“Then you earn your freedom,” Roman said.

He pulled a sleek silver pen from his pocket and wrote three lines on a blank page of his notebook.

He tore the page out and slid it across the damp wooden table toward me.

It listed the total debt, a weekly wage to be deducted, and three blank lines.

Roman signed his name first.

Declan stepped up, pulled a pen from his vest, and scrawled his name with a heavy, careless hand.

Victor walked over, took the pen, and added his elegant signature.

“Your new life starts tonight,” Victor said.

I picked up the paper.

The ink was still wet.

I folded it carefully and tucked it into my apron pocket.

Outside, a heavy black sedan idled in the alley, its headlights cutting through the fog.

Declan opened the back door of the shop.

“Time to go, flower girl,” Declan said.

I walked out into the cold rain without a coat.

As I reached the car, my phone buzzed in my pocket.

I pulled it out.

A text message from an unknown number appeared on the screen.