บททั้งหมดของ THE THIRTY-DAY GAMBLE: บทที่ 21 - บทที่ 30

"You stay behind me and you don’t breathe a word. Do you understand?"Jonathan’s voice didn't shake. It was a cold blade cutting through the thick, rhythmic pulse of the sirens. He didn't wait for an answer. He shoved Benjamin back against the damp brick, his large frame blocking the boy from the street. The red and blue lights strobed against the alley walls, turning the wet pavement into a flickering bruised purple.Benjamin’s chest heaved. His lungs felt like they were filled with crushed glass. "Jonathan, the bag... they saw me with the bag...""There is no bag." Jonathan pulled a burner phone from his pocket, his thumb flying over the screen. He didn't look at the flashing lights approaching the mouth of the alley. "Shut up and look pretty. Let me handle the heavy lifting."He pressed the phone to his ear. His jaw was a hard line of granite. "Marcus. I'm in the industrial district. North alley of the meatpacking plant. I have two cruisers at the perimeter. Kill the dispatch repor

"You’re kidding me. Tell me you’re f**king kidding me."Benjamin slammed his hand against the side of the rusted moving van, the metal rattling under the impact. The sidewalk was a graveyard of cardboard boxes and bubble wrap. Men in charcoal-grey uniforms—too professional for this neighborhood, too expensive for this zip code—carried a velvet-tufted headboard through the narrow lobby door of his building."I don't make jokes about real estate, Benjamin. It's a waste of capital."Jonathan stood at the top of the concrete steps, silhouetted against the dim amber glow of the lobby's flickering light. He wasn't in a suit. He wore a heavy black sweater, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, exposing the thick veins of his forearms. He looked down at Benjamin like he was surveying a newly conquered province."What is this?" Benjamin took the stairs two at a time, his sneakers squeaking on the grit. He shoved past a mover carrying a crate of crystal glassware. "You bought the building? The whole

"Who the hell is that guy, Ben? The one in the leather jacket by the gate?"Olivia's voice crackled through the phone, high and thin. Benjamin froze in the middle of the school corridor. He gripped the plastic casing of his phone until his knuckles went numb. The air in the hallway felt suddenly thin, smelling of floor wax and old lockers."What guy? Liv, stay in the crowd. Where are you?""Just leaving campus. He’s been leaning against a black bike for twenty minutes. He looked right at me. He’s... Ben, he’s smiling at me. It’s creepy. Do you know him?"Benjamin’s stomach bottomed out. He didn't need a description. He knew the shark-grin. He knew the way Nathaniel Price picked his teeth while he watched a target."Don't look at him. Walk toward the bus stop. Now. Stay where there are people, Liv. I'm coming to get you.""What the f**k is going on, Ben? You’re scaring me!""Just move!" Benjamin slammed his locker shut, the metal bang echoing like a gunshot.He spun around and collided

"You’re the new face of the Northwood Wolves, Parker. Captain’s badge is on the desk. Don’t get blood on it."Coach Miller didn’t look up from his clipboard. He just tapped a thick, calloused finger against a heavy gold-plated pin sitting on the scarred wood of his desk. The office smelled of stale sweat, sour laundry, and the sharp, chemical tang of the new floor wax Jonathan’s money had bought.Benjamin didn't move. He stood in the doorway, his sneakers digging into the industrial carpet. "I didn’t win the vote, Coach. Miller and Thompson have been in the program for four years. I’ve been here for five minutes.""Votes are for student council, kid." Miller finally looked up, his eyes bloodshot and fixed on the door behind Benjamin. He looked like he was staring at a ghost—or a man who owned his mortgage. "We went with leadership potential. And resources. You’ve got both.""Resources? You mean Jonathan Hayes’ checkbook?" Benjamin’s voice cracked. He surged forward, his hand slamming

"You’re staining the mahogany, Benjamin. Move."Jonathan didn’t look up from his tablet, but his hand was already in motion. A flick of his wrist. The heavy glass bottle of permanent black ink tipped. It didn't just fall; it dove. The liquid hit Benjamin’s white cotton shirt in a violent, spreading bloom of charcoal. It soaked through the fabric instantly, cold and clinging against his skin."What the—! Jonathan!" Benjamin scrambled back, his chair legs screaming against the marble floor of the private study wing. He looked down at his chest. The stain was a jagged heart of black, weeping toward his waistband. "That’s my only clean shirt. Do you have any idea what this costs to replace?""I'll buy you ten more. Relax." Jonathan stood up, his movements fluid, predatory. He didn't reach for a napkin. He reached for Benjamin’s collar. "Take it off. The ink is caustic. It’ll itch like hell once it dries.""I’m not stripping in the middle of the library." Benjamin swiped at the mess, but h