“What do you think you’re doing?” I shouted.


    The men turned to look at me, their eyes scanning me from head to toe. One of them, his gaze


    practically dripping with greed. “Well, well. Since when does Lindale get girls this pretty?”


    Another one chimed in, “What’s it to you, sweetheart? You looking to rent a ce? Or are you


    friends with thedy in here?”


    “Seems to me I was the one asking the questions,” I said, my tone icy.


    The man pounding on the door swaggered over, his expression oozing sleaze and menace. “We’re


    just here looking for pretty girls. And look at that—we found one.”


    As he spoke, he reached out a finger toward my chin.


    I dodged his touch. He let out an amused “Huh.”


    He said, “Oh, feisty. I like that. Feisty girls are more fun.”


    He signaled hispanions with a quick look. “Looks like this trip wasn’t wasted after all,” he said


    smugly.


    Before I could react, they started closing in. I stepped back, dodging hands as they reached for me.


    The situation was spiraling fast when a voice broke through the chaos.


    “Stop! Let her go!”


    Demi.


    I whipped around just in time to see her charging toward us. She swung a stick without hesitation,


    landing a solid hit on one man’s arm.


    “You bitch!” one of the men snarled. “We’ve been looking for you, and here you are, walking straight


    into us!”


    All their attention shifted to her now.


    There was no way I was letting them hurt Demi. Spotting a loose brick on the ground, I grabbed it


    and hurled it at one of the men.


    It hit him square in the shoulder, and he stumbled back with a yelp before spinning toward me.


    I didn’t move, didn’t flinch. Ever since Hayden was gone, it was like something had ignited inside me


    —a stubborn, unrelenting fire that refused to let me back down.


    As he charged at me, I drove my leg into his gut. The kicknded hard, knocking the air out of him.


    He doubled over, clutching his stomach and stumbling, groaning in pain.


    But there were still two others, and they’d managed to grab Demi. One of them was reaching for her


    hair when I shouted, “If you want your money, don’t touch her!”


    That stopped them. Both men froze, their heads snapping toward me.


    Striding forward, I shoved one of them back and pulled Demi behind me. Fixing them with an icy


    re, I asked, ‘ Where’s the proof?”


    “Proof?” They repeated, thrown off.


    “The IOU. If you’re here for money, you’d better have something to back it up.”


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    The men exchanged wary nces before one of them hurried over to the guy I’d kicked, rifling


    through his pocket. After a moment, he pulled out a crumpled piece of paper and unfolded it.


    It was an IOU, handwritten and signed by Demi. The amount: $250,000. I recognized her


    handwriting instantly.


    Behind me, Demi said nothing, her silence speaking volumes–it was real.


    “This $250,000 is the principal,” one of the men sneered. “With interest, it’s $415,000 now.”


    Of course. Loan sharks–leeching off and squeezing people until there was nothing left.


    I scanned the date on the IOU. Six months. In six months, the interest had ballooned to more than


    half the original loan.


    “Your interest rate is ridiculous,” I said tly.


    I had the money to pay, sure, but there was no way I’d feed into their greed. Giving in would only


    make them bolder, preying on more desperate people.


    “The interest is all there, written clearly. She signed it and even pressed her thumbprint. Not a single


    cent less,” one of them snapped, his tone defiant.


    “That interest is illegal. I won’t ept it. I’ll give you $25,000 as interest. Push for more, and I’ll call


    the cops to sort this out.” I held up my phone.


    One of the men lunged at me, swiping for the phone, but I sidestepped easily. “If you want your


    money, don’t try me.”


    That seemed to rattle them. They exchanged nces.


    After a tense pause, one of them finally spoke. “Principal plus interest–total is $350,000. No less.”


    I kept my expression stone–cold, thumb hovering over the call button.


    “Okay, okay! Total is $325,000!” one of them barked.


    I didn’t even blink.


    “Fine!” another snapped, throwing up his hands in frustration. “$300,000, but that’s as low as we’ll


    go! And you pay right now!”


    It was still more than they deserved, but at least it was a step down from their outrageous demands.


    I decided not to push further.


    “Give me the ount details,” I said curtly.