your eighteenth

Mr. Blackwood, we arent here for a trip down memory lane, I interrupted, pulling a scrap of white lace from the bag. I brushed the fabric against his chest. You still haven't picked. Though, for an extra fee, I have a nurses outfit in the car.

Slap.

The force of it whipped my head to the side. My ears rang with a dull, persistent roar.

You shameless bitch! he hissed, his finger trembling as he pointed it at me.

I kept my head tilted, a brief, hazy memory flickering through my mind. Once, if I so much as bruised my knee, he would turn pale with worry, cradling my leg and whispering that he wished he could take the pain for me. Now, he looked like he wanted to watch the life leave my eyes.

I wiped a streak of blood from the corner of my mouth and reached into my clutch.

If you like it rough, Boss, that works too.

I pulled out a short, black leather crop and pressed it into his hand. But that costs extra.

Emmett stared at the leather in his palm, then let out a sharp, jagged laugh.

Fine. Fine! he barked. You want to be a dog? Youll do anything for the money? Lets see it.

He grabbed his phone and opened a group chata private channel for the citys wealthiest heirs. He hit the video call button. The screen flooded with faces, the noise of a dozen parties bleeding through the speakers.

Yo, Blackwood! Streaming a late-night show for the boys?

Whos the girl? Body looks lethal.

Emmett propped the phone on the coffee table, the camera aimed squarely at me. He pulled a checkbook from his jacket, scribbled a number, and threw the slip of paper at my chest.

One million dollars.

He pointed to a maid costume on the floor and a leather collar with a metal chain.

Put it on. Put on the collar. Crawl to me and bark for the camera.

The men on the screen went wild as they recognized me.

Is that Nora Moore? The fallen princess?

Shes a pro. Come on, Nora, lets hear it!

I looked down at the check resting on the rug. One million dollars. That was six months of Sams experimental treatment in the ICU.

I didn't hesitate for a single second.

I knelt, picked up the check, folded it neatly, and tucked it into my bra. Then, in front of hundreds of people watching through the screen, I shrugged off my coat. I took the leather collar, buckled it around my own throat, and dropped to all fours.

I began to crawl toward Emmetts polished leather shoes.

Enough!

Emmett kicked the coffee table aside and grabbed his phone, smashing it against the floor.

Does it get you off? Humiliating yourself like this?

I just looked up at him, my smile as sharp as a razor.

As long as youre satisfied, Boss.

I dont remember leaving the hotel. All I remember is that Emmett, despite his fury, never touched me. He couldn't bring himself to touch something he considered so filthy.

As soon as I hit the street, my phone buzzed. A text from a regular, a tech mogul named Miller.

Same place. Same price.

I hailed a cab and headed for one of the most discreet private clubs in the city. Half an hour later, I was walking into a VIP suite filled with the thick scent of expensive cigars and the heavy silence of men with too much power.

In the center of the room stood a waist-high iron cage.

Miller blew a plume of smoke and kicked the bars. Noras here. Strip.

I didn't flinch. I reached for my zipper and let my clothes fall to the floor. I climbed into the cold, cramped cage.

Click.

Miller locked the door himself.

Lets try something new, he said, sliding his Rolex off his wrist and dropping it through the bars. Give us a show. Be the bitch we know you are. If youre convincing, the watch is yours.

The room erupted in laughter. Miller, youre making it too easy. Shes better than any dog Ive ever owned.

I stared at the watcha piece of hardware worth fifty thousand dollars. I lowered my body to the floor of the cage.

Whatever the client wants, I purred.

I arched my back, and someone threw a wad of cash through the bars.

Look at her! So pathetic!

Louder!

Car keys, poker chips, and crumbled bills rained down on me like I was a beggar in the street. I didn't move. I just gathered the scraps beneath me, putting on the performance they paid for.

Suddenly, a literal rain of red billsthousands upon thousandspoured over the top of the cage, nearly burying me.

Bang!

The cage door was kicked open.

I looked up. Emmett was standing there, his face pale, his jaw set so tight I thought his teeth might crack.

Is this enough for the night? he asked, his voice trembling with a flicker of something I couldn't identify. Take the money and get out!

The room went silent. The other men traded looks, but no one dared challenge a Blackwood.

I reached for the cash, but a soft, feminine voice drifted from the doorway.

Emmett, darling? Why are we making such a scene?

Isabella Montgomery walked in, her diamonds catching the light. She was Emmetts fiancethe heiress to a medical empire. She looked at me in the cage, her eyes glinting with pure, unadulterated malice.

Oh, look, its Nora. I wondered what was upsetting you.

She leaned into Emmett, looping her arm through his. Ive never seen a show like this. Why stop now?

Emmetts body went rigid. He looked at Isabella, then down at menaked and shivering on the floor of a cage.

He smiled. It was a cold, dead thing.

Youre right. If you want to see it, shell keep going.

Emmett reached for a silver champagne bucket filled with ice and water. He walked to the cage and...

Splash.

The freezing water hit me like a physical blow. I couldn't stop the violent shudder that took over my limbs.

If you love being a dog so much, you can stay in the cage all night, Emmett said, dropping the empty bucket. He looked around the room. Keep going. Its on my tab.

