⚠️ Dark content ahead: violence, torture, coercion, and psychological abuse.
"Shit!"
"Damn!"
Zimr cursed each ti he bumped into soone.
The amber haze of cheap scotch had been a mistake. It didn’t numb the terror, it only sharpened it into a jagged, pulsing rhythm behind Zimr Hans’s eyes. As he stumbled out of the neon-lit pub into the biting January air, the world felt tilted.
He walked with his chin tucked into his collar, his breath coming in shallow, ragged hitches. He kept looking for the black cars, afraid they might find him. He felt like a mouse scurrying across an open field with a hawk circling overhead.
He knew he was a dead man walking the mont he had seen the look in Lucas’s eyes at the annex. He was sure Salazar had sent soone to kill him, or do sothing to him.
He was too scared. He tried to call Nael, but the boy’s cell phone was unreachable. Only that boy could save him.
He knew, everyone knew, how cruel Salazar was. He didn’t want to die. He had asked for help, anyone, but every security agent quickly refused his request when he ntioned Salazar’s na.
All he could do now was hide. His only hope was to grab his passport, docunts, the hidden stack of cash, and vanish from the city.
He had to hurry!
By the ti he reached the door of his apartnt complex, his shirt under his coat was plastered to his back with cold, sour sweat.
"Shit!" He failed to insert his keys, the tal clinking against the lock with a frantic, rhythmic sound. He then realized the door wasn’t locked.
What?
He stepped inside with trembling legs. He didn’t flip the light switch. He stood in the foyer, listening to the silence.
He flicked the switch, and imdiately his eyes widened at the state of his apartnt.
It was a ss!
The bookshelves were toppled, the floor a sea of shredded paper. His mattress was sliced open, the stuffing spilling out like white entrails. But the center of the room held the true horror. His desk had been pulled into the middle of the floor. His PC was open, its internal guts spilled out.
He was not only anxious about the state of his apartnt, but also afraid that his fears had co true.
Salazar was already here!
He no longer wanted his docunts or passport at this point. He just wanted to survive until morning and report to the police!
He had to run!
"Don’t rush, Mr. Hans."
A voice like grinding stones erged from one of the rooms. Zimr spun around, his knees buckling. A man, tall, heavy with muscle, wearing an expensive suit beneath a black coat, stood there.
Zimr stepped back, trembling.
But his step stopped short when two big n ca in from outside.
Zimr was cornered. He suddenly shivered. "Who are you?!"
Steven, who stood in the apartnt, walked to the ssy sofa, tidied up a corner, and sat down calmly. "You will not go anywhere. Go sit down."
Zimr was too scared, he knelt in the middle of the room. "Please spare . I didn’t do anything. I didn’t hurt Nael! I swear!"
Steven smiled. "Well, you are smart enough to know the reason why I’m here."
He flashed a USB drive in his hand. "But I have many interesting things here."
Zimr swallowed hard.
Steven looked around the apartnt. "This apartnt is big. Is this how you live? You should live better, though."
Zimr trembled. "Please, I will disappear from here. You don’t need to worry. I won’t see Nael again. I promise!"
Steven nodded. "That’s what I’m thinking. You should disappear. But I prefer to help you. Co here."
Zimr looked at Steven, shaking his head.
Steven signaled sothing to the two n behind Zimr. Quickly, they grabbed his arms and pushed him roughly onto the sofa in front of Steven.
Zimr scread in surprise, afraid he would be executed there. But they let him go. He looked at the three of them with a frightened face.
Steven handed him two pieces of paper. "Sign your resignation letter to X Starling. And a letter for your wife. Tell her that you found a better woman in another country and will live with her."
Zimr’s eyes widened. Aside from the letters, he was terrified by how they knew about his wife.
Steven grinned. "I know you don’t have parents anymore, such a pity. But you have a wife and a son. What will you do if I do the sa to your son as you did to your victims?"
Zimr was shocked. "No! Please... They have nothing to do with this. I beg you, don’t do anything to them!"
Steven tapped the letters in front of him. "Then sign these."
Through tears and frantic gasps for air, Zimr stared at the letters. The image of his young son filled his mind. It was enough to make him cry. He had tried to hide their identities so that if anything happened to him, they would be safe.
