Chapter 3
Mark lowered his hands, shaking his head as a bitter laugh escaped his lips. "You look ridiculous in those," he said, though the mockery lacked its usual sharp edge. He glanced over at Lily, a fleeting shadow of guilt crossing his features before he aggressively masked it behind a wall of stoicism. "Take them off, Claire. This is stupid."
"You brought them out here," Claire said, keeping her guard up, refusing to lower her hands just because he had paused. Her muscles were already burning from the unaccustomed tension, her shoulders aching under the strain. "You wanted to send a message. Well, I received it. Now what?"
"The debt collector called again today," Mark confessed, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper as he looked down at the concrete. The bravado evaporated, replaced by the crushing weight of financial ruin that had driven him back into the underground circuit in the first place. "They aren't waiting until next month. If I don't take the Friday night bout at the warehouse district, they're going to repossess the car. And after that, they come for the house."
Claire lowered the heavy glove slightly, the anger in her chest curdling into a cold, heavy dread. "You said that debt was paid off, Mark. You swore to me six months ago that you were done taking fights for loan sharks."
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"People like that don't let you just walk away," Mark snapped, his muscular frame tensing again as if preparing to absorb a blow from an invisible enemy. "Every time you think you're out, they tack on fees, interest, penalties. The math is rigged from the start. I fight, or we lose everything."
Lily, sensing the shift in tone away from physical violence, wandered back toward them, her small hand reaching out to tug on Claire's dark blue cardigan. Claire knelt down, ignoring the dirt staining her jeans, and pulled the little girl into a tight, protective embrace. She looked past Lily's small shoulder at her husband. Mark stood under the amber glow of the porch light, looking remarkably small despite his size, a prisoner of his own reckless choices. The confrontation in the driveway had transformed from a domestic threat into a desperate war council, and Claire knew that surviving the next few days would require far more than physical defense.
