My student loans flash through my mind—the six-figure number that haunts my dreams, that follows me through every waking moment. The debt that will take decades to pay off, that will shape every decision I make from the moment I graduate. The weight that's been crushing me slowly since the day I decided to chase this dream.
Freedom from that would be... God, it would be everything.
But what's the real price?
I stand up suddenly, needing to move, to do something besides sit here drowning in possibilities. The apartment feels too small, the walls closing in. I pace from the couch to the window and back again, my thoughts spinning faster with each step.
What does he mean, he needs my skills? What kind of medical services would a man like Richard Blackwood need thathe can't get through legitimate channels? Patching up gunshot wounds in the middle of the night? Performing surgeries off the books? Falsifying medical records?
Or worse?
I stop at the window, pressing my forehead against the cool glass. Outside, the city continues its relentless pace—people walking, talking, living their normal lives while mine fractures around me.
"I can't do this," I whisper to my reflection, pale and wide-eyed in the glass.
Can't you?
The thought slithers through my mind, cold and dangerous. Because the truth is, I've already crossed lines I never thought I would. Working at Rhapsody. Getting involved with Ian. Turning a blind eye to the things that happen behind closed doors.
I've been compromising piece by piece, justifying each step with necessity, with survival. Is this really so different?
Yes. It is.
This isn't some gray area. This would be a deliberate choice to enter Blackwood's world fully, to tie my future to his, to become complicit in whatever he's involved in.
I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly cold despite the warmth of the apartment. What happens if I say no? Blackwood isn't a man accustomed to rejection. What if refusing him puts a target on my back?
And Ian…. Would he be relieved I'm staying out of it, or would he push me to take the deal? After all, he's Blackwood's man through and through. Would this drive us apart or pull us closer together?
My stomach twists at the thought. Things with Ian are already complicated enough—this tangled web of attraction andfear, of tenderness and violence. This would add another layer I'm not sure we could navigate.
I turn away from the window, my gaze landing on the stack of medical textbooks on my coffee table. Years of work. Years of sacrifice. Years of holding onto this dream with both hands even when it felt impossible.
Would I be betraying that dream by taking Blackwood's offer? Or would I be ensuring it comes true?
The cold, practical part of my brain—the part that's gotten me this far—whispers that I'd be stupid to turn him down. That this is an opportunity that comes once in a lifetime. That pride is a luxury I can't afford.
But the part of me that still believes in right and wrong, in the oath I'll someday take to do no harm—that part screams that this is wrong. That some prices are too high, no matter how tempting the reward.
I drop back onto the couch, my head in my hands. The truth is, I don't know if I'm strong enough to say no. Don't know if I'm brave enough to walk away from the solution to all my problems, even if that solution comes with strings that might strangle me.
Because beneath the fear and the moral quandaries and the what-ifs, there's a terrible certainty growing in the pit of my stomach:
Richard Blackwood isn't really asking. He's telling.
The "opportunity" is an illusion of choice. The contract is already written. The future already mapped out.
And deep down, I know there's only one answer I can give.
The realization leaves me hollow, a shell filled with dread and resignation. I've been kidding myself thinking I had any real agency in this situation. From the moment Richard walked through my door, the decision was made. The rest is just... processing. Acceptance.
I wipe at my eyes, surprised to find them wet. When did I start crying? I don't even know anymore.
The club is different tonight.Rhapsody pulses with a nervous energy that wasn't here before. The music throbs through the floorboards, vibrating up through my bones, but there's a tension beneath it—something electric and dangerous.
Security at the entrance was tighter. No phones. No cameras. No exceptions. The bouncers checked bags and pockets with methodical precision, their faces grim masks of determination.
I slide through the crowd, hyper-aware of every gaze that lingers too long. Are they recognizing me? My skin crawls with the possibility.
