Chapter 2 #2
Panic bloomed. Her body betrayed her, eyelids fluttering against her will.
Then—the wheel jerked. Metal screamed. And darkness swallowed Erica whole. The world vanished as the car slammed into the guardrail.
Pain awoke as it rolled through her body in waves when she finally managed to reopen her eyes.
The shock of the impact sent her stomach into spasms, and vomit spewed violently onto the windshield and airbag in front of her.
Struggling to breathe, she wiped her mouth and pushed loose hair strands from her face.
She tried to sit upright but found herself pinned between the airbag and the seat. Tears streamed down her face as she attempted to scream for help, but her effort was cut short by her rasping breaths.
"Breathe in—one, two, three—and out," she whispered, trying to calm herself.
Reaching back with her left hand, she fumbled to release her seatbelt, which was crushing her ribcage with every movement.
Her right arm struck the gear shift, and she screamed in agony.
Glancing down, she saw the bone protruding in jagged pieces.
It was useless to her now—no help in freeing herself.
Through the spider-webbed windshield, she caught sight of the car's smashed front end.
Smoke drifted from under the hood in slow, thick plumes.
Oh no, my baby, she's ruined. What if this damn thing catches on fire? I need to get out!
Her head fell back onto the airbag as she tried to come up with a plan. Intermittent thoughts disrupted her focus, and darkness loomed on the edge of her mind.
"No, please, somebody help me," she said, her voice a low murmur barely audible as her heavy eyelids fluttered closed.
The scraping sound of her car door hinges jolted her awake. Slowly, she angled her head high enough to see out the door. A man's face came into view, his dark eyes studying her as he forced the door open wide enough with a tire iron to fit his head inside the frame.
A soft sigh slipped from her bloodied lips at the thought of being rescued.
Finally, someone is here to get me out.
The man spoke, but she fought to stay coherent enough to understand.
His full lips moved, but his words were incomprehensible at first. "Are you alright?
Can you hear me? Do you understand what I'm saying?
" His voice echoed in her ears, each syllable reverberating with deep bass until the words finally became clear.
She slipped back into unconsciousness, and her head bounced slightly against the airbag.
She awoke with a start as the man began pulling her from the car.
Her arms and legs flailed against him as her body landed on his shoulder.
Each breath felt like a desperate gasp of air, her lungs fighting to receive it.
Whimpering, she adjusted her weight to relieve the pain shooting across her body.
"Wait, what are you doing? Could you put me down? Call an ambulance—you can't move me. I'm hurt!" Her voice trembled with desperation.
"Be still, or I will drop you, and we won't get to have any fun," he growled, his deep voice reverberating through his chest and into hers.
His hard body offered no cushion as Erica lay limply against him.
She'd begun to slide from his grip, prompting him to clamp down harder across her back with one arm while securing the other under her legs.
"Please stop—you're hurting me. Let me down and call for help or my mother. My phone should be in my purse," she begged, her voice trembling.
Her pleas went unanswered at first. The tears and snot dripping down her face felt as if they might drown her from the position of her head.
"Shut up and do what you're told. Stop struggling, and everything will go smoothly bitch!"
Hearing the hatred dripping from the word" bitch" she knew something was very wrong. Genuine fear began to rip through her.
Just who is this man, and where the fuck is he planning on taking me?
The man continued in the direction of his parked car with her slung over his shoulder like a rag doll.
As they neared it, her instinct to fight or flee surged to life.
She rocked her body back and forth against him, using every ounce of strength she could muster.
She needed to escape, to run away, but he was too strong—his grip unyielding.
Pain shot through every nerve ending in her body with each movement, but she pushed through it, determined to break free. She was nowhere near ready to give up.
Kicking her feet wildly, she finally connected—a solid blow to his groin.
A grunt of pain escaped him as he released her, and she dropped to the hard asphalt of the freeway.
The impact knocked the wind out of her, leaving her gasping.
Dazed, she lay still, stars dancing in her vision.
Fear rooted her to the spot; she was too stunned to move.
He was temporarily stunned by the blow and hunched over, growling in pain.
Now was the time to move.
Grunting, she braced herself with her left hand, struggling to push herself up. The weight of her body caused her long nails to bend backward; two snapped jaggedly. She clenched her jaw, fighting against the pain, pressing forward with every ounce of strength she could muster.
Slowly, she stood—still unsteady, legs trembling beneath her.
He stood behind her, wrapped in shadow. Tall enough that his silhouette swallowed hers when she glanced forward again.
The overhead lights flickered, causing brief stabs of illumination that carved his face into fragments.
A cheekbone here. A glint of a well-groomed jaw.
But never the whole picture. He wore a tailored suit, the kind that whispered money and control.
