the debt
Gage learned early that silence was safer than hope.
The apartment smelled like stale beer and burned oil, the kind of smell that never left no matter how many windows you opened. The television flickered in the corner, volume too loud, a horse race blaring while his father shouted at the screen like it could hear him. Empty bottles crowded the table. Crumpled betting slips littered the floor.
Gage stood near the doorway, shoulders tense, hands shoved into the pockets of his worn jacket. Inside the lining, stitched carefully by his own hand, was a small bundle of cash. Every dollar he’d earned scrubbing dishes, unloading trucks, fixing fences, running errands for people who barely learned his name. Money he’d hidden for years so it wouldn’t disappear into liquor or cards.
Tonight, it wouldn’t matter.
“Sit,” his mother snapped without looking at him.
He didn’t move at first. His instincts screamed the way they always did—don’t corner yourself, don’t let them see fear. But two men in black suits stood behind him, blocking the door. They were calm in a way that was worse than anger. One of them rested a hand casually on his coat, where something heavy clearly waited.
Gage sat.
His parents finally looked at him then. Not with guilt. Not with regret. Just impatience, like he was late for something inconvenient.
“You’re going to behave,” his father said, voice slurred but sharp. “Say what you’re told.”
Gage’s jaw tightened. “Why are they here?”
No one answered him.
One of the men stepped forward. “Gage Holloway,” he said smoothly. “You’re eighteen years old.”
Gage nodded once.
“You understand your parents owe a very large debt.”
“I know,” Gage said. He’d always known. The whispered phone calls. The threats left on voicemail. The way his parents suddenly became polite whenever strangers showed up.
The man smiled faintly. “Good. That makes this easier.”
His mother leaned forward. “We made a deal,” she said quickly. “You’re part of it.”
Something cold settled in Gage’s chest. “What kind of deal?”
His father finally met his eyes. There was relief there. Not shame—relief.
“You’re going with them.”
The words didn’t register at first.
“Going… where?” Gage asked.
“To the Crimson Dragon,” the man said. “You’ll be meeting the boss.”
Gage’s breath caught. Everyone knew the name. Everyone knew what happened to people who crossed them.
“I didn’t gamble,” Gage said quietly. “I don’t owe anything.”
His mother scoffed. “Don’t be dramatic. You’ll be fine. They’re not killing you.”
That was when he understood.
They weren’t giving him up.
They were trading him.
The men moved fast after that. There was no time to argue, no time to think. Gage was escorted down the stairwell, past neighbors who stared and pretended not to. Outside, rain slicked the pavement, neon lights bleeding into puddles like spilled blood.
The car was black, expensive, soundproof.
As the door shut, Gage pressed his fingers into his palm until it hurt. Pain grounded him. Pain was familiar.
Survive, he told himself. Just survive.
The Crimson Dragon estate sat beyond the city, hidden behind iron gates and tall stone walls. Guards stood everywhere, silent and alert. Gage felt like prey walking into a den.
Inside, the air changed.
Clean. Cold. Controlled.
He was led through wide halls lit by soft lanterns, past men and women who bowed slightly—not to him, but to the space ahead. The message was clear: know your place.
The doors at the end of the hall opened.
She was already waiting.
Akane Yumiana sat at the head of a long table, posture straight, hands folded calmly in front of her. She looked young—too young for the power she carried—but there was nothing soft about her presence.
Her hair was pure white, smooth and straight, falling past her shoulders like freshly fallen snow. Her eyes were red—not bright, not theatrical, but deep and steady, like embers that never cooled. When she looked at him, it felt like being measured down to the bone.
This was the boss of the Crimson Dragon.
Nineteen years old.
And utterly terrifying.
“Leave us,” Akane said.
Her voice was quiet, controlled. The guards obeyed instantly.
The doors closed.
Silence filled the room.
Gage stood where they left him, spine rigid, heart pounding. He refused to bow. Not out of disrespect—out of instinct. Bending meant breaking.
Akane studied him for a long moment.
“You’re smaller than I expected,” she said.
Gage swallowed. “Sorry to disappoint.”
Something flickered in her eyes. Amusement? Interest?
“Sit,” she said.
He hesitated, then took the chair across from her. The table between them felt like a battlefield.
“You know why you’re here,” Akane said.
“My parents owe money,” Gage replied. “They decided I was worth more than their debt.”
“Correct.”
She didn’t soften it. She didn’t pretend.
That honesty startled him more than cruelty would have.
“They offered you to us,” Akane continued. “Labor. Leverage. A warning.”
Gage clenched his fists. “And what do you want?”
Akane leaned back slightly, red eyes never leaving his face.
“I want a husband.”
The word hit him harder than a slap.
“…What?”
“A marriage,” she said calmly. “Legal. Public. Binding.”
Gage laughed once, sharp and disbelieving. “You’re joking.”
“I don’t joke,” Akane replied.
His pulse thundered. “Why me?”
“Because you have nothing,” she said simply. “No alliances. No loyalty to rival families. No reason to betray me.”
“That’s not—”
“And because,” she added, cutting him off, “your parents’ debt dies with this arrangement.”
The room felt too small. Too tight.
“So this is it,” Gage said. “I’m traded from one cage to another.”
Akane’s gaze sharpened. “You’re alive.”
“For now.”
She considered him. “I won’t touch you without consent. I won’t hurt you for sport. And I won’t kill you unless you force my hand.”
That wasn’t comfort.
But it was something.
“You’ll be protected,” she continued. “Fed. Educated. Untouchable under my name.”
“And if I refuse?”
Akane stood.
Up close, she was even more imposing. Not tall—but solid in authority, like the room bent around her will.
“Then your parents’ debt remains unpaid,” she said softly. “And I stop being patient.”
Gage closed his eyes.
He thought of empty cupboards. Of bruises hidden under long sleeves. Of money stitched into jackets because trust was a liability.
He thought of surviving.
When he opened his eyes, Akane was still watching him. Waiting.
“…If I say yes,” he asked quietly, “do I belong to you?”
Akane was silent for a moment.
“No,” she said finally. “You belong to yourself.”
Her red eyes held his.
“But the world will think you belong to me.”
Gage exhaled slowly.
Then he nodded.
“Fine,” he said. “I’ll marry you.”
Akane extended her hand.
“Welcome to the Crimson Dragon,” she said.
As Gage took it, he knew one thing for certain:
This wasn’t the end of his life.
It was the beginning of something far more dangerous.
