The Triple Don't: Daniels' Debt

"Move it, Kane. The bikes aren’t going to polish themselves, and the kitchen looks like a crime scene."

I didn't look up from the grease-stained floor of the Moretti Family Estate. "It’s 5:00 AM, Teo. The sun isn't even up."

"And yet, here you are, slacking," Matteo “Teo” Moretti sneered, kicking my bucket over. Soapy water bloomed across the tile, soaking my boots. "Happy birthday for tomorrow, Charity Case. Or should I say, happy debt-anniversary?"

I stared at the mess. Tomorrow was November eleventh. I was turning eighteen, the age where most girls in the Syndicate started looking for a way out or a way up. For me, it was just the day I officially became property. It was also the twenty-first birthday of the Moretti triplets—the princes of the Blackridge underworld.

"Teo, leave the girl alone," Luca Moretti called out, leaning against the doorframe. He looked like a saint and acted like a devil. He walked over and tugged a strand of my hair loose from my bun. "She’s got a big day. First day as a legal asset of the Moretti high-tech empire. We wouldn't want her falling asleep at the servers, would we?"

"Get lost, Luca," I muttered, grabbing a rag.

"Watch the tongue, Daniels," Nickie “Nic” Moretti’s cold, authoritative voice cut through the room. The eldest. The future Don. He stepped into the kitchen, his leather jacket smelling of gasoline and expensive cologne. "My father didn't buy your parents' drug debts just for you to give us attitude. You’re a Kane. Your name is dirt in this city. Be grateful you’re cleaning our floors instead of rotting in a ditch like Victor and Helena."

"I’m working it off, Nic. Every hour is logged," I said, my voice trembling despite myself.

"You'll be working it off until you're gray," Nic replied, his blue eyes icy. "Now, quit stalling. We have a War Council meeting at the Stronghold later. Breakfast. Now."

I moved like a ghost through the kitchen, dodging the triplets as they shoved each other and laughed, their massive frames dominating the room. They were 6'4" of pure muscle and ego, bred for the biker life and polished by the tech billions the Morettis pulled from their "legitimate" software fronts.

"Is that the last pancake, Charity?" Teo asked, his hand blurring as he snatched the plate from under my nose.

"I haven't eaten since yesterday," I said, my stomach churning.

"Keep it that way. Those leggings are looking tight, and the Syndicate doesn't need a heavy load on the back of a bike," he laughed, shoving the entire thing into his mouth.

"I’m not a biker, Teo. I’m an analyst in training. That was the deal," I reminded him, clutching my hands into fists.

"The deal is whatever Nic says it is tomorrow," Luca whispered in my ear, his breath hot. He reached out and snapped my hair tie, letting my blonde curls fall over my shoulders. "Wear it down, Daniels. It makes you look less like a servant and more like a target."

I didn't cry. I hadn't cried since I was nine years old, the year the Morettis hauled me out of a crack house and told me I owed them my life. Tomorrow, I’d be eighteen. I’d have my degree soon. I just had to survive the Moretti brothers for seven more months.

At Virelli Luxury Plaza, the atmosphere was thick with the scent of wealth and exhaust. I was trying to slip into the back of the tech wing when Juliette Knox and Yva Sinclair blocked my path.

"Look at those patches on that jacket," Juliette laughed, flicking the sleeve of my oversized coat. "The Morettis really keep their charity cases on a budget, don't they?"

"Leave it, Juliette," I said, trying to push past.

"Wait," Yva said, looking at me with a strange, calculating glint. "You're actually decent-looking under all that grease, Daniels. If you had the credits, you might actually pass for Syndicate royalty."

"I just want to get to my terminal," I muttered.

"We have a problem," Juliette said, dropping the act. "Professor Havenway is threatening to boot us from the Syndicate’s junior coding program if we don't ace this encryption final. If we fail, our fathers will pull our bike privileges."

I looked at the tablet she was holding. It was high-level stuff, but to me, it was a nursery rhyme. "I can fix it. I’ll ghostwrite the code for both of you. You just have to input it with your own signatures."

Juliette and Yva exchanged a look. "What do you want for it, Charity?"

"A set of clean clothes. A burner phone. And a new hair tie," I said, my voice steady. "And don't ever call me Charity again."

Mina squinted at me, her red lips curving into a smirk. "Deal. But if we get caught, we’ll tell Nic you tried to sabotage us."

"You won't get caught," I said, reaching for the tablet. "I’m a Kane. We’re experts at disappearing."