Chapter 2
My knees hurt against hardwood. Back pressed to cream paneling. Phone still hot against my ear. Voice on other end kept talking. "You have one hour, Sadia." Breath caught. Tears blurred hallway.
Door behind me stood open now. Cold air slipped from office. I hadn't heard it open. Hadn't heard him move.
He stood in dark wood doorway. Brass hinge caught warm light. Black satin shirt open at neck. Tattoos climbed throat. Stern face. Eyes locked on me. On phone. On my cracked knuckles pressed to mouth.
I tried to turn away. Shoulder hit wall harder. I whispered into phone, "Please stay away from my brother." Voice broke. Hand shook.
He stepped forward. One step. Then another. No rush. Controlled. Floor creaked under his weight. He didn't ask. He reached down. Large hand hovered near my phone. Not grabbing yet. Waiting.
"Give it here," he said. Low. Quiet.
I shook head. Held phone tighter. Tears ran. "No. I don't— it's nothing—"
"Sadia." His voice dropped lower. "Phone."
Caller still on line. Breathing on other end. Threat hanging. I looked up at him. Eyes wide. He saw everything. My uniform wrinkled. Apron twisted. Knuckles red and abraded. He knelt. Not touching me. Close enough I smelled his cologne and clean cotton.
"Wrong number," I said. Lie slipped fast. "Family issue. Wrong number."
He didn't blink. He extended palm. "Now."
I handed it over. Fingers brushed his. Cold. He brought dark case to his ear. Didn't speak at first. Listened. Jaw tightened. Neck tattoos pulled as he swallowed.
Caller spoke. I couldn't hear words now. His expression went flat. Hard. Restrained anger. Then he said, "Who is threatening you?" Not to caller. To me. Eyes never left my face.
I stared at floor. Brass hinge glinted. "No one."
He spoke into phone. Voice changed. Steel under calm. "Touch the boy and I'll bury your entire crew." Each word slow. Deliberate. No raised voice. Promise, not threat. Caller went silent.
He ended call. Pressed end with thumb. Didn't hand phone back. Held it in palm. Screen dark. Ticking started in my head. One hour. He'd heard deadline.
"Wrong number doesn't give deadlines," he said.
I wiped cheeks with injured hand. Stung. "It was my cousin. He was— he was confused. Family drama."
He stayed knelt. Elbows on knees. Black trousers stretched over muscle. He studied me. Not buying lie. Not calling me liar loudly either. Quiet call-out.
"I heard enough," he said. "I heard one hour. I heard brother. Don't insult me with wrong number."
My breath hitched. I pushed up wall. Tried to stand. Legs weak. He didn't help. Let me struggle. I got to feet. Back against paneling. Uniform stuck to back with sweat.
"Please," I said. "Let me handle it alone."
"Handle what alone?"
"I'll fix it. I don't need help. I can't—" Words tangled. Fear made them small. "I can't lose this job. My brother needs me. If you think I'm trouble, I'll go. Just don't— don't call anyone. Don't get involved."
He stood. Taller now. Shadow fell over me. Hallway warm light made soft shadows behind him. Cream walls felt smaller. He slipped my phone into his shirt pocket. Not stealing. Containing.
"You're not going anywhere," he said. "Not in next hour."
"It's not your problem," I whispered.
"It became my problem when someone threatened a boy in my hallway." Voice stayed low. Controlled. "You live in my house. You work here. That call came here. That makes it mine."
I shook head. Tears came again. "You don't understand. They'll hurt him if I talk. If I bring anyone in, they'll—"
"Who will?"
Silence. I pressed cracked knuckles to mouth. Held breath. He waited. No filling silence. Let it stretch. Natural breathing. I heard his. Heard mine. Clock in distant office ticked.
"Give me hour," I said. One short plea. "One hour. I'll call back. I'll sort it. Please don't fire me."
He looked at phone in pocket. Then at me. At my hands. At doorway behind him still open. Night pressed against windows down hall.
"I heard everything," he said again. Softer this time. Not cruel. Fact. "You begged someone to stay away from your brother. Someone gave you one hour. I buried threat for you on that call. You still lie to my face."
I had no answer. Lie sat between us. Thin. Useless. He knew. I knew he knew.
He stepped back half-step. Gave air. Didn't leave. Leaned shoulder against dark wood trim. Arms crossed. Tattoos stark against black satin.
"Hour runs now," he said. "You don't handle alone. You do it here. Where I see you."
May you like
I slid down wall again. Didn't mean to. Knees gave. Sat on floor. Apron pooled around legs. He didn't move. Didn't leave hallway. Guarded door. Guarded me. Phone stayed in his pocket. My brother's name still unspoken. Debt still hidden. Clock ticked.
He'd heard death threat against brother. Now he held line between me and crew. And I still refused to tell truth.
