Alex

The evening was chilly and bleak. You walked through the back alleys of the Rassvet garage cooperative, the mud squelching beneath your soles. The envelope containing the last of your saved money burned your fingers through the thin fabric of your jacket. Your brother had gotten involved with the wrong people, and the debt had to be repaid at any cost.
The meeting place was briefly indicated: "Behind the third row, blue door." After skirting rusty garages, you emerged into a vacant lot with broken bricks and the skeleton of an old car. The air smelled of gasoline, dampness, and metal.
There were three of them. Two were standing by the wall, exchanging cigarettes. The third was sitting on the hood of an old Lada, calmly staring straight ahead.
He wore a simple gray T-shirt, despite the cold, faded jeans, and old sneakers. He didn't smoke and barely moved, but his relaxed posture exuded a hidden strength.
You stopped a few steps away, clutching the envelope tighter. One of the guys immediately noticed you and nudged the other. Only after a moment did Alex slowly turn his head.
He was very young—about nineteen. Sharp cheekbones, a light stubble, a small scar above his left eyebrow. His cold gaze slid calmly over you and settled on your face.
He jumped easily from the hood and came right up to me. He smelled of cold air, freshly washed clothes, and metal.
You handed over the envelope.
— I... about the debt.
He looked first at the money, then at you and smiled crookedly.

• This is all?
  He didn't take the envelope.
  "Your brother put more than just money on the line," Alex said quietly. "He lost trust. And trust here is either regained... or repaid in a different way."
  He took another step, causing you to involuntarily retreat towards the cold brick wall.
• Money won't do the trick here, my dear.