With Emmetts blessing, the room turned feral. Isabella leaned against his chest, watching the sport. Emmett sat on the leather sofa, a glass of bourbon in his hand, watching me with eyes like ice.

I endured until dawn. When the crowd finally dispersed, I was a map of bruises and burns. I crawled out of the cage, my fingers trembling as I stuffed the cash and the Rolex into my bag.

A pair of diamond-encrusted heels appeared in my field of vision. Isabella knelt, her heel grinding into the back of my hand as I tried to pick up the last of the bills. I didn't make a sound.

How tragic, Nora, she whispered. She pulled a gold-embossed business card from her clutch and forced it into my mouth. Because you entertained me tonight, Ill give you a lead.

My family owns the top neuro-recovery team in the world. Do one more job for me, and Ill send them to save your brother. Ill make sure he wakes up.

She smirked. Think about it. Its his last chance.

The next day, I called the number. An hour later, I was driven to a secluded estate in the hills.

I was led to the master suite. The air was thick with expensive incense. A man sat on the edge of the bednot like the men from the clubs. He had sharp, predatory eyes that watched me without the usual smugness.

He looked me up and down. You really are as beautiful as they say. No wonder theyre all obsessed with you.

He gestured to a black gift box at the foot of the bed. Open it. Put it on.

I walked over and lifted the lid. My breath hitched.

Inside was a high school uniformblue and white. The crest of our old academy was embroidered on the pocket. This was the same style of outfit I had been wearing the night my life ended.

The man tilted his head. Cant handle it?

I didn't answer. If it meant Sam waking up, Id wear a shroud. I stripped off my clothes and pulled on the uniform. The pleated skirt, the crisp white shirt.

I climbed onto the bed, moving toward him with practiced grace, but he grabbed the back of my neck and dragged me toward the massive floor-to-ceiling window.

Better view here, he whispered.

He pressed me against the cold glass, leaving me completely exposed to the dark night outside. I didn't fight. I leaned into it, playing my part.

Then, the roar of an engine echoed from the driveway below.

Forced against the glass, I looked down. A black sports car had pulled up. Isabella stepped out, clutching Emmetts arm. She looked up and pointed directly at the window where I stood.

Emmett followed her gaze.

The glass was one-way during the day, but at night, with the lights on inside, it was a translucent stage. Just like the mirror on my eighteenth birthday.

Through the darkness, our eyes met. He stared at the uniform.

He froze. His face went through a kaleidoscope of emotionsshock, then something that looked like devastating realization.

We stayed like that for seconds.

Then, he didn't say a word. He wrenched his arm away from Isabella, got back into his car, and tore out of the driveway, disappearing into the night.

The next morning, I walked into the city hospital, my body a ruin of hidden scars. For the first time in three years, I was actually smiling.

Sam was going to wake up. Everything Id enduredthe cages, the collars, the shameit was all worth it.

I pushed open the door to his room, my heart hammering against my ribs.

The bed was empty.

The monitors were dark. The tubes and wires were piled neatly on the bedside table. Even the sheets had been stripped.

I stopped breathing. I grabbed a passing nurse by the arm. Where is he? Sam Moore? Did he move to a ward?

The nurse stopped, her expression softening into a look of deep pity.

Ms. Moore... I am so sorry.

He went into multi-organ failure at 6:00 AM. We tried to resuscitate him for forty minutes... hes gone. They just moved him to the morgue.

The world didn't just break; it detonated.

Gone? No! He cant be gone! I shoved past her, running for the elevators like a madwoman. I have the money! The specialists are coming! He has to wait for me!

The morgue was in the basement. When I burst in, the doctor was about to pull a white sheet over a pale, gaunt face.

Dont touch him!

I lunged forward, shoving the doctor aside, and threw my arms around Sams cold, skeletal body.

Sam... Im late. Im so sorry. Please, Im so sorry...

I collapsed onto the floor, burying my face in his neck, let out a sound that wasn't humana raw, jagged wail of pure agony.

The doctor sighed. Hes been unresponsive for three years, Ms. Moore. His body just gave up. You need to sign the papers.

But as the darkness began to swallow me, the sound of heavy, rhythmic footsteps echoed in the hallway. A group of men in dark suits and police uniforms walked in. At the lead was a high-ranking detective.

He walked to the bed, looked at Sam, and suddenly snapped to attention.

Present arms!

Every officer in the room saluted my brothers body with solemn, rigid respect.

I looked up, dazed. The detective knelt beside me, holding a file embossed with a "Classified" red seal.

Are you Nora Moore?

I nodded, numb.

Were late, the detective said, his voice thick with regret. The investigation is closed. Were here to clear your brothers name.

I stared at him. What investigation?

He opened the file. Three years ago, when the Blackwood girl was abducted... everyone thought Sam Moore just stood there. They thought he was a coward who watched it happen.

The detective gripped the file. But the evidence tells a different story. Sam didn't run. He threw himself into the fray. He didn't have a weapon, so he used his own body to shield her. He provoked the kidnappers to keep them from taking her to a secondary location.

The detective stood up. He didn't just watch. He saved her life. The Blackwoods... they had it wrong the whole time.

The room was deathly silent.

Then, a sharp clack echoed from the doorway.

I turned. Emmett was standing there. He was staring at Sam, then at the police, his lips trembling.

What... what did you just say?