Axel.
I find him in the student parking lot, waiting by his piece-of-shit car. He’s jittering, phone in hand, stack of bills clutched tight.
When he sees me, his face lights up. Hope and desperation mixed together.
“Koa, man, thank god.” He steps forward. “I’ve been calling everyone. Five times. Nobody’s picking up. Just give me a taste, man. I can pay—”
“No.”
He blinks. “What?”
“You’re done.”
“Come on, don’t do this. You don’t get it, I can—”
“You already paid,” I interrupt. “Through her.”
He freezes. “What the fuck do you mean through her?”
“She offered herself. I accepted.”
His face goes red. “What the fuck are you talking about? You can’t fucking do that!”
“I just did.”
He swings.
Sloppy. Predictable. Fueled by rage and withdrawal.
My reflex is instantaneous. I grab his wrist mid-swing, pivot, drive my elbow into his ribs. He crumples, gasps for air.
One clean hit to the jaw. His head bounces off the car door with a hollow thud.
He drops to his knees, coughing.
I lean down close, voice even. Almost gentle.
“You’re done. Try again, I’ll break your hands. If you don’t fucking stop, I’ll break hers.”
His eyes widen. He knows exactly whohersis.
I straighten up, wipe my knuckles on my hoodie, and walk away before anyone notices the blood.
Back in my dorm, I lock the door and pull the blinds halfway down.
I text Oxy.
Koa:Axel Kane = ghost.
Oxy:Copy.
I pull out my spiral notebook, find Axel’s name, and put an X over it. Press hard enough that the pen tears through the page.
Then I scroll through my call logs and delete every trace. One mistake on campus brings cops, and cops bring questions I can’t answer.
I sit on the bed with my ledger open. Pencil tapping against the page.
County A: clear.
