Shattered
As Mr Carlos left the meeting point, he was met by two men who took him hostage, I stood with my feet slightly apart, my posture perfect, poised, and unyielding. The soft hum of the container's steel walls echoed around us, a constant reminder of the darkness it had witnessed over the years. The dim lighting cast long shadows, and the scent of oil and metal clung to the air. My men worked swiftly, their movements practiced as they bundled the private investigator into the cold, unforgiving space.
The burly man was a challenge, a fight in his eyes, but he was nothing compared to the men who held him—two giants of muscle, each one stronger than he could ever hope to be. They dragged him into the container, each step reverberating with his unwillingness to comply. His body twisted and jerked in an attempt to break free, but it was futile. He was outmatched. They pushed him down into the chair, securing him with rough, efficient movements, tying his arms and legs until he was completely immobilized, unable to move.
I took my time stepping closer, my heels clicking sharply against the cold floor, the sound echoing through the small, confined space. The man, still panting with the effort of his struggle, stared at me, his eyes flashing with defiance—until he saw the look on my face. I didn't need to speak for him to know who I was. But I wasn't here for pleasantries. I didn't need him to know me personally; I needed him to fear me.
I moved forward, slowly and deliberately, until I was standing directly in front of him. The tension in the air thickened, and I smiled—not out of humor, but out of control. I was in command here, and he knew it. His bravado faltered, just a flicker, but it was enough.
"I'm sure you don't know me," I said, my voice smooth and even, "but I know you."
The man's eyes narrowed, and I saw his mind working, trying to piece together who I was, what I wanted. His lips parted slightly, but no words came. And that's when I gave the signal.
Without a word, I nodded to one of my men, who stepped forward and held up a single, framed picture. The image was clear: a woman, his wife, standing with two young boys, smiling, innocent. The picture hung in front of him, and I watched the subtle shift in his expression. The defiance that had once been in his eyes vanished, replaced by a trace of fear. His throat tightened, and I could see him swallow hard.
"Do you recognize them?" I asked softly, tilting my head, watching his every reaction. "This is your family, isn't it?"
He didn't speak. His silence spoke louder than any words could. I leaned in, the scent of his fear sharp in the air between us, and lowered my voice.
"What I want from you is simple," I continued, stepping even closer, my heels clicking one last time before I was inches from his face. "If you keep digging into my affairs, if you keep trying to find things you should never know, then everything you love… everything you cherish… will be gone."
His body trembled, just slightly, but enough for me to see. I stepped back, allowing the picture to hang in front of him a moment longer, savoring the moment of his realization. The soft scrape of my fingernails against the cool surface of my skirt was the only sound now, punctuating the growing silence between us.
"But if you cooperate," I said, the smile on my lips never fading, "you'll find that things are much easier for you. My people will give you all the information you need to feed Ethan lies, make him think he's getting closer, when in reality, he'll be trapped. He'll be stuck in this endless cycle, chasing a ghost."
I leaned in again, my face inches from his, my voice lowering to a chilling whisper. "One mistake, just one slip-up, and you'll watch me take your wife's head off her shoulders. I'll do it in front of you. And then you'll know just how real this is."
His body stiffened, and I could feel the cold sweat breaking out on his brow, even in the dim light of the container. His lips parted, but nothing came out. There was nothing left to say. He knew the weight of the situation now. He knew I wasn't bluffing. And he had no choice but to comply.
He nodded, once, slowly, his acceptance clear. There was no other way for him. His will had been broken, his spirit crushed under the weight of my threat. I took a step back, signaling to my men to untie him. They did, and he was free—free to go back to his life, but it would never be the same. He would walk away a broken man, knowing what I was capable of.
"Good," I said, the smile returning to my face as I turned away. I'll be watching. Remember, one mistake, and everything you hold dear will be gone."
The men released him, and the door to the container swung open. The investigator stumbled out, his eyes hollow with fear, but he didn't dare speak or make a sound. He knew his place now. As I watched him leave, I couldn't help but wonder just how long it would take for him to understand the full extent of the consequences if he failed me.
Once the door slammed shut behind him, I allowed myself a quiet breath.
Everything was in motion. Ethan would keep searching for answers, but he wouldn't find them—not the real ones. And soon, he would understand there was no need for all the investigations.