“They said if we don’t get the money by tonight, they are going to…”

Her voice dissolved into hysterical crying.

“They know you are a pilot.”

“They know you have the money.”

“Please, Mark, I’m begging you.”

The line went dead.

I stood in the center of my bedroom, holding my bag.

The weight of their choices was pressing down on my walls.

My phone screen lit up one more time.

An incoming call from an unknown number.

The area code was local.

I stared at the flashing screen, my finger hovering over the red button.

The phone kept ringing, vibrating against my palm.

I slid my thumb across the glass to answer.

“Mark Collins,” I said.

There was a long pause on the other end, just the sound of heavy breathing and wind.

Then, a man’s voice spoke.

“Captain Collins,” the voice said, low and gravelly.

“We need to have a conversation about your family’s debts.”

“I don’t have any debts,” I said.

“Your sister says otherwise,” the man replied.

“And we are standing right outside your door.”

A heavy knock sounded on my apartment door.