Todos os capítulos de THE THIRTY-DAY GAMBLE: Capítulo 31 - Capítulo 40

"Drink it or I'll pour it down your throat."The mug hit the nightstand with a ceramic crack. I tried to lift my head. The room spun like a top. Every bone in my body felt like it had been pulverized and put back together wrong. The air was thick, tasting of iron and peppermint."I don't... I don't want anything from you." My voice was a dry rattle. A ghost. I pushed against the mattress. The silk sheets were cold, then boiling, then cold again."You hit the floor in the hallway, Benjamin. You're lucky I was the one who found you." Jonathan stood over the bed. He wasn't wearing his suit jacket. His sleeves were rolled up, showing the coordinates tattooed on his inner arm. "The doctor said it's exhaustion. Stress. Take the medicine.""Stress? You're the one—ahh!" A sharp spike of heat shot through my skull. I slumped back into the pillows. The light from the chandelier was a serrated blade against my eyes. "Just let me go back to my dorm.""You're in my bed. You're staying in my bed."

"Get your hands off the door, Benjamin. You’re shaking."Jonathan didn’t look up from the tablet in his lap. He sat in the center of the oversized leather sofa, the city skyline bleeding through the floor-to-ceiling glass behind him. The penthouse was silent, save for the hum of the climate control. Cold. Precise. Just like him."I’m here." I stepped into the room. The door clicked shut behind me, the sound echoing like a cell door locking. My palms were damp. I wiped them against my jeans. "Nathaniel is gone. You held up your end. I’m here for mine.""Is that what this is? A debt collection?" Jonathan set the tablet aside. He stood up, his movements fluid, predatory. He wore a black silk shirt, the top two buttons undone. He looked like a man who had never lost a day in his life."It’s a trade." I forced the words out. My throat felt like it was lined with sandpaper. I reached for the button of my jeans. My fingers fumbled. I didn't stop. "You want me to say it? I’m yours. Whatever y

"What the fuck are you doing, Benji?"Nathaniel leaned against the doorframe of my dorm. He held a half-empty bottle of cheap bourbon. His eyes were bloodshot. He looked like the mess I was supposed to be."I'm inviting you in." I stepped back. I didn't smile. My face was a fresh sheet of ice. I’d spent twenty minutes in front of the bathroom mirror with a straight razor. The soft stubble was gone. The boy who looked like he’d been crying over a dead father was gone. My jaw looked like it was carved from a headstone. "The door is open, Nate. Are you coming or not?""You're acting weird." He stepped inside. He tripped over the threshold. The bottle sloshed. "Where's the waterworks? Where’s the 'please don't hurt my sister' speech?""The sister is fine." I walked to the window. I didn't close the curtains. I pulled them wide. All the way. The glass was a cold barrier between me and the night. Across the quad, the penthouse was a dark, jagged tooth against the sky. I knew he was there. I

Put the gun down, Nathaniel."Jonathan didn’t move. He leaned against the hood of his black obsidian sedan, the engine still ticking as it cooled in the damp warehouse air. A single cigarette burned between his fingers, the cherry glowing like a warning light. In his other hand, the grip of a suppressed pistol tucked into his waistband caught the overhead yellow glare. He looked bored. He looked like a man deciding which wine to pair with a funeral."You think you’re in charge here?" Nathaniel’s voice cracked. He gripped the back of my jacket, his knuckles white, shoving the barrel of a snub-nosed .38 into the soft hollow beneath my ear. "I’ve got the Wolves, Hayes. I’ve got half the varsity line behind those crates. You’re alone.""You have a pack of boys who play with balls." Jonathan took a slow drag. Exhaled a thin, grey stream. "I have the deed to the ground they’re standing on. Drop the weapon. Maybe I’ll let you keep your tongue.""He’s lying, Nate!" I shouted. I didn't pull aw

"Wake up, you bastard! Wake up!"I slapped him. Hard. His head snapped to the side, but his eyes stayed rolled back, showing only the whites. A thin line of pink foam bubbled at the corner of his mouth."Is he dead?" Nathaniel’s voice was a jagged glass crawl from the dirt. He was clutching his stomach, his face a purple mess of swelling and leaked blood. "Tell me he's dead, Benji. We can leave. We can just go.""Shut up, Nate." I didn't look at him. I pressed my ear to Jonathan’s chest.Thud. Pause. Thud-thud. Skip.His heart was an engine failing in the cold. The double dose of Loyalty was a death sentence."We have to call the cops," Nathaniel rasped. He started to crawl toward his phone, which lay cracked on the concrete. "They’ll come. They’ll see he’s the one who brought the drugs. They'll see—""They’ll see everything, Nathaniel." I stood up. My legs felt like they were made of water, but my head was a block of dry ice. "They’ll see the stalker software on his phone. They’ll se