Page 56 of Secured By the Buyer

The cracked sidewalk blurs underfoot, and mypulse thuds in my ears, almost drowning out the distant blare of sirens. I suck in a shaky breath, the stench of rotting garbage filling my nose from overflowing trash bins the city doesn’t always remember to pick up.

My gaze darts left and right, searching for any sign that I’m being watched or followed, but aside from the drunks, the street is deserted. I can’t spot Caleb or Jade, who promised to follow closely, which is good because it means the retrieval team coming for me won’t see them, either.

The sagging porch and peeling paint of my father’s house come into view, the yellow eviction notice bright even without the porch light to illuminate it. The bank moved as fast as I predicted.

I slip up the steps, hopping over the broken tread, and scurry to the front door. When I try the knob, I find it locked, but the spare key is still where I remember, coated in a layer of grime at the top of the door frame.

My skin crawls as I fumble to shove it into the lock. I’ve grown accustomed to being pampered, which makes the filth of this place stand out in stark contrast. The door swings open with a creak, and I pause on the threshold, heart hammering against my ribs.

I take a tentative step inside, the floorboards groaning beneath my weight. The sour stench of cheap booze and stale cigarettes hangs heavy in the air, a suffocating reminder of the life I left. Gritting my teeth, I ease the door shut behind me, wincing as the latch clicks.

When we had discussed where best to ‘run away’ to, we had decided on this location, because scared people always run home. But every fiber of my being hates returning here, temporary as it may be.

My eyes strain to adjust to the light cast by the silent television in the living room, making out the familiar shapes of mismatched furniture and piles of trash. Same old, same old. Guess dear old dad hasn’t changed a bit.

The floorboard creaks beneath my foot, and I wait for his angry voice to yell, but silence fills the house, broken only by the scurrying of rats in the walls.

Empty beer cans crunch under my feet as I make my way to the sagging couch where Dad sprawls across the cushions, one arm dangling, fingers brushing the grungy carpet. The sour stench of stale booze and unwashed flesh hits me like a physical blow, and I gag, covering my nose with my sleeve.

It’s like stepping into a time capsule, everything as I remember. The peeling wallpaper, the water-stainedceiling, the ever-present haze of cigarette smoke. And at the center of it all, the man who made my life a living hell.

Anger surges through me, hot and bitter. This pathetic excuse for a father, who cared more about his next drink than his own son. Who sold me into slavery to pay off his debts, like I was nothing more than a piece of property.

Dad snorts and stirs, bloodshot eyes cracking open. He squints up at me, confusion clouding his features.

“Kat?” he slurs, struggling to sit up. “That you, baby? Knew you’d come crawlin’ back to me.”

My stomach twists with revulsion as he rubs his crotch, mistaking me for my mother, and a lewd grin splits his face. “C’mere and beg like a good bitch.”

“Shut your filthy trap,” I snarl, kicking his leg. “It’s Milo, you drunken bastard.”

He blinks, taken aback. “Milo? Thought I got rid of you. Where’s my money, boy?”

“There is no money.” My hands clench into fists at my sides, nails biting into my palms. “You sold me, remember? To pay off your gambling debts.”

“Ah, quit your whining.” He waves a dismissive hand. “Knew you’d find a way out of it. Always were asmart little shit. Now go get me a beer, would ya? And something to eat. I’m starving.”

Incredulous, I take an angry step forward. “Is that all you have to say to me? After everything you’ve done?”

“What else is there?” He belches, scratching his belly. “You’re here, ain’t ya? No harm, no foul.”

“No harm?” A harsh laugh escapes me, edged with hysteria. “You sold me into slavery, you worthless piece of shit!”

“You got out, didn’t ya?” He shrugs, unconcerned. “Stop being such a pussy and make yourself useful for once.”

Red tinges the edges of my vision, fury boiling up inside me.

“You’re disgusting,” I spit, each word dripping with venom. “A pathetic, miserable excuse for a human who will die alone, choking on your own vomit, just like you deserve.”

Rage contorts his face, and he lunges off the couch, a meaty fist raised to strike. I’m faster, though, and no longer afraid he’ll kick me out. Hand against his chest, I shove him back down among the scattered beer cans.

“You’re nothing to me,” I hiss, towering over hisprone form. “Nothing but a bad memory. And this is the last time you’ll ever see my face.”

I turn to leave, but before I can take a step, the front door explodes inward with a deafening bang.

Men in black pour into the room, shouting orders, guns drawn.

Dad raises his hands in a show of drunken surrender, but I don’t have time to react.

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