Chapter 8-Doubled

Chapter 8

ALLESIA

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I didn't like schools any more than I liked books.

Maybe that explained why the university library's massive oak doors felt heavier than usual. I pulled it anyway and stepped inside, scanning frantically for Renzo among the study tables.

My phone had vibrated with his urgent text during my lesson, and I'd bolted mid-class without a second thought. Fuck them lessons. Whatever Renzo needed, it clearly couldn't wait for the professor to finish droning about supply curves, and my gut had been right often enough lately that I'd stopped arguing with it.

I found him in the back corner, hunched over his laptop, face illuminated by the blue glow of the screen. The way his shoulders dropped told me everything before he even looked up.

"What's wrong? Your text said it was an emergency," I whispered, sliding into the chair across from him.

Renzo glanced around to ensure no one was listening before turning his laptop toward me. On the screen was an email with an attachment: financial records from our family account.

"Everything is getting fucking doubled," he said, voice low. "The insurance is refusing to cover Mum's new treatment protocol. Something about it being 'experimental.'"

I felt the blood drain from my face, the library suddenly feeling smaller, the air thinner. "How much?"

"Ninety thousand for the first six months." He ran his fingers through his already disheveled hair, the gesture of a man who'd clearly been doing that for hours before I arrived. "Plus we still have the mortgage payment due next week, and my tuition installment..."

"And your scholarship only covers half the expenses this semester," I added with an exaggerated sigh.

Renzo nodded grimly. "We're underwater, Les. Completely."

I pulled out my phone, quickly calculating what remained of my savings from that night at the bar, the tips, the money I hadn't spent because spending it felt like admitting something I wasn't ready to admit yet. "I can contribute about fifty thousand from my emergency fund, but that's..."

"Not nearly enough." Renzo closed his laptop with a soft click, the sound somehow louder than it should have been in the quiet of the library. "And that's not all. Remember those men who came looking for Dad's debts last year?"

A chill ran down my spine. "The collection agency?"

"They weren't from any agency." His eyes met mine, dark with worry, the kind of look he usually reserved for the nights Mum's numbers came back worse than expected. "I did some digging. They work for one of those fucked-up families we'd spent the last years running from."

"As in... a crime family?" My voice dropped to barely above a breath.

He nodded. "Dad owed them money. A lot of it. And they've tracked us down. Looks like the whole cover thing is getting blown right in our fucking faces."

The library lights suddenly seemed too bright, too exposing. "Is that why you wanted to meet here instead of at home?"

"Mum received a letter this morning. That's why she called me in such a panic." Renzo pulled a crumpled envelope from his jacket pocket. "They've given us two weeks to pay what Dad owed, plus five years of interest."

I took the letter with trembling hands, scanning the contents. The amount at the bottom made my stomach turn. Five years of compounding interest had turned a bad debt into a number that didn't feel real, the more I looked at it the more the figure looked like it belonged in a headline about someone else's ruined life, not stamped across a page with our address on it. "This is impossible. We can't possibly..."

"I know." Renzo leaned forward. "And there's more. Mum doesn't know this part yet, but they've been watching our house. I spotted a black sedan parked across the street last night, same one that was there three days ago. I didn't want to say anything until I was sure, but I'm sure now."

My mind raced through our options, each one more desperate than the last. "We could sell the house?"

"It would take weeks to close, and we'd still be underwater on the mortgage."

"What about your friend Pa...?" He rolled his eyes, and I swallowed the words, then frowned. "I mean, his family has connections..."

"Already asked. They can't help with this kind of money." Renzo looked defeated, something I rarely saw in my fiercely protective elder brother.

I hesitated, my fingers absently tracing patterns on the wooden table. "There is... one possibility."

Renzo raised an eyebrow. "What?"

The memory of that afternoon in his study, where I'd first encountered Russel Mancini, flashed through my mind. His cold green eyes, the way he'd assessed me like I was a commodity rather than a person, like my worth could be tallied the same way Renzo was tallying our debt right now. And then, hours later, his appearance at the bar where I worked, with that outrageous proposition, and the number that had somehow grown by another million since, sitting untouched in a gift box on my bedside table like a dare I refused to pick up.

"Russel Mancini," the name felt like a forbidden spell on my lips.

Renzo's eyes widened. "The Capo from the bar that night? What about him?"

I swallowed hard. "I didn't tell you everything about that night. I actually met him earlier that day at his place, where I was filling in for Elletra. He... made me an offer."

"You went to his place?"

"For work," I stated. "And that was before I knew him or what he does."

"What kind of offer did he make?" Renzo's voice hardened.

"Three million dollars. For one night with him." The words hung between us like smoke.

Renzo's face darkened. "That entitled son of a..." He didn't finish it, but he didn't need to.

"I turned him down flat," I added quickly. "But with everything that's happening..."