Everything about him was polished, except the smile.
That smile was wrong. Too wide. Too knowing. It curled across the man's face like something borrowed from a predator. She didn't need the full view to understand. He wasn't just dangerous.
He was a psychopath dressed for dinner.
Drawing a deep breath, she steadied herself before taking her first wobbly step forward. The man quickly grabbed her, pulling her closer with force before pushing her down onto the hard ground. The impact sent shockwaves through her body, leaving her breathless and disoriented.
"Where do you think you're going, princess?
We have only begun to play." His hot breath scorched her neck as he spoke, the words a low, menacing hiss as he forced her head downward with unrelenting pressure.
The putrid stench of dirt and gasoline assaulted her senses, making her gag as her nose collided with the unforgiving surface beneath it.
The sharp crack of the bone in her nose breaking reverberated through her skull, followed by the sharp snap of her two front teeth breaking.
The sound of the breaking bone shattered any lingering hope she had of survival, the pain anchoring her in the grim reality she could no longer escape.
She was going to die today.
Her body was now slick with the sticky blood that gushed from her face as it pooled beneath her on the cold, unforgiving ground.
Please, God, please help me.
"Why are you doing this? I haven't done anything to you."
Before she could get her bearings, her body was rolled over. The dark-haired man loomed above her, his face shadowed ominously by the streetlights overhead. The interplay of light above and darkness surrounding them distorted his features, giving him an unsettling, almost monstrous appearance.
"You're facing the consequences of what your father did to me. He took me away from a life I deserved. Now I will do the same for you."
Stunned but desperate, she cried out to him, her voice trembling with a faint plea.
"Please—. I don't know what you're talking about."
He silenced her sharply. "Quiet now, let's get you in the car."
He hoisted her limp body effortlessly, and for a fleeting moment, hope sparked in her mind—maybe he would place her in her car and leave.
The thought was interrupted as headlights from a speeding vehicle on the opposite side of the freeway briefly illuminated them, casting a harsh light on them before vanishing into the night.
"Shit… we are going to have to end our playtime sooner than I expected. And I had so many plans for you, princess. Too bad, really, we could have created such beautiful art together."
He squatted down on top of her and sat on her legs, pinning them in place. The weight crushed her to the ground. Blackness ebbed at the edge of her vision as he raised his gloved hands above his head and began stabbing her repeatedly in the chest with the same tire iron he'd used to open her door.
Her chest heaved as she gargled, her airway filling with blood. The man's stabs moved lower to her pelvic area, ripping through her with precision and force, taking away her will to fight.
Her consciousness began to drift in a haze of confusion, becoming a tenuous thread tethering her to the world around her. One she tried desperately to grasp.
Am I still alive?
The thought echoed faintly in the corners of her mind; it was a question she could no longer answer. As weightlessness enveloped her, the feeling of sinking into the depths of an endless ocean, where sensation and awareness were indistinguishable, consumed her consciousness.
A flicker of memory stirred within her—a gentle hand smoothing her hair, the soft murmur of her mother's voice reassured her in the dark. Yet even that seemed distant, as if it belonged to someone else entirely.
Mama, I love you.
Her eyes fluttered closed. Time seemed to stretch and contract in a nonsensical rhythm.
Her breath, or what she believed might be her breath, filled that void.
She searched for the pain, for proof of her body's defiance to give up, but there was nothing.
No sharpness, no ache—only a profound emptiness within her that mirrored the depths of her mind's wandering.
She wondered if she was in oblivion or a fragile moment between life and whatever lay beyond? She no longer knew.
The light in her eyes faded in a quiet surrender, leaving her body a shell of its former self.
The Collector's fury pulsed through him, hot and relentless. Her death came too soon. It was too clean. His fists were clenched, knuckles white with frustration. Emotions churned inside him—a hurricane barely held at bay.
As he stared at her broken body, conflict etched deep into his features. Time, like death, pressed forward—merciless, unyielding.
There'd be no keepsake tonight.
He exhaled sharply, the weight of what he couldn't take settling like stone in his chest.
Death hung heavy in the air, mocking him with its cruel timing. He'd wanted so much more. To feel like her father had paid. To create art with her. But now the canvas was gone. And all that remained was the echo of what could've been.
With one last glance, he turned away from the broken girl who symbolized the end of another chapter of his life. Already, his mind pulled at new threads in the tapestry of destruction he had long ago begun to weave.
New victims, new trophies. The hunger never faded. It only slept.
Death might have stolen this moment, but the war he waged with it was far from over. There were scores to settle. Souls to break. More skins to take before he became the man he was born to be.
The Capo of the Kings.
Every last person who made him into the monster he was now would pay.