Wrong Order

Nathaniel

Another painfully groan tore from my lips as I tried wrapping my bruised fingers.

I was back in my tiny shabby apartment, which thankfully could accommodate my small bed, and a small desk and table.

Gritting my teeth, I finally bandaged it properly, letting out an exhausted gasp.

I flexed my fingers slowly, testing the pain. It burned, but nothing seemed broken. Just swollen and bruised.

My apartment was suffocatingly small. Peeling paint. A flickering bulb above my desk. The mattress springs creaked every time I shifted my weight. This was what a “full scholarship” looked like when it didn’t cover life.

I let my head fall back against the wall. For a second, just a second, I allowed myself to breathe.

Then my phone rang.

I didn’t need to look at the screen to know who it was.

I stared at it anyway.

Mom.

Of course.

I closed my eyes before answering. “Hello.”

“Nathaniel.” Her voice came sharp and impatient. “Why did it take you so long to pick up?”

“I was in the bathroom,” I lied quietly.

She clicked her tongue. “Listen, we don’t have time. Your brother’s treatment is scheduled again next week. The doctor said he needs another round. It’s urgent.”

My jaw tightened. There wasn’t even a “how are you?”

“That’s… good,” I said slowly. “Is he feeling better?”

“That’s not the point,” she snapped. “The hospital is asking for payment upfront this time. We’re short.”

We’re short.

They were always short.

“And how much is it?” I asked, even though my stomach was already sinking.

“$3,500.”

“I don’t have that much,” I whispered.

“Well, he’s your brother!” she shot back instantly. “Or have you forgotten that? You’re the one studying in that big elite school. You’re the one with opportunities. We sacrificed so much for you.”

Sacrificed.

The word tasted bitter.

I looked through my apartment window. “I send money every month,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “Everything I can spare.”

“And it’s not enough!” she hissed. “Do you think illness waits for your convenience? He didn’t choose to be sick, Nathaniel.”

Neither did I choose this life.

But I didn’t say that. I never did.

She exhaled loudly into the phone. “If you can’t even help your own family, then what’s the point of all that studying? All that pride?”

The guilt landed exactly where she aimed it. They were never supportive and were against me studying because they saw it as a waste of money, but I saw it as an opportunity to escape this ridiculous situation called life.

My fingers throbbed under the bandages.

“I’ll send it,” I heard myself say.

There was no hesitation in her reply. “Good. I knew I could rely on you.”

Not “Are you okay?”

Not “How are your classes?”

Just relief that her problem was solved.

“I’ll transfer it in a few days,” I added quietly.

“You’d better,” she warned. “The doctor won’t wait.”

The line went dead.

I stared at the screen long after the call ended.

For a moment, I wanted to throw the phone across the room. Scream. Cry. Anything.

Instead, I placed it carefully on the desk.

my brother's treatment. My brother Ethan was diagnosed with blood cancer three years ago, which was the active cause for our family breakdown.

My dad eventually got tired of handling everything, including my depressed, alcoholic mother, and he ran away. I don’t blame him. I never did, and I secretly wished he had taken me with him. Maybe my life would have turned out better.

Mom’s depression got worse after my father left, along with Ethan’s condition, and his expensive medical treatment was something only I couldn’t juggle.

Which was why I saw this school as an escape from that death hole which kept draining and sucking the life out of me.

Mom has since hated me for taking up the admission, called me selfish and self-centered, and ungrateful for all the things she claimed she had done for me. She accused me of wanting to abandon her and my brother just like my father did.

I chuckled. Yeah, my life was pretty much shitty and fucked up.

My phone lit up with a notification. It was a message from Reina, which included all the information I needed to know about tonight.

I still couldn’t believe that I was getting myself into such dangerous shit, which could literally get me killed or worse, expelled.

‘Don’t mess things up. Get in there, and get out.’

I stared at the message for a long time.

Location: VELVET ROOM

Time: 9:00 PM

Target: Liam Carrington

Task 1: Slip it into his drink

Task 2: Deliver the package to the man in the grey suit near the VIP lounge

Payment: $5,000

Five thousand.

More than what my mother just asked for. More than I’d ever held in my account at once.

My stomach twisted.

I unlocked the second message. A photo loaded slowly.

A tall man, dark-haired, and definitely looked dangerous, with the amount of tattoos inked on his skin.

My bandaged fingers tightened around the phone.

This was insane.

One wrong move and I could get arrested. Expelled. Ruin everything I’d worked for. My scholarship. My future.

“It’s not like I have a choice.” I exhaled.

An hour later, I was dressed in baggy jeans and a black hoodie. I pushed up my glasses, which had a crack on one of the frames.

I stared at my reflection, chanting the words, “Get in. Get out. And don’t get yourself killed.”

Walking to my desk, I pushed the syringe, slipping it into my hoodie pocket. It was an emergency protective handy drug.

_______

Nervousness knitted deeply in my stomach, causing a nauseous feeling. I arrived at the club ten minutes early, where I was now seated at the bar, trying my best to blend in.

I knew Reina had said get in and get out, but I first needed to analyze my surroundings, and it didn’t take long before I spotted my target.

Liam Carrington.

I adjusted my glasses, trying hard not to seem obvious that I had my eyes on a certain tattooed man.

Squinting through my glasses, I checked my phone and then glanced at the man.

Is it just me, or did the man look ten years younger? Or probably the photo was just poorly taken.

I allowed another twenty minutes to pass, settling for an opportunity to approach him as he had three girls around him.

I kept my head low, fingers curled around a glass of soda I had no intention of drinking.

Focus.

The man I’d been watching finally shifted away from the girls, muttering something before heading toward the corridor that led to the VIP section.

This was it.

I slid off the stool, pulse hammering, and followed at a careful distance.

Up close, my confusion sharpened.

He looked younger than the photo. Less hardened. The tattoos were there, yes, but his face lacked that colder edge.

Maybe the lighting in the club was messing with my perception.

Or maybe I was overthinking.

Don’t think. Just move.

He stopped near a tall table, picking up a fresh drink from a server. The girls rejoined him moments later, laughing at something he said.

I swallowed.

Reina’s words echoed in my head.

Get in. Get out.

I moved closer, pretending to check my phone, pretending to bump into someone in the crowd. My shoulder brushed his arm.

“Sorry,” I muttered quickly.

He barely glanced at me.

Up close, his eyes were lighter than in the picture.

That flicker of doubt returned.

But panic shoved it down.

I reached into my pocket, fingers brushing the small vial.

Quick.

No hesitation.

As one of the girls tugged his arm and he turned slightly, I shifted beside the table. My hand hovered over his glass for half a second.

Then I tipped it in.

It dissolved instantly.

I intentionally bumped into another person, creating the perfect diversion, and slipped into the restroom.

My heart heaving pounded in my throat. My body trembled badly as I turned on the tap, letting the cold water melt my body temperature.

Breathe, Nathaniel… Fuck! That was close.

I swallowed the hardness at the back of my throat. Entering one of the stalls, I did my business, washed my hands, and then stepped out—

My body was instantly slammed against the wall, and in that blur of a second, my glasses were knocked over.

A rough hand wrapped around my throat, accompanied by dark, glaring eyes.

“Surprised? Bitch.” His nails dug harder into my neck.

And when my unsteady gaze settled…

Cold dripped down my spine.

It was him.

Liam Carrington?