Chapter 8: No Way Out

“Shit, how did we end up in Silver Hollow?”

“Don’t panic—it’s chaotic here, but you can make money.”

“I’m more worried about living long enough to spend it.”

“I’m here, aren’t I? Relax.”

I didn’t believe a word—I just wanted to leave. My nerves were shot, and my instincts screamed at me to run.

“Kev, no, I’m really scared. Take me back.”

“Don’t rush. Since you’re here, at least check out my company, have a meal, then I’ll send you back, alright?”

He put it that way—I couldn’t refuse. Actually, I didn’t dare refuse. The threat was unspoken, but real.

At that point, I wasn’t sure Kev was involved in scams, but I could tell he wasn’t a good guy. His body language was tense, his smile too tight.

I was in his car, guards behind us—if I really pissed him off, I’d be in trouble. The fear was suffocating.

Let me explain something:

Except for those who know they’re coming to do scams, they won’t tell you directly before you enter the park. Even after you’re inside, they won’t say it outright.

Only when you get to your post and the scam scripts are handed to you do you realize your “high-paying job” is a scam.

On Silver Hollow’s streets, there are checkpoints every few steps. The guards stand tall, rifles slung over their shoulders, their eyes scanning every car.

Regular cars have to roll down all the windows—sometimes people have to get out. The process is slow, and the air is tense.

After checking, if nothing’s wrong, you can go.

Our car only rolled down the driver’s window—the guards glanced at Kev, then the license plate, and waved us through. Their faces were blank, unreadable.

Another person got in—a very pretty woman.

“Let me introduce my wife, Isabella.”

“This is my high school classmate, Eric, here for a visit.”

Isabella smiled and greeted me. Her accent wasn’t standard—couldn’t place it, probably American.

She wore a sundress and sunglasses, her smile warm but her eyes a little wary. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her movements graceful but guarded. I wondered how much she knew about Kev’s business.

After picking up Isabella, we kept driving. The car filled with the scent of her perfume and the tension between us.

Finally, we stopped at the park entrance.

There was a guard booth with four armed guards inside, all holding rifles. Their uniforms were faded, boots scuffed.

“We’re here, get out.”

Once I stepped out, a tall guard grabbed my arm and dragged me into the booth. His grip was rough, and I stumbled.

I was terrified. My heart raced, and sweat beaded on my forehead.

“Kev, what’s happening?”

“Don’t worry, company management is strict—just doing registration.”

I followed the guard, got my photo taken, signed in. The camera flashed so bright it left spots in my vision. The guard’s hands were rough, and the clipboard felt heavy in my grasp.

As I left the booth—maybe it was fate—the scorching sun flashed in my eyes, everything went black, and I nearly passed out. My world spun out, and I had to grab the doorframe to steady myself.

Isabella quickly came over to steady me. Her hand was cool, and she whispered, “You’re okay. Just breathe.”

I looked back at Kev, just in time to see the park gate slowly closing. The clang of metal echoed in my ears.

I never left through that gate again.

It felt like a final sentence, the world outside fading behind iron and concrete.