The Price
Hela woke to sunlight streaming through the curtains and Rider's arm draped across her waist.
She smiled.
He came back.
Not to Leena. Not to some other woman. To her.
She shifted slightly, feeling the pleasant ache between her legs, the soreness in her hips. They'd fucked three times last night. Hard. Desperate. Like he was trying to prove something.
And maybe he was.
He chose me.
Rider stirred beside her, his hand sliding up to cup her breast. His thumb brushed her nipple lazily.
"Morning," he murmured against her neck.
"Morning." Hela turned in his arms, pressing herself against him. "Last night was—"
"Incredible." His lips found hers. Slow. Deep. "You're incredible."
She felt a surge of satisfaction. Pride.
This is what winning feels like.
"I knew you'd come back," she said softly. "I knew Leena couldn't give you what I can."
Rider's smile was slow. Predatory. "No. She can't."
His hand slid down her stomach, between her legs. Hela gasped as his fingers found her clit, circling slowly.
"Still sore?" he asked.
"A little."
"Good." He kissed her again, harder this time. "I want you to feel me all day."
Hela's phone buzzed on the nightstand.
She ignored it.
Rider's fingers moved faster, and she arched against him, her breath catching.
The phone buzzed again.
"Ignore it," Rider said.
"I am."
But it kept buzzing. Insistent. Urgent.
Hela pulled away slightly and glanced at the screen.
Cousin.
Her stomach tightened.
He never called unless it was important. Never.
"I need to take this," she said.
Rider's hand stilled. "Now?"
"It's my cousin. He doesn't call unless—" She grabbed the phone and answered. "What's wrong?"
"Hela." His voice was tight. Panicked. "The cops arrested us. Me, Tommy, half the crew. They're trying to charge us with racketeering, extortion, assault—serious shit. They're talking about ten years minimum."
Hela's blood went cold.
No. No, no, no.
"What?" Her voice came out sharp. Too loud. "When?"
"Last night. They hit three of our spots at once. Had warrants. Had everything." He paused. "Hela, they knew exactly where to look. They knew about the protection rackets, the loan operations, the—"
"Stop." Hela's mind was racing. "Don't say anything else on this line."
"Hela, I need help. We all do. If these charges stick—"
"I'll handle it." Her voice was steady now. Controlled. "Don't talk to anyone. Don't make any deals. I'll fix this."
She hung up.
Her hands were shaking.
The cops knew. They knew everything.
She turned to look at Rider.
He was smiling.
Not surprised. Not concerned.
Smiling.
"Something wrong?" he asked.
Hela's chest tightened. Her pulse pounded in her ears.
No. He wouldn't.
"My cousin just got arrested," she said slowly. "Him and half his crew. The cops knew exactly where to hit them. Knew about operations we've kept quiet for years."
Rider sat up, leaning back against the headboard. His expression was calm. Almost amused.
"That's unfortunate," he said.
"Rider." Hela's voice was low. Dangerous. "Did you do this?"
"Do what?"
"Don't play games with me."
Rider's smile widened. "You should never have betrayed me, Hela."
The words hit her like a physical blow.
He did this. He fucking did this.
"You son of a bitch." Hela stood, her body trembling with rage. "You set them up. You tipped off the cops."
"I did what I had to do." Rider's tone was casual. Unbothered. "You tried to destroy me. You stole my files, threatened to expose me, turned my own investors against me." He tilted his head. "Did you really think there wouldn't be consequences?"
Hela's mind was spinning.
He planned this. All of it. Last night wasn't about reconciliation. It was about keeping me distracted.
"Let them go," she said. Her voice was shaking now. "Call whoever you need to call and let them go. Or I swear to God, Rider, I will release every file I have on you. Every transaction. Every dirty deal. Every—"
"What files?"
Hela froze.
Rider's smile was slow. Predatory.
"What files, Hela?"
Her stomach dropped.
No.
"The ones I took from your office," she said. But her voice was uncertain now. Weak.
"You mean the ones that were in your apartment?" Rider stood, crossing to where his clothes were draped over a chair. He pulled on his pants slowly, deliberately. "The ones in the safe behind your bedroom mirror? The external hard drives in your desk drawer? The printed documents in the filing cabinet?"
Hela couldn't breathe.
He knows. He knows where everything is.
"You didn't," she whispered.
"I did." Rider buttoned his shirt, his movements calm and precise. "Last night. While you were here with me. My people went through your apartment and took everything."
Hela's legs felt weak. She grabbed the edge of the bed to steady herself.
Everything. He took everything.
"You're bluffing," she said. But she didn't believe it.
Rider pulled out his phone and held it up. On the screen was a photo of her apartment—her living room, specifically. The safe was open. Empty. Papers were scattered across the floor.
"Not bluffing," he said.
Hela stared at the photo.
It's gone. All of it. Every piece of leverage I had.
"You bastard." Her voice cracked. "You fucking bastard."
"You tried to destroy me," Rider said simply. "So I destroyed you first." He slipped the phone back into his pocket. "Your cousin and his crew will go to prison. Your operation will collapse. And you?" He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to cup her cheek. "You have nothing left."
Hela jerked away from his touch.
I have to see it. I have to know for sure.
She grabbed her clothes from the floor and dressed quickly, her hands shaking so badly she could barely button her jeans.
"Where are you going?" Rider asked.
She didn't answer.
She ran.
Out of the bedroom. Down the stairs. Through the front door.
Her car was parked in the driveway. She fumbled with the keys, her vision blurring.
Please. Please let him be lying.
She drove too fast. Ran two red lights. Nearly sideswiped a parked car.
Her apartment was fifteen minutes away. She made it in eight.
She parked crookedly in front of the building and sprinted to the entrance. Her hands were shaking so badly it took three tries to unlock the door.
The elevator ride up felt like an eternity.
When the doors opened, she ran down the hallway to her apartment.
The door was unlocked.
No.
She pushed it open.
And stopped.
The apartment looked like a hurricane had torn through it.
The couch was overturned. The coffee table shattered. Books and papers were scattered everywhere. The TV was smashed. Picture frames lay broken on the floor.
Hela stepped inside, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps.
The safe behind the bedroom mirror was open. Empty.
The filing cabinet in her office had been pried open. Every drawer pulled out. Every file gone.
Her desk was destroyed. The external hard drives—gone. The laptop—gone. Even the backup USB drives she'd hidden in a hollowed-out book—gone.
He took everything.
Hela walked through the wreckage in a daze.
Every piece of leverage. Every document. Every photo. Every recording.
Gone.
She sank to her knees in the middle of the living room, surrounded by the ruins of her carefully constructed safety net.
I have nothing.
Her chest felt tight. Her throat closed up. She couldn't breathe.
He won. Rider won.
A sob tore out of her. Then another.
She collapsed onto the floor, her body shaking violently.
I'm finished. My cousin's going to prison. The gang's going to fall apart. And I have nothing to stop it.
She lay there for what felt like hours, her face pressed against the cold hardwood, her body wracked with sobs.
This is what losing feels like.
Eventually, the tears stopped.
Hela pushed herself up slowly, her body aching, her head pounding.
Think. You have to think.
Her cousin was in jail. The charges were serious. Racketeering. Extortion. Assault.
He needs a lawyer. A good one. Someone with connections.
But lawyers like that cost money. A lot of money. And even then, there was no guarantee.
Unless.
Hela's stomach turned.
No. Not him. Anyone but him.
But there was no one else.
No one with that kind of power. That kind of reach.
Her stepfather.
Senator Richard Calloway.
The man who'd raised her after her mother remarried. The man who'd smiled at family dinners and tucked her in at night.
The man who'd come into her room when she was fourteen and put his hand over her mouth.
"Don't scream. Don't make a sound. This is our secret."
Hela's hands were shaking again.
She hadn't spoken to him in years. Not since she'd moved out at eighteen and cut off all contact.
But he was a senator. He had connections. Judges. Prosecutors. Police chiefs.
He could make this go away.
Hela pulled out her phone.
Her hands were trembling so badly she almost dropped it.
You don't have to do this. There has to be another way.
But there wasn't.
Her cousin was going to prison. The gang was going to collapse. And she had nothing left to bargain with.
Except yourself.
Hela's stomach churned.
This is the price. This is what it costs.
She pulled up his contact. Stared at the name on the screen.
Richard Calloway.
Her finger hovered over the call button.
You can still walk away. You can let your cousin go to prison. You can start over somewhere else.
But she couldn't.
The gang was family. Her cousin had protected her, supported her, given her a place in the world when no one else would.
You owe him this.
Hela pressed the button.
The phone rang once. Twice.
Then his voice, smooth and warm and sickeningly familiar:
"Hela. What a pleasant surprise."
Her throat tightened.
Say it. Just say it.
"I need your help," she said. Her voice was flat. Empty.
"Of course, sweetheart. What's wrong?"
Don't call me that. Don't ever call me that.
"My cousin was arrested. Him and his crew. They're being charged with racketeering, extortion, assault. Serious charges."
There was a pause.
"I see." His tone shifted slightly. More calculating. "And you're calling me because...?"
"Because you're the only one who can help." Hela closed her eyes. "You have connections. Judges. Prosecutors. You can make this go away."
"I could," Richard said slowly. "But that's a big ask, Hela. Very big. It would require a lot of favors. A lot of political capital."
Here it comes.
"What do you want?" she asked.
Another pause. Longer this time.
Then his voice, low and pleased:
"You know what I want."
Hela's stomach turned.
Say it. Make him say it.
"I need to hear you say it," she said.
Richard laughed softly. "Always so direct. I've missed that about you." He paused. "I want you, Hela. The way I used to have you. The way you used to let me touch you."
I never let you. You took.
"If I agree," Hela said, her voice shaking now, "you'll keep my cousin out of jail? You'll make the charges disappear?"
"I will."
"All of them? Not just my cousin. His whole crew."
"Yes."
Hela opened her eyes. Stared at the wreckage of her apartment.
This is the price.
"Fine," she said. "I'll give you what you want."
Richard's breath hitched slightly. "When?"
"Soon. I'll let you know."
"Don't make me wait too long, sweetheart."
Stop calling me that.
"I won't."
She hung up before he could say anything else.
The phone slipped from her hand and clattered to the floor.
Hela sat there, staring at nothing.
You just sold yourself.
Not for money. Not for power.
For family.
This is what survival looks like.
She thought about Rider. About the smug smile on his face when he'd told her she had nothing left.
He's wrong.
She still had this. This one last card to play.
And when it's over, when my cousin is safe, I'll find a way to destroy him.
But first, she had to survive.
Hela stood slowly, her legs unsteady.
She walked to the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror.
Her eyes were red. Her face was pale. Her hair was a mess.
This is who you are now.
A woman with nothing left to lose.
A woman who'd just agreed to let her abuser touch her again.
For family. For survival.
Hela turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on her face.
You can do this. You've done it before.
She dried her face with a towel and walked back into the living room.
Her phone was still on the floor where she'd dropped it.
She picked it up and stared at the screen.
One call. That's all it took.
Hela slipped the phone into her pocket and walked to the door.
She didn't look back at the wreckage.