Chapter 3

The next few days went by quietly but not in the Miller household. It was Friday morning and as early as 6 am, Silas Vane had barged in and taken Zane away. He had dragged Zane to his warehouse and had his boys beat him up.

Zane fell, hitting his body against the cold floor. He gasped in horror as pain seared though his side.

“Nngh…please…”

Silas boots pressed against his ribs, sending waves of pain to his brain. He wasn’t sure which part of him hurt more, his body, or the parts inside that had given up long before the beating started.

Silas Vane stood over him, sleeves rolled to the elbow, showing the dreadful tattoo inked on his arms, his knuckles dusted in blood.

He was perfectly calm, like he was choosing wine and not somebody’s fate.

“You don’t borrow what you can’t repay boy.”

Zane struggled to sit up but his body was in so much pain. His ribs hurt like hell and he just couldn’t move.

“I... I’ll get it… I… I swear, I just need more time… please”.

“You see,” Silas said, almost conversationally, “what I can’t stand more than thieves… are cowards. You came to me, Zane.” He chuckled. “All charm, no backbone. You looked me in the eye and promised you’d pay back ten grand and then disappeared.”

Zane swallowed thickly. His mouth tasted of blood and panic.

“I… I had every intention…”

“Don’t insult me.” Silas cut in immediately.

He crouched beside Zane, his voice getting softer.

“The second you touched my money you should have known this day would come, you filth”.

Zane shivered in fear as he felt Silas dragging the back of his gloved hand across his shoulders like he was brushing off filth.

Silas rose.

Behind him one of his burly men stepped forward. He was thick necked, had cracked knuckles, his palms coarse from a lot of hard work. A man built to torture.

His face was void of any emotions as he walked over to where Zane was sprawled on the ground.

Zane with all of his strength tried to get up and run but all he could was crawl away to some distance as his wallet slipped from his inside jacket pocket. It landed face-up, half open.

Silas bent down and picked it up, simply for amusement. He thumbed through it slowly as if not noticing the wails from Zane as he was beat up.

Receipts, expired bus tickets, folded cash maybe worth 20 bucks at most. And then, he stopped.

A photo, the woman’s face smiled back at him, soft waves of dark hair, clean features, a kind of quiet pride in her eyes that cameras couldn’t fake.

He studied it for a long moment.

“Stop!” He yelled at the burly man who was enjoying his moment with Zane.

“Who is she?” He lifted the photo at Zane.

What?” Zane managed to open his eyes.

“This chick.” He brought the photo closer to Zane’s eyes so he could see. “Doesn’t look like your girlfriend. She’s too good for that… your sister?”

Zane hesitated he had forgotten that picture was even in his wallet, he had taken it to show his friends he had a beautiful sister when they didn’t believe him.

Silas’ kick to his stomach brought him to the present. It seemed a wound had reopened from the pain he felt.

Try again”, Silas looked at him.

“Okay, okay, okay. She’s… yeah, she’s my sister”. Zane uttered immediately, not wanting to relive another torture.

Silas looked back at the picture. A cold smile played on his lips.

“Pretty”, he said softly, his eyes betraying a bit of lust.

“So here’s what we’ll do”.

Zane’s stomach twisted before the words even landed.

“Bring her to me, one night”. He placed the photo back in the wallet and put it back in his jacket pocket, like a contract.

“You make that happen… and I’ll forget your debt”.

Zane stared at him, heart pounding in his ears.

“What…what are you saying? You want me to sell out my sister?”

Silas rose to his full height, adjusting his sleeves, tone suddenly bored again.

“Don’t be dramatic. I’m giving you a way out. You think I don’t know what losing fifty grand feels like?” He glanced back over his shoulder, “or an arm?”

Zane couldn’t speak. He could barely breathe.

“Your move, little brother,” Silas said, walking away with a faint smile. “Clock’s ticking. And let’s be honest…”

He looked back. “We both know she’s worth a lot more than fifty thousand.”

At the Miller residence, Mrs Miller paced around the living room worriedly, she was going frantic at the thought of her son without an arm.

Her husband Mr Miller tried to calm her down but couldn’t as he also was worried. But Zane had gotten himself into this and they couldn’t do anything about it. Selena was their only hope but she had refused, she wasn’t wrong though, she didn’t deserve to pay for Zane’s mishaps.

The front door unlocking drew them away from their thoughts. Zane walked in, so much in pain and his mother tried to help him.

“Oh my goodness Zane! What have they done to my poor boy?” Her eyes snapped to Zane’s bruises, her heart aching as she saw her son in so much pain.

He immediately dropped onto the edge of the couch groaning in pain as he clutched his side.

“Your arm, it’s okay?” She looked at him surprisingly, “What exactly happened?”

Zane nodded, his voice a bit strained, “He gave me a way out”.

“What way?” Mrs Miller’s eyes narrowed.

“He saw Selena’s picture in my wallet”, Zane looked away.

A long silence stretched between them.

“And?” Mrs Miller asked impatiently.

Zane’s head dropped into his hands. “He wants her. Just for one night. He says if I bring her to him, the debt disappears.”

“And?” she said again, louder this time.

“Mom!”

She stood up, pouring him a glass of water from the bottle.

“Don’t start with your moral garbage now. That girl hasn’t lifted a finger for this family since she left. You think she’s coming up with fifty grand anytime soon? You think she’s sitting around worried about your arm?”

“She’s my sister,” Zane murmured, eyes glossy.

Mrs. Miller scoffed.

“She’s not your blood. She’s a stray we took in. All she does is come in here with her fancy coat and her silence, like she’s better than all of us.”

She sat beside him, leaning in, her voice now calm and cold like a scalpel.

“Look, it’s just one night. She’s a grown woman. You think she hasn’t been with worse men in her life? She’ll be fine. You, on the other hand… if they take your arm, you’ll never recover. Not from that.”

Zane didn’t move.

“You’re asking me to offer up my sister like some… like some…”

“I’m asking you to survive.”

She stood again, arms crossed.

“She made her choice when she walked out of this house. You make yours. And for once, make the right one.”

Mr. Miller said nothing like always. He never did.