Collectors.
Clean jackets. Hard faces. The kind of calm that isn’t peace, it’s practice.
“Please,” Holloway was saying. “I can get it. I can get it tomorrow.”
One of the collectors laughed softly. “You said that yesterday.”
Holloway’s voice cracked. “I had a situation. She… she fought me.”
The collector’s eyes narrowed. “You hit her.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“Doesn’t matter what you meant,” the collector said. “You bring heat to your doorstep, you bring heat to our doorstep. And now the cops are sniffing.”
Holloway’s panic flared. “I didn’t call them!”
“No,” the collector said. “Your girlfriend’s kid did. Or some biker did. Either way, you’re a liability.”
I felt Chains stiffen beside me.
Then the collector continued, almost casual. “And now your debt doubled.”
Holloway made a strangled sound. “I can’t—”
The collector leaned in. “Then you’ll pay another way.”
I didn’t like the way he said it. I didn’t like the angle of his smile.
That’s when Morrison’s cruisers turned the corner, lights slicing the alley into red and blue.
The collectors stepped back like they’d been expecting it, and I realized something chilling.
They weren’t surprised.
They were… prepared.
Morrison got out with two officers. “Raven Holloway! Hands where I can see them!”
Holloway bolted like a rabbit, and one of the officers tackled him hard into the wet pavement.
The collectors lifted their hands, all innocence. “We’re just having a conversation, officer.”
Morrison’s eyes flicked to them. “Names.”
One of them smiled. “Friends.”
Morrison’s jaw tightened. He hated that answer because it was technically legal.
I stepped forward just enough to be seen, not enough to be the story.
The collector’s gaze snapped to me, then to my patches, and something shifted in his face.
Recognition.
Not fear.
Calculation.
“Hell’s Angels,” he said softly. “Didn’t know you were in the charity business.”
I held his eyes. “Didn’t know you were in the child endangerment business.”
His smile thinned. “Kids aren’t our concern.”
“Then you’re in the wrong town,” I said.
Morrison cuffed Holloway while the collectors slid away like oil, disappearing into the shadows of legality.
But as one of them passed me, he leaned close enough that only I could hear.
“This doesn’t end with him,” he murmured. “People who owe don’t stop owing.”
Then he was gone.
I stood there in the alley, feeling the weight of that threat settle on my shoulders like another cut.
Because now this wasn’t just about Raven Holloway.
It was about the invisible chains around Sarah Lane’s life. Chains she never agreed to wear.
And there’s a special kind of rage that comes from seeing a system built to keep decent people trapped.
Chapter 6: The Mother Who Woke Up to a Stranger
Back at the hospital, Sarah Lane woke up with her arm in a splint and pain in her eyes.
Meera was at her bedside like she’d been glued there by prayer.
“Mama,” Meera whispered. “You’re awake.”
Sarah tried to move and winced. Her gaze shifted to me standing near the door, a big man in boots and a tired face.
“Who…?” she croaked.
Meera answered before I could. “He’s Dagger. I texted Aunt Lisa but I got it wrong and it went to him and he came and—”
Sarah’s eyes widened as the story hit her like a wave.
I stepped forward slowly. “Ma’am. I’m sorry we’re meeting like this.”
Her lips trembled. “Why would you…?”
I didn’t have a good answer that fit in a sentence.
So I said the simplest true thing. “Because your kid asked for help.”
Sarah swallowed. Tears gathered, not dramatic, just inevitable. “I tried… I tried to keep her safe.”
“You did,” I said firmly. “But you’re also human. And Raven’s… Raven’s a problem.”
Her face tightened at his name. Shame and anger and grief braided together. “He wasn’t always like that.”
“They never are at the beginning,” I said softly.
