Capítulo 2: Chapter 2: A Debt Owed
Emily slumped into the car seat, her chest rising and falling as she tried to catch her breath. The faint scent of leather surrounded her, a strange contrast to the dirt and sweat clinging to her skin. For a moment, the world outside faded—the echo of footsteps, the mocking voices, the fear that had her heart racing. All of it seemed distant now, muted by the quiet hum of the car's engine.
The man beside her glanced in the rearview mirror. His chiseled jaw tensed as his sharp, calculating eyes scanned the road behind them. "You can relax now," he said, his voice calm, almost indifferent. "They're gone."
Emily didn't relax. Instead, she leaned forward, clutching her forehead with trembling hands. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Thank you so much."
He smirked, his lips curving upward in a way that made her uneasy. "Gratitude is good," he said, shifting gears. "But gratitude doesn't pay debts."
Emily froze, her mind racing. "Debts?" she echoed, looking at him, her wide eyes filled with confusion.
He glanced at her, his eyes dark and inscrutable. "You needed help, and I gave it. Now, it's my turn to ask for something." His tone was casual, but the weight of his words hit her like a freight train.
Emily swallowed hard, her throat dry. "What... what kind of help are you talking about?"
He didn't answer immediately, instead focusing on the road ahead. The city lights began to shimmer on the horizon, their glow reflecting in his cold, unreadable eyes. "You'll find out soon enough," he said finally, his voice carrying an edge that left no room for argument.
The car pulled up to the entrance of an upscale hotel. The doorman opened her door, and the chill of the evening air made Emily shiver. She hesitated, gripping the edge of the seat, unsure if she should step out or stay.
"Go inside," the man said, his voice firm. "Room 214. You'll be safe there."
Emily blinked, her instincts screaming at her to run. "Wait... why are you doing this? Who even are you?"
The man turned to face her fully, his intense gaze locking with hers. For the first time, his smirk disappeared, replaced by something darker, something unreadable. "Nathan Moore," he said simply. "Remember the name. You might need it."
Emily stepped out of the car, her legs unsteady as she approached the hotel. The weight of the night's events pressed down on her, each step feeling heavier than the last. Room 214. The words echoed in her mind like a command, pulling her forward despite the uncertainty gnawing at her.
As she reached the room, she fumbled with the keycard the concierge had handed her. The lock clicked, and the door swung open to reveal a suite bathed in warm golden light. It was luxurious, too much so for someone like her—soft carpets, plush furniture, and a bed that looked like it belonged in a magazine. But Emily barely noticed. Her body ached, her mind spiraling with questions and doubts.
She collapsed onto the edge of the bed, her fingers gripping the crisp sheets. Who was Nathan Moore, and why had he helped her? What kind of debt was he expecting her to repay?
Her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp knock at the door. Her heart leapt to her throat as she scrambled to her feet. "Who's there?" she called, her voice trembling.
"It's room service, miss," came a polite reply. "Mr. Moore requested dinner be sent up."
Emily hesitated, then cautiously opened the door. A cart with silver domed trays was wheeled in, the aroma of freshly cooked food wafting into the room. She hadn't realized how hungry she was until now. The waiter set everything up and left with a polite nod, leaving her alone once more.
Sitting at the small dining table, Emily lifted the dome from one of the trays, revealing a perfectly cooked steak and a glass of red wine. As tempting as it looked, the idea of accepting anything more from Nathan made her stomach twist.
Still, she picked at the food, each bite mechanical as her mind wandered. Whatever Nathan's motives were, she knew one thing: nothing came for free. And debts, no matter how small, always came due.
She glanced at the bedside table, where a single white card sat neatly placed. Picking it up, she read the bold, elegant lettering:
Nathan Moore
CEO, Moore Enterprises
Her blood ran cold.
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