"'Earn it?'" Wesley repeated, voice full of disbelief as if I'd just asked him to do something depraved. His eyes narrowed, and I could practically hear the ridiculous assumptions running through his head.

I blinked at him, baffled. "What?"

"Earn it," he said again, slower this time, like he was testing the weight of the words. "What the hell does that even mean? I'm not—"

"Oh, for the love of—" I cut him off, shaking my head. "Not like that, Wesley. Get your mind out of the gutter."

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Then what do you mean? Because the way you said it—"

"I meant proving you're worth my investment," I repeated slowly as if I was talking to an idiot because it genuinely felt like I was. "I wouldn't touch you."

The color in his cheeks deepened, his embarrassment at jumping to the wrong conclusion evident. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, muttering, "Well, maybe you should phrase things differently."

"Maybe you should stop letting that mind of yours run wild."

His eyes shifted away from me. It wasn't like the thought was completely unwarranted, given my wording but I wasn't in the business of trading money to the desperate for sexual favors. I was confident in my ability to find willing partners on my own.

That being said, I couldn't say I wasn't somewhat attracted—or, at the very least, interested—in Wesley. There was something about him I couldn't put my finger on that made me curious about him. It wasn't the curiosity I was used to—the type that was wrapped around people with an aura of danger and unpredictability. Wesley was the opposite of that. He was cautious, unsure, and maybe even a little broken. But there was something about the way he held himself, the glimmer of stubbornness in his eyes despite his obvious fear, that made me want to push him. To see what was under all that hesitation and self-doubt.

But this wasn't about attraction or curiosity. This was business.

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose as I tried to steer the conversation back to where it needed to be. "Look, Wesley, this isn't complicated. You want Boreal off your back, you want your debt to disappear, and I want information. You help me, and I'll help you. Simple as that."

"'Information?'" He repeated with a frown, mulling the words over in his mind and I waited impatiently for the realization to dawn on him. "You don't mean—"

"Boreal," I confirmed.

"You're crazy," Wesley accused.

"I have been told that, yes," I replied dismissively. "It's not like I'm asking much of you, though."

"You're asking me to risk my life—"

"I'm offering you an opportunity to earn some extra cash and get out of the poor house faster," I corrected. "You don't even have to do much. I just want you to...push Boreal's buttons a bit and tell me what he lets slip."

"What if I push too far and he puts a bullet in my head instead?"

I couldn't help but groan loudly. "Everything is a fight with you. Don't be so dramatic, Boreal isn't going to kill you. You still owe Lionel money and if he were to end your life over something like a little back talk then he'd have to cover your debt."

"Still..."

I could feel my frustration mounting. It was official: Wesley was the most contradicting person I knew. One minute, he had no problem telling me off and the next, he was about to piss himself over a hypothetical scenario that wouldn't even happen.

"Still, what?" I snapped, crossing my arms as I glared down at him. "You're not dealing with some master criminal, Wesley. Boreal isn't smart enough to make a move without Lionel's explicit approval. All he's good for is following orders and barking louder than he bites. Do you know how many people have pushed his buttons and lived to tell the tale? All of them."

Wesley shifted. "But—"

"Is Boreal scarier than me?"

The question made him pause. "Huh?"

"Is Boreal scarier than me," I repeated. "Because I'm hearing a lot of excuses," I continued, my voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "And frankly, I'm starting to wonder if you've forgotten who you're talking to."

Wesley's brow furrowed, but he didn't speak. The hesitation, the twitch of his fingers against his knee, said enough.

"Let me help you out," I said, leaning forward. "Boreal is a nobody. A small-time thug who does as he's told and doesn't ask questions. Do you know what happens to people like that in this business? They stay at the bottom, forgotten until someone stronger decides they're no longer useful. He might bark, he might growl, but at the end of the day, he's just a dog. And dogs? They don't scare me."

Wesley's lips parted as if to argue, but I held up a hand, silencing him.

"Now, me?" I gestured at myself, my voice calm but firm. "I'm not some disposable errand boy. I don't follow orders, I give them. I've carved out my place in this world with more than just my fists or empty threats. If you think Boreal is dangerous, then maybe you need to reassess your priorities."

His mouth snapped shut, and his gaze dropped to the table. He looked conflicted, torn between his fear of Boreal and whatever it was he thought I might do if he refused.

"Let me make this simple for you," I said, standing up and towering over him. "You can keep hiding from Boreal, let him walk all over you, and live the rest of your life being terrified of men like him. Or you can start standing up for yourself. Right now, I'm offering you a way to do that. A chance to prove you're more than the scared little man he thinks you are."

Wesley didn't look up. "And if I say no?"

I tilted my head, my tone was soft but pointed. "You won't."

His cowardice was infuriating and made me want to bang my head against a wall, but he had potential. I could use him to get an idea of what was happening in my absence, but to do that, I needed to make sure he was loyal to me. The hold Lionel had on him was created purely out of fear, so maybe I could carve that fear into something beneficial for me.

I crouched down to his level, forcing him to meet my eyes. "Listen to me, Wesley," I said, my voice low but deliberate. "I don't care about Boreal, and I definitely don't care about whatever little power he thinks he has over you. What I care about is making sure my interests are protected. And right now, you're a part of those interests."

He eyes me, confusion flashing across his face. "Your interests?"

"That's right." I leaned in closer. "You're scared of Boreal because he's got Lionel backing him, but here's the thing: I'm not Lionel, and I don't play by his rules. If you're going to be afraid of anyone, Wesley, it should be me. Not because I want to hurt you, but because I can."

I let the words hang in the air, the weight of them sinking in. Wesley swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing, but he didn't look away.

"Fear isn't enough to keep someone like Boreal in check," I continued. "He's a pawn, Wesley. He does what he's told because he doesn't have the spine to think for himself. And do you know what happens to pawns in this game?" I smiled coldly. "They get sacrificed."

Wesley flinched but held my gaze and frowned. "We're past just needing a place to stay, aren't we?"

A hint of amusement filled me at the question. "Tell me like you mean it that you don't want this and I'll drop it, put my money away, and do exactly what I told you: leave after a few days and pay back whatever you owe Lionel. But you should know better than anyone that simply paying back your debt isn't going to get Boreal off your ass." He cringed at the statement. "Or you can help me out and I'll take care of your money problem and your Boreal problem for good."

There was a pause and he ran his hands over his face, allowing his exhaustion to show.

"What happened to not asking me to get involved?" He grumbled, throwing my words back at me quietly.

"Is that a no?" I pushed.

He sighed and turned his head away from me, but I could tell the gears were turning in his head.

"You're asking me to stick my neck out when I barely know anything about you or why you're even here," Wesley finished. "I mean, why should I trust you? You're asking me to stick my neck out for your 'interests,' but I don't even know what they are."

I tilted my head to the side and straightened. It was a fair statement, but that didn't mean I wanted to answer it. I wouldn't put it past him to run the second he learned my real target was Lionel.

"Most people in your situation would just take the deal and move on with their lives afterward, you know," I pointed out.

He crossed his arms. "People like that end up dead because of their ignorance and their willingness to trust anyone who offers a way out," Wesley finished, his tone laced with cynicism.

Perhaps, I should have chosen a different house to break into.

"And those who don't accept a little saving grace end up with a bullet in between their eyes, so which one are you going to be, Wesley?" I held his gaze. "Time's running out and I'm getting impatient. Are you going to keep obsessing over a hypothetical death or are you going to take control of your own life for once?" I leaned in, my voice a little sharper. "Choose."