Chapter Five: The Deal
Isa had curled up at the foot of the bed, head pressed between her knees. The room was quiet. Her throat still burned from crying. Her mind was a knot of old dreams and a new kind of fear.
She didn't know how long she sat like that. Minutes, hours, time meant nothing. All she knew was the weight of the threat, the image of blood in the alley, and the cold idea that she was now in someone else's world.
A soft click. The door opened.
He walked in like a shadow. He didn't hurry. He didn't look surprised to find her still awake. He stopped by the bed and watched her for a long time. He just stood there and looked, and for five minutes his eyes did not leave her.
Isa kept her head down. Her fingers dug into the blanket. She didn't move. She pretended not to breathe too loud.
Finally he spoke. His voice was low, controlled. "I have a deal."
She swallowed. Her heart forgot how to beat. "A deal?" she whispered.
He nodded once. "You do your end. You keep your life. If you fail, you know what happens next."
The words landed like a closing door. She felt every inch of the room tilt.
"Anything," she said before she could stop herself. "I'll do anything. I'll..." Her voice broke.
He cut her off. "Not anything," he said. "Something specific."
Isa lifted her head and looked at him. He was calm. He might have been bored. He might have been cruel. It was impossible to tell which.
"You will go to the club tonight," he said. "and you'll pretend to be a waitress. serve a drink to a man. and make sure he drinks it."
She blinked. The words didn't click at first. "Wait...what? Me? A... waitress?" Her mind stuttered. This was not the office. This was not folding files. This was something else, she has never done a waitress job before.
"Yes." He stepped closer. "You will be small. Quiet. Nobody will notice you. You will mix like you belong. You will hand him a drink. You will smile. Do your job. No more, no less."
Isa's stomach turned. "Who am I giving the drink to?" she asked, voice trembling.
He looked at her like she'd asked a foolish question. "He will be pointed out to you. You will not ask. You will not hesitate."
Her throat closed. "And... what am I putting in the drink?" Her voice was small now but urgent. "Is it poison? Medicine? What..
what am I supposed to do?"
He didn't answer right away. He watched her like she was a small animal trying to learn a new trick.
"You will not need to know the details," he said finally. "You will follow orders. You will not ask questions. You will not speak about this to anyone. You will do it cleanly. If you are useful, you will live."
She tried to force a laugh that came out as a sob. "How do I know you'll keep your word? How do I know I won't die after I do it anyway?"
He shrugged, as if the question was childish. "You don't. You have no choice."
Isa's mind screamed. She thought of Anastasia, of the small house by the sea she had once wanted. She thought of Clara, of lazy office tea breaks, of her plain blouses. None of it mattered now. The man in front of her had reduced everything to one sentence: do this, or die.
"What if I refuse?" she whispered.
He leaned down, his face close enough that she could make out the curve of his cheekbone. "If you refuse," he said simply, "I end you now. I throw you into the water. That is mercy compared to the other ways my men know."
She felt her knees go weak. She wanted to scream. She wanted to beg. Instead she nodded, slow and stiff.
"Fine," she said. "I'll do it. I'll go tonight. But, please...please tell me one thing. If I do this, will I at least be able to see my cat again, Can I atleast know that someone will… that someone will know I'm alive?"
He straightened and gave a short, almost invisible exhale. "You will be alive for now. You will see nothing else until I say so."
The answer was worse than silence.
He straightened and walked toward the table. He picked up a small black card and flipped it in his hand. He dropped it into the bed beside her. The card felt sharp and ordinary in her palm.
"Tonight," he said. "Wear something dark. Be ready. A man will show you what to do. You make no mistakes."
Isa looked at the card. Her hands trembled so badly the letters blurred.
"What if I can't do it?" she asked, failing to be brave.
He paused, then said, flat: "Then I will not keep you."
She pressed the card to her chest like a small thing might anchor her. Her whole body shuddered.
He watched her for a moment more. Then, as if he had finished some small business, he moved to the other side of the bed. He sat, pulled the blanket over his legs, and turned away without another word.
Isa stared at him. Her throat felt raw. She thought of running, but her legs wouldn't work. She thought of screaming, but the thought of the alley and the gun stopped the sound.
Slowly, with hands that felt too big and clumsy for her body, she stood and moved to the far edge of the bed. She lay down at the very end, curling into a small ball. He didn't look at her. He didn't speak.
They slept the same way they had last night , his back turned toward her, her head at the foot of the bed, neither of them moving, no words exchanged.
Outside, the world kept moving. Inside, a new contract lived in her palm and a new kind of fear sat heavy in her bones. She kept the card pressed to her heart until sleep took her, and the last thing she thought before dark was the same quiet promise she had made already: Play it by ear. Survive.