Incredible Pawn Novels & Stories

the shop owner asked politely. Heaving a sigh, Richard positioned that watch on the desk before the shop owner and looked at him. "I want to pawn this," he said heavy-heartedly. The shop owner stared at that watch and then at Richard. "Is it expensive?" he asked dubiously. It was a small town with limited resources. Though he was a pawn shop owner, he might have never seen something so expensive like that. Richard took out his phone clicked the image of his watch and pressed the search option.

The first thing I think to myself as his words sink in me is ‘what the fuck is he talking about’. What pawn? What revenge game? I feel the dots are staring me right in the face and I can't just seem to connect them. The confusion must be evident on my face because right now, it's Adrian that's laughing and not me anymore.

Disaster struck during my sophomore year. Not only did my family fall into poverty, I ended up getting diagnosed with cancer as well. I was so broke that I only had a hundred dollars left to my name. Desperate for cash, I tried to pawn off the family amulet I had been wearing since I was a child. Unexpectedly, the storekeeper of the pawn shop took a glance before refusing it with a curt shake of his head. “This amulet is cursed. Whoever wears it is doomed to lead a short life. I can’t possibly take it.”

Most of my money was tied up in company stock and long-term investments that would take days to access. But I had jewelry. Expensive pieces men had given me over the years. The diamond bracelet from last Valentine’s Day. The sapphire necklace from my birthday. The vintage Cartier watch I’d bought myself after the Meridian Holdings disaster. A pawn shop would give me cash immediately. I drove across town to a discreet establishment in the financial district. The kind of place that catered to wealthy clients experiencing temporary liquidity problems. They asked no questions and paid fair prices. Forty-five minutes later, I walked out with twenty-eight thousand in cash.

I stared at it for a long second. "Pawn shop," I muttered, zipping the bag. The pawn shop was dim and smelled like old plastic and desperation. The guy behind the counter gave me a look like I was selling memories for pennies. "I'll give you twenty for the necklace and thirty for the bracelet." I stared blankly at him. "It's fourteen-karat gold. You can't be serious." "Ma'am, it's scratched, the chain's worn. Sentimental value doesn't up the price."

Satisfied that the most recent smell of werewolf was at least a few days old, I went back to the front to see what other stores were here. Besides the small sketchy grocery, these was a pawnbroker and a small spa. I decided that the pawnbroker was as good as any place to find a weapon or two, hoping that they at least had some silver jewelry or some such. The door made a pleasant beep as I entered, the neon lights and junk strewn about just shouted desperate situations and last resorts. “Ello! How can I help ya?” An older man with bushy grey eyebrows and a kind smile called from the back display case. “Buying’ or sellin’?”

I have three days to come up with money I don't have for a chance that might not work. "I'll get it." I don't know how, but I'll get it. The pawnshop is on the other side of town, in a neighborhood where nobody looks twice at desperate people selling their dignity for cash. I've walked past it a hundred times. Never thought I'd walk inside. The man behind the counter has the bored look of someone who's seen every version of human desperation. He barely glances up when I set my camera on the glass. "Canon EOS 5D Mark IV," I say. "Professional grade. I bought it three years ago for four thousand dollars."

It was the only thing that had survived the fire, the dungeon, the blood. My fingers trembled as I unclasped it. I stood in silence for a long time before stepping into a tiny pawn shop tucked behind the main street. The man behind the counter didn’t ask questions. He only looked at the pendant, then at me, and slid a few notes across the table. Not much — barely enough. But enough. Outside, the city was loud again. I crossed the street to a vendor’s stall and stopped when I saw it — a simple silver ring, faintly glowing in the afternoon light.

Ren asked. I pressed the crown of my watch twice, ending the recording. "I got it," I said. It wasn't enough to end the empire, but it was a start. Richard Carter's operation had just made its first mistake. They had let me walk out alive.

I pulled the quilt over my lower body and slipped my hand underneath. Not long after, I exhaled. My body felt much better, but it was still far from enough; I desperately wanted to do it with a rugged, powerful man. Before long, Ernest shot to his feet and fumed, "What the fuck? How the hell did I lose again? I lost ten grand just like that!" My heart lurched. Ernest and his friends had taken it way too far; they were already up to swings of ten thousand dollars. Ernest's three childhood friends rose from their seats. "Don't forget what you promised us, Ernest. If Bianca serves us well tonight, we'll write off the ten grand you owe us."