"No." Renzo's response was immediate, firm. "Absolutely not. We'll find another way."

"What other way, Ren?" I gestured to the financial statements still visible on his screen, the numbers glowing accusingly in the dark corner of the library. "We need money, a lot of it, and we need it fast."

"So you're considering prostituting yourself to the same guys you warned me to stay away from?" His voice rose slightly, earning us a stern look from the librarian.

I flinched at his bluntness. "That's not fair. I'm trying to keep us alive."

Renzo's expression softened. "I know, Les. I'm sorry." He reached across the table, taking my hand. "But there has to be another solution. What about that job offer from that downtown research firm?"

"That's only thirty thousand for the entire semester." I shook my head. "And it would mean dropping two classes."

We sat in silence for a moment, our minds running over every possible option. The most coherent thought in my head was a single question: why did some people get to have it easy, and others didn't?

The library hummed with the quiet sounds of students studying, completely unaware of the life-or-death conversation happening just feet away.

"What about Nikolai?" Renzo suggested suddenly.

"What about him?"

"He bailed us out of that police mess last week. He clearly has resources, and he's obviously interested in you."

I scoffed. "I barely know him. And I'm not going to use some guy's crush to solve our problems." Even as I said it, some traitorous part of my brain was already doing the math on how much easier this would all be if I just let one of these men buy our way out, and I hated myself a little for it.

"It's better than Mancini's offer," Renzo countered.

"We are not bringing Nikolai into this," I said firmly. "Or anyone else, for that matter. This is our problem."

Renzo sighed, then straightened up suddenly. "Thinking about this from now until tomorrow is not going to solve anything, is it? We'll only end up with a terrible headache and a shit-ton of trouble. Wait. Didn't Mum say Dad had a safe somewhere? Maybe there's something valuable inside."

"The same safe that got burnt down alongside his other stuff after he died?" I frowned.

"Not all of it burnt. The back storage room was mostly intact. We just never had a reason to go back there."

A flicker of hope sparked within me. "Do you know the combination?"

"No, but Mum might. And if not..." A ghost of a smile appeared on his face. "I did learn a few things about breaking into locked spaces during my rebellious phase."

For the first time since receiving his text, I felt a tiny sense of possibility. "When do we go?"

"Tonight." Renzo began packing up his things, moving with a purpose I hadn't seen in him since before the raid. "After dark. The property's abandoned, but those crooked money guys might be watching it too. We'll need to be careful."

As we prepared to leave, my phone vibrated with an incoming call. The screen displayed a number I didn't recognize, but the area code belonged to the wealthy district across town.

I showed it to Renzo, whose eyes narrowed. "Don't answer it."

But something told me I should. "Hello?"

"Hello, angel." The smooth, self-assured voice on the other end sent a shiver down my spine. "That's a nice little blue dress you have on there."

My blood went cold. I looked down at myself as if I could somehow confirm or deny it just by staring hard enough, though I already knew. Blue dress, exactly as he'd said.

My eyes frantically scanned the library, but all I could see were students hunched studiously over their books. Not one of them was looking at me. Not one of them could have told him what I was wearing even if they'd tried.

How the hell did he know what I was wearing?

I locked eyes with Renzo, mouthing the name silently: "Mancini."

His eyes widened. "What the fuck does he want?"

I quickly put a hand to his mouth. "Shh." I then moved away from Renzo, but he followed me anyway. I groaned and gestured at him not to say anything. I cleared my throat. "How did you get my number?"

"Come on." I could tell he was grinning. "That's the least of your worries."

"What do you want?"

"You know what I want."

"And you're never getting it. Now stop calling my phone, or I'll make sure I report you to the authorities. I bet a lawsuit is not the kind of fun you enjoy."

He laughed. The bastard actually laughed. I wanted to say something else when Renzo snatched the phone from me, and the next thing I knew, he was yelling into the receiver.

"Stay the fuck away from my sister!" he hissed. "You fucking pervert. I'll report you as a fucking rapist if you ever bother her again and stop stalking her!"

He ended the call abruptly, and I stood rooted to the spot, shocked and scared, the phone still warm against my ear long after the line had gone dead.

"That was too much," I said slowly.

"No, it wasn't," Renzo hissed. "These guys thrive on weakness, and if you keep entertaining his foolishness, he'll take it for weakness and do more." He was still breathing hard, jaw clenched, looking every bit like the overprotective brother who'd once threatened to break a boy's nose for walking me home from school a little too slowly.

Just then, the librarian, a stern-looking woman, walked up to us and, without a word, gestured for us to leave. I turned, only to find every pair of eyes in the room on us.

"Damn it."

I rolled my eyes. "We were leaving anyway."

Just as we made for the door, my phone beeped. A text. When I glanced at the screen, my heart dropped to my stomach, and for one long second I couldn't make myself look away from it.