But he had just touched a devil’s son. He signed away his life with trembling hands.
"Good," Steven whispered. He pulled the letters away with gloved hands and put them in his briefcase.
Zimr was shaking. "Please don’t touch my family. I will disappear. I promise!"
Steven stood up. "Co with . Your son’s life is still in your hands."
Zimr was tossed into the back of a van. The drive was silent and terrifying.
When the doors finally opened, the air hit him like a physical blow. It was sub-zero, the kind of cold that crystallized the moisture in your nostrils.
They were at an old sumr camp sixty miles from civilization. In July, it was a place of laughter. But in winter, it was a graveyard of pine and ice.
Zimr was shaking and trembling from the cold. He collapsed onto the snow. He stared at several n around him, who seed to be chatting casually with rifles in their hands.
Steven motioned to two n from the van to bring Zimr to follow him. He stepped closer to the others, who bowed respectfully.
"Is he ready?" one of them asked.
"Soon, soon," Steven replied.
Zimr groaned as the two n shoved him again, causing him to fall into the snow. He looked up to find Steven standing beside him.
"Listen. You see them? They will shoot you if you annoy us. So we will make it fast and easy. Understand?"
Zimr didn’t understand. He was too scared.
"Take off your clothes," Steven gave the order.
Zimr was too shocked to respond. "What? No—"
Steven grinned. "We won’t rape you. Don’t worry. You’re really not my type."
Zimr remained frozen.
Impatient, Steven’s n stripped him.
"NO!! PLEASE DON’T!" Zimr scread and struggled.
They weren’t gentle. They tore the clothes from his shivering fra until he knelt naked in knee-deep snow, his skin turning a mottled, sickly blue.
Zimr hugged himself, shaking violently, staring at the grinning faces around him.
"We’re going to play a hunting ga. The rules are simple," Steven said, lighting a cigarette. "The lake is two miles east. The highway is five miles west across the forest. You have a three-minute head start. If you hit the asphalt, you live."
"Please!" Zimr shrieked. "I’ll die! It’s freezing!"
"Two minutes and forty seconds," Steven replied, preparing his hunting rifle.
"Shit!" Zimr turned and ran.
The snow was a nightmare. The frozen crust broke under his weight, jagged ice slicing into his bare feet. Every step was fresh agony. He ran into the treeline, branches whipping against his bare chest, leaving long red welts. Every breath felt like inhaling shattered glass.
At so point, Leo’s high-definition thermal caras humd. In a secure room miles away, Leo watched the bright white heat signature of the "prey" stumbling through the deep blue of the forest.
"He’s slowing down," Leo’s voice crackled through Steven’s earpiece. "He’s heading toward the ravine. Push him toward the old hut, Steven. The lighting is perfect there."
Steven and his n moved with the rhythmic, terrifying efficiency of wolves. They stayed fifty yards back, occasionally firing a silenced round into the trees near Zimr’s head to keep him moving toward the center of the trap.
Zimr reached the old hut, his body shaking so violently he could barely stand. He tried to hide beneath the porch, but a boot slamd into his ribs, throwing him back into the open. He fell to his knees, white plus of breath tearing from his lungs.
Steven stepped out of the shadows. He didn’t raise the rifle yet. He watched Zimr crawl, the predator’s eyes cold and unblinking.
"Nael was just a teenager," Steven said, his voice a low growl. "He looked up to you. And you saw a price tag." Steven rested the rifle against his chest.
"No! I’m sorry! I won’t do it again! I promise!"
"You liked to watch them, didn’t you?" Steven asked. "You liked to see them break. Let’s see how you look when the roles are reversed."
Steven grinned, releasing the man to run.
A shot rang out. "I got him!"
Zimr’s scream was high and thin, swallowed whole by the forest.
"That’s for the trust fund," Steven growled.
Another shot rang out, followed by another scream. "And that’s for the boys who didn’t have a Salazar to protect them."
In the distance, the red lights of the caras continued to blink, docunting every mont of the predator’s long, agonizing erasure. The Salazar family didn’t just kill, they made sure the world forgot you ever existed, leaving only blood on the ice to be buried by the morning snow.
They never found Zimr’s body